“I’ve been fine, sweetie,” I say. I shouldn’t, but my eyes keep drifting over her body. She was as pretty as a doll when she was little, with her blond hair and blue eyes, but now, she is certainly no doll. Her feminine curves have fully developed, and I can’t help swallowing. Damn. This is wrong. Ivy is Richard’s little girl. I used to give her piggyback rides.
Ivy seems to struggle with her breathing just like me. Her chest heaves up and down. “Are you all right? Dad told me that you were…err, I’m so sorry.”
She’s talking about my divorce. Shit. It feels awkward to discuss such a grownup matter with her, even though she is no longer a little girl.
“Yeah, thanks for asking. I got over it. It was hard in the beginning, but I’m fine now.”
“I’m glad!” she says, smiling and looking genuinely happy for me.
My inappropriate feelings rise again. I’m drawn to the young woman.
She leads me to my preferred table, which is close to the kitchen and where Richard goes in and out a lot.
“So, what would you like to order?” she asks after I sit down. “Dad’s in the back, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”
What I would like to feast on at the moment is her, which is why my eyes are glued on her glossy lips. But I get a grip of myself and reply calmly, “I’d like my usual. Which is…”
“Grilled salmon and beet salad?”
My mouth falls. I haven’t seen her for years, and yet she remembers what I like. “Yes, sweetheart,” I say. “Thank you for remembering.”
“I can’t believe it,” she says, laughing and shaking her head. “Why do you have to order the same thing? We have other nice items on the menu. The grilled octopus is delicious.”
I pause, wondering whether she’ll understand it if I tell her once you get older, your palate refuses to try new things. I decide she’s too young to get that, so I say instead, “How do you know I’ve been ordering it for years? You’re hardly around.”
Her eyes widen for a moment as she blushes. “I…err, don’t know. I’m just guessing.”
I’m puzzled. Why is she blushing?
“Okay,” I chuckle. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll try the grilled octopus.”
“Sure!” She grins. “And the drink? Cabernet Sauvignon?”
Damn. It’s what I’m about to say but I change my mind, driven by an urge to prove to her that I’m not an old man with a lazy palate. “No,” I say, my eyes rummaging over the drink menu. “I would like some beer today. A glass of Red Trolley.”
She lifts an eyebrow, impressed by my boldness. “Good choice! The best draft beer we have,” she says with a lovely smile.
It’s now my turn to blush. Shit. I haven’t blushed for years.
Richard comes to me with the drink I ordered.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks as he sits down across the table to me and watches me taking a sip from the glass. “You never cared for beer! Not since college.”
I laugh after gulping down the cold beverage and sighs with content. “It’s about time for a change.”
I’m not going to tell him his daughter has something to do with it. I glance around quickly, searching for Ivy. She’s standing inside the bar counter, speaking to Kayla. Her eyes meet mine, and she quickly averts them.
Is she speaking of me? My heart becomes erratic at the possibility.
Richard notices my inattentiveness. “What’re you looking at?”
I feel like a thief caught stealing. My cheeks are probably red but thank God I’m drinking.
“Ivy,” I say frankly. “I can’t believe she’s old enough to serve the bar already. It seems only yesterday she was wearing her little pigtails.”
“Yep. Time surely flies.” Richard says as he turns to glance at his daughter. His expression becomes pensive for a moment, probably recalling his wife Olivia and the good old days. “So, what’s new with you?”
I gulp down some beer to battle the emotions rising in my chest. “I’m going to Napa next week.”
Even though it’s just an hour’s drive, I haven’t been to the vineyard for almost a year. Letting my manager Jose and his wife take care of the operations, I focus on the marketing and distribution in the city.
Richard misunderstands the meaning of my words and smiles. “Good. It’s time you get back on your feet. You’ve got to finish what you started ten years ago.”
“Nope, Richard,” I say with a sigh. “I’m going to sell the vineyard. I have a French investor coming down to see it.”
Richard’s mouth opens. “Are you sure? You’ve spent so many years on that. It was your…”
“My life, I know. But I’ve decided it’s about time to end that dream.”
He falls silent. “What are you going to do after you sell it?”
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly. “I have some options, though. I could become a wine distributor, or I could purchase a winery in the city since I know a lot about grapes and wines. I could also start an investment company and return to my old trade, and forget about the wine business altogether.”
He frowns. “It’s your decision, but Gavin, I hope you’re not doing it because of Diana. The vineyard means so much to you. You enjoyed living there, didn’t you?”
I pause. It’s useless to lie to him. No one knows me better than Richard. We’ve been friends since college. “You’re right. It has something to do with Diana. Whenever I’m there, I keep thinking about her and get angry all over. I can’t get over her completely without getting rid of the vineyard.”
Richard exhales deeply and nods. “I see. If you think that’s the right thing to do, then I have nothing to say. I’d like nothing more than having you around in the city, although I would miss vacations at Napa.”
I chuckle. “You always say that. But just how many times have you accepted my invitations in the past? Twice?”
“I know! I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t walk away from my restaurant.”
“You should take a break, Rich,” I say but I don’t insist. After Olivia passed away, he devotes his time to the restaurant to cope with the loss. It’s why he never goes on vacation anymore.
“French investors, you said?” Richard asks curiously. “Don’t they have plenty of vineyards in their own country?”
“Well yeah, apparently, they got bought up by the Chinese. Besides, Napa vineyards are valuable nowadays.”
“Interesting,” Richard says. “You still remember French? You took it in high school.”
“Not really,” I say, chuckling. “I’m going to hire a French translator, although the visitors might speak English.”
As we’re speaking, Ivy brings me my dinner: a plate of sizzling octopus on top of tomatoes and onions. My mouth waters. “Smells good!” I say.
Ivy giggles. “It tastes good, too. I guarantee you’ll like it!”
She leaves promptly with a smile that messes up my heartbeat.
The octopus is indeed delicious as Ivy suggests. I’m glad I took her advice to try it. “How’s Ivy doing?” I ask Richard. “Is she getting a job or something?”