“A mixed bag,” I said.
“Indeed.” She started chopping a cucumber. “I saw that we have two more joining tonight?”
I looked at her. “You met Maddie?”
She nodded. “Where do you think the cake came from?” she said.
I started washing a tomato, ignoring her gaze.
“What happened?” she said.
“He thinks we need to be together in the same place to get through this.”
“No. I understand what he’s doing here, but what happened, that you’re letting him stay? At least for the family dinner? And don’t tell me that he loves it. Though he does love it. Maybe more than your father.”
I shrugged. “I’m so mad at him and then I think I shouldn’t be. Which makes me mad in a new way, if that makes sense?”
“Not really . . .”
“It feels like he’s still withholding part of the story. That I’m going to have to pull it out of him. It feels really hard to talk to him.”
She looked at me, waiting. “Did you consider that if you keep trying to talk to him, it will get easier again?”
“I don’t think I should have to work that hard.”
She laughed, tossing her cucumber into a bowl. “That is love, baby girl. Working hard when we don’t feel like it.”
I put the vegetables down. “Is that what you’re doing, Mom?”
She looked up at me. It seemed like she was going to argue but then she wiped her hand across her head, water smearing on her cheek. “I guess that’s fair. I guess I’m not working so hard right now, but it didn’t happen because of one misunderstanding.”
“That’s what you think this is?”
“Ben was put in a bad situation. He got a call finding out that he has a kid. He had to try to handle that however he could.” She shrugged. “No one is saying he’s handled it well, though.”
I felt like she was finally listening, understanding the two ways I felt. On the one hand, I felt terrible for Ben that he’d been dealing with this, but I also was angry he hadn’t trusted I would deal with it with him.
“Of course, it doesn’t matter how well he handled it,” she said. “What is going to save you two is how well you do.”
Her phone buzzed and she looked down. It was Henry, Henry smiling. It made her blush, looking like a schoolgirl, which made me roll my eyes.
I peeked over at the phone, at the text message.
La Gare. 10 PM?
La Gare. That was the French restaurant in town. The only restaurant in Sonoma County that served that late. The only restaurant in Sonoma County my mother could get to after family dinner. The last family dinner, celebrating the last harvest.
My mother met my eyes, knowing what I’d seen on the phone. But as she started to say something, she closed her mouth. “I’ll call him back later, but not because you’re being mature about it,” she said.
“What would you like me to say, Mom? Have fun on your date?”
“Would that be so hard?” She paused, shutting off the water. “Or maybe just don’t look at me with such anger. I’m not looking at you with anger.”
“Why would you look at me with anger?”
My mother looked at me. “I’m just going to ask you this once but I want you to think about it. Have you considered that your desire for us to keep the vineyard has less to do with us and more to do with you?”
She motioned toward the vineyard. I followed her eyes, and looked out the window at the vineyard below: foggy and swirling in the late afternoon wind.
The grapes were getting heat, but getting something else too in that wind, getting a certain amount of peace.
“Well?” she said.
“No,” I said.
My mother looked at me, anger in her eyes. “No, you haven’t considered it? Or no, it isn’t true?”
“Have you considered why you’re willing to give this place away?”
“I have considered it. And I have my answer, darling. It’s just not one you like.”
I heard a beep, Henry texting again. “He should really play harder to get,” I said.
My mother pursed her lips. “Go away,” she said.
“Does he know you hate French food?”
“Go away, please.”
I wanted to explain it to her so she’d hear it. As much as my mother said I was making this about me, it seemed like she was doing the opposite. She wasn’t making this enough about her.
“It just feels tragic to me that everything you and Dad worked for, you’re just handing off to someone who is going to blow it. Who’s not going to honor your legacy.”
“Even if you’re right, and I’m not saying you are, that’s our tragedy.”
“That can’t be your opinion.”
She took off her kitchen gloves. “You want my opinion? I’ll give you my opinion. Worry less.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you’re a smart, accomplished woman who has worked very hard to build a great life for herself. And you still think your main job is to make things okay for everyone else. For your father and me, for Bobby and Finn. It’s why I felt relief the day you moved away from here!”
“You cried. And sent me a map of Sebastopol, so I’d remember where I came from.”
She rolled her eyes. “The point is, I thought, now she is going to take care of herself too. But you’re just falling back into your old ways. Focusing on our problems instead of your own.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Are you sure about that?” she said, her eyes angry. “If you ask me, Sweetie, then you’re going to have to get over that Ben did something wrong and listen to your heart.”
“It’s related, Mom. It matters.”
“My goodness. You sound like you’re arguing a case. What matters is what you want to do.”
Then she pointed at the tent, the sailcloth tent, on the edge of the patio.
“We never would have paid for a sailcloth tent just for the harvest party. We could have run around on the lawn for all I care. Someone needs to get married under that sailcloth tent, it is too beautiful to waste.”
“You think that’s a good reason?”
She turned the water back on, looking away. “Well. It’s not a bad one,” she said.
Spontaneous Fermentation (and Other Ways to Lose the Love of Your Life) When we were kids, Bobby and Finn used to ride their bikes down to the candy store in the center of Sebastopol. I loved the ride—and my mother wouldn’t let me take it alone. But, man, was it fun when Finn and Bobby let me join them: the easy climb down the hills into the center of town, the hard ride back, candy melting in our pockets speeding us along. One time, on the ride back toward home, a car pushed us off the road. It was going so fast around the final turn, giving us no choice but to ride ourselves into a ditch to avoid getting hit head-on.