Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 32

The next night I sat out in the cul-de-sac by myself. I stared holes into the fence of the house across from mine.

I texted Abi, but she didn t answer.

I started to text Rachel, but I was afraid to. If she d been fired, she d never want to speak to me again. It was well past her usual late arrival.

Shivering, I pulled my coat around me tightly.

Parker wasn t coming. I d called him-didn t want a written record of the conversation after the pictures yesterday-and told him about what had happened. He agreed it would be better if he stayed away.

Even if he didn t want to.

Did I want him to?

Memories of his kiss came unbidden. How his kiss had sent a tremor through me, how he d defended me against myself when he said, Don t talk about my beautiful friend Vivian like that.

I could easily cross the cul-de-sac and knock on his door. He would take me into his arms, and I would-

He was so handsome, so kind, and a good father to boot. But what if he was only interested in me because I was someone he couldn t have? Would I lose my appeal once I was available?

He said you were worth waiting for.

Well, Mitch had said a lot of things, too.

Heck, maybe I was only interested in Parker because it would be easier, so much easier to go from Mitch s house to his. For heaven s sake, I wouldn t have to leave my friends.

But . . . the photos Mitch s lawyer produced had shocked me in more than one way. Our bodies leaned toward each other in the picture taken after our runs, and our smiles reached all the way to our eyes. We melted into each other like two pieces of the same puzzle in the one where we were kissing.

But was that love or just lust?

I willed myself not to look at Parker s house. Myself did not listen. Fortunately, my body did stay planted in my chair instead of running for his front door.

What I would give to have someone to lean on.

You ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet.

The memory of Mom s voice reminded me that she d left me, too. I swiped at a tear.

I didn t like being alone in the cul-de-sac. I didn t like it at all.

I caught myself straining to hear Lucky s meow.

On the one hand, a quick internet search had reminded me that cats are remarkably self-sufficient. On the other, lost cats weren t as likely to be reunited with their owners. Especially if the cat in question wasn t chipped and didn t wear a collar.

Yet another place where I d fallen down on the job.

I texted Dylan, but he had to study for a test.

My sigh echoed through the cul-de-sac. Even the wind whipping through the trees behind the house sounded melancholy.

I gave it a few more minutes before packing it in for the evening. Wine Down Wednesday, I was afraid to admit, had been a bust. A shiver ran down my spine: What if we never had another Wine Down Wednesday again?

Normally, Halloween was one of my favorite holidays, but I didn t feel like decorating the house the next night. Only three trick-or-treaters showed up, and I sat all night on the front porch both looking for Lucky and ready to do bodily harm to anyone who hurt her. Come to think of it, maybe I was giving off a vibe that kept people away.

Either that, or word got around the neighborhood that I wasn t giving out full-size candy bars like last year.

Afterward, I made a video about Halloween, but my heart wasn t in it.

Unable to think of any new video topics, I created a survey for my viewers to fill out. Maybe they would have some good ideas.

Rachel still wasn t speaking to me, and Abi was answering in monosyllables, but I ran into Zeke at the mailbox. He told me they d found Barney. Unfortunately, he d been hit by a car, and the vet didn t know for sure if he was going to make it. He was home now, but Abi hadn t left his side.

I told Zeke to tell her I was praying for the dog and to call me if there was anything I could do.

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask for prayers for my cat, but I couldn t shake the feeling that no one really cared about me or my cat. I didn t even tell Parker.

I did text Suja and ask her to be on the lookout for Lucky and to take care of her if she found her. As many times as I d taken Suja to school, I didn t feel bad about asking. It didn t hurt that she loved that silly cat.

Finally, Friday rolled around. I headed to the airport by myself to go to the influencers event in Napa.

I was alone. Unchaperoned. Literally flying solo.

At least I didn t break out into a cold sweat at the thought of navigating the airport now, but I would have to rent a car and drive to the resort once I reached my destination.

Why are you doing this?

Because the YouTube channel and a part-time job at Target might end up being all I had.

And that was assuming my good friend Joe hired me after my interview next week.

Buck up, Vivian. It s a free trip to wine country.

I d always wanted to go, but Mitch had always turned his head to one side and said, Eh, I m more of a beer person.

You should ve invited Rachel.

Well, Rachel would have to be speaking to me for that, now wouldn t she? I was probably lucky Suja took my texts.

Parking at Hartsfield-Jackson was better than usual, a good omen. I treated myself to a spot in the garage, since I d eventually be reimbursed for my parking. Even better, the plane ride to Oakland was uneventful and the car rental process much smoother than I could ve hoped. Soon, I was driving in the direction of wine country, disconcerted by how much day I still had left thanks to traveling west.

It was so sunny and warm. I almost wished I d ponied up extra for a convertible.

Almost.

The wine people had paid for my subcompact, so it would have to do. Once I d made my way out of the city, the countryside opened up into swells of mountains and hills. I turned off the main road at some kind of amusement park and civilization encroached, but then that civilization faded. I was surrounded by vineyards.

Sunshine, balmy temperatures, lush scenery-this could be my idea of heaven.

At least it would be heaven if I were speaking to my mother and knew my cat was safely inside. My heart hurt. I thought about stuffing my feelings into one of my now empty emotional drawers, but I didn t have the energy or the inclination.

I sat in my feelings instead and said a prayer that God would send my cat home. I d ask for help with my mother, but the whole thing seemed beyond even God s ability.

Look at this beautiful country and that gorgeous sky, Vivian! Enjoy this. You can always be sad later.

My pep talk wasn t as effective as I might ve hoped.

The robotic voice of my GPS announced my destination as a hotel beyond Napa, not heaven.

Or so I thought, until I saw the charming hotel of stucco, tiled roof, and exposed beams. I was pretty sure I would never leave until I saw the room rate on the back of my hotel door.

Vivian, you ve earned this relaxation. Enjoy this time away.

I flopped backward on the crisp white linens of the bed and closed my eyes. This was it. I would somehow convince Busy Mom Cosmetics to take me on as a sponsor. Lucky would come home while I was gone. Mom would accept my apology. I would make things right with Abi and Rachel. It would all be okay.

I sat up before I fell asleep. It was five in the evening here, but my body thought it was eight. I was starving, but I still needed to register in the courtyard outside, where there would also be the first of many wine tastings and a meet-and-greet of sorts before we walked to supper.

I chose a new outfit with care, wearing my new Louboutins since the walk to our restaurant was about a tenth of a mile, no more than a minute according to Google Maps. My red sweater might be a bit warm now, but it was supposed to cool down significantly. As for makeup, I applied my new stash from Busy Mom Cosmetics. I d need to rep them even if their damn mascara smeared worse than axle grease.

Now, Vivian, Busy Mom has been good to you.

True. I took a couple of deep breaths.

I paused at the door.

I was about to head outside and sell myself.

Back in New York, it had been easy to pretend that I d simply won a contest, that I didn t really have to impress anyone. This time, I didn t have Abi and Rachel to bolster my confidence. In fact, Busy Mom Cosmetics would be watching me. How I did here might affect whether they offered the sponsorship Deborah had dangled in front of me.

No one knows you here. It s like a blank slate.

For once in my life, this was good news. I would be who I wanted to be. I would make friends. I would make the most of this opportunity.

I left my second-story hotel room, and a glance at the courtyard below told me I was overdressed. I hesitated, but in the end went ahead. I didn t have that many outfits, and it was better to overdress than underdress. In one corner of the small courtyard, a lady stood behind a table covered in a white tablecloth. She had bottles of wine in front of her-one red and one white. Behind me at a wrought iron bar table sat a woman with name tags and folders. I approached her first.

Hi, I m Vivian Quackenbush. I had a hard time getting the word out, but everything was still under Mitch s name, so using my maiden name would have to wait.

Vivian, she said warmly, the easy-breezy California version of New York s Deborah. I m Donna, and we are so glad you are here to learn more about Vine Friends. Welcome! Here s your name tag and a folder with a schedule of events. We re just going to hang out here and have a little wine before formal introductions and dinner.

Thank you, I said, not sure what to do with the folder. Should I take it back upstairs? It wouldn t fit in my wristlet of a handbag.

Three women sat in front of the courtyard s outdoor fireplace, their folders beside them as they chatted and drank their wine. I got a chardonnay from the lady in the corner and steeled myself to talk to them.

I stood on the periphery of their conversation, waiting for a good time to jump in. The whole thing reminded me of junior high and trying to find a table where I could eat lunch on the first day of school. Based on their conversation, they knew each other well and had been to many events like this one before.

One had a brown ponytail, another a riot of blond curls, and the third wore her dark hair clipped short. I began to think of them as Larry, Curly, and Moe.

After what seemed an eternity, Moe looked up at me. Is there something you want?

I blinked twice. Hardly the warm welcome I had hoped for. I was just going to introduce myself. I m Vivian.

Molly, Insta handle Wine Frau.

The blonde extended her hand. I m Gina, Insta handle Grape Mama.

I shook her hand and turned to the brunette.

And I m Laurel, Insta handle SuperWinoMom.

I d never remember all that, so Larry, Curly, and Moe they would continue to be.

And you? asked Larry. What s your handle?

I almost snorted my wine. I d grown up watching Smokey and the Bandit . To me, a handle was for a truck driver, but here we were. I m MomScout.

Oh, they all said at once, recognition dawning in their eyes.

I ve heard of you, Curly said. You re mainly on YouTube, right?

I nodded.

I know people must ask this all the time, but could we hear your line about the chicken salad? Curly asked with a furrow to her brow that suggested she was being earnest.

I rattled off my line about my ah-mazing chicken salad. She and Larry giggled.

Sorry about your divorce, Moe said in a tone that could have been malicious. I wasn t sure.

If it weren t for my divorce, then I wouldn t be here. I shrugged to cover up the beating of my heart.

Good on you! Curly said, extending her wineglass for me to clink.

And then the three of them went back to their conversation in a way that told me it was time for me to move on. Another pair of ladies had come in together, speaking Spanish. I wanted to say hello, but I didn t speak Spanish. I really should ve paid more attention in my high school class. I turned to Donna, but she was deep in conversation with a lady who reminded me a lot of Abi.

I felt a pang of sadness.

I hoped Barney was doing better.

Only the lady serving wines was standing alone, so I walked back to her table, finishing the small amount of chardonnay so I d have an excuse to try the other wine she had. May I try the red?

She smiled but didn t quite meet my gaze. Of course!

Could you tell me more about this one?

Her eyes met mine, and I realized she hadn t been meeting my gaze because the other women had made a point of not speaking to her, of pretending she wasn t there.

Oh, this is an Anderson Valley pinot noir. It pairs nicely with lamb, maybe a chicken curry.

It was like listening to Rachel, so soothing. I missed Rachel even more than I missed her wines.

Awesome. This is my first wine tasting of the trip. Tell me more about your company.

Some of the wariness left her eyes, but she had to pause to pour for the two Spanish speakers. They deliberated a good minute before going with the pinot noir and then ambled off to the other side of the fireplace. I turned back to my own personal sommelier.

I own Lit Wines. We re a fairly new winery with an almost all-female staff. Our wines are named after famous women writers.

First of all, I love that idea, I said. Second, you don t look a day over twenty-four, so I m feeling both old and like an underachiever.

She blushed a little. You re kind, but I m almost forty. I m Marisol, by the way.

Vivian.

We shook hands, and I paused, not sure what to say next. Finally, I decided to focus on the wines. What s the story behind this one?

It s a chardonnay. We call it the Dorothy after Dorothy Parker because it has a clean acidity.

I had to chuckle at that, even though I really only remembered the poem Dorothy Parker wrote about guys not making passes at girls who wore glasses.

And the pinot noir is named after Shirley Jackson because it s dark and layered, she said with a waggle of her eyebrows and a grin.

Oh! They made a movie out of one of her books, didn t they?

More than one, Marisol said. I like The Haunting of Hill House best, though.

Wines all named after women? It made me want to pick up a book and have a glass of wine. If I have time, I d love to tour your winery.

The smile left her face. Oh, we re not set up for tours yet.

That s cool, I said. Would you mind doing a brief video interview, then? I really like your wines and what you have going.

Sure, she said, raking a hand through her hair. Despite her quick agreement, I sensed she was hesitant about being put on the spot.

I d just pulled out my phone when Donna clinked a fork against her wineglass. Apparently it was time for the formal introductions. I turned around to pay attention. Larry, Curly, and Moe were still gathered together, as were Luisa and Lorena, the two Spanish speakers. The lady who d reminded me of Abi was named Venzia, but she d had a prior engagement and would be back tomorrow.

When it was my turn to speak, I tried to use my outdoor voice. I m Vivian Quackenbush of the Mom Scouts YouTube channel. The minute I said Mom Scouts, Luisa and Lorena murmured to each other in a way that reminded me of the Three Stooges earlier.

And that was that.

When I turned around, the owner of Lit Wines had left. How odd that she was the owner, the person who made the magic happen, yet she had been standing behind that table as if invisible. Even worse, the other women had treated her as if she were. They didn t care who stood behind that table, just as long as the bottle tipped enough to fill their glasses.

A group of women making excellent wines named after women? That was the energy we needed.

I kicked myself for not getting her contact information because she was, by far, the most interesting person I d met that day.

My new acquaintances and I walked down the street a little way to a restaurant, where we had more wine and each picked a dish from a prix fixe menu. I tried to join in the conversation, but I was tucked inside a booth. It felt as though everyone was actively leaning away from me. I did a discreet smell check of my armpits just to make sure I didn t reek of travel funk.

To make matters worse, the time change was catching up with me, and I almost collapsed nose-first into my chicken Alfredo. Mercifully, everyone decided to skip dessert. I didn t even have the energy to be mad at all the oh, I just couldn t eat another bite from women who looked sharply around to make sure they were winning the let s-see-who-can-eat-the-least contest. I ate my meal with reckless abandon, not caring what they thought-especially since they weren t paying attention to me in the first place.

The earlier wine on an empty stomach combined with the wine we d had at supper had given the world a hazy glow. I followed the group back to our hotel, reveling in the now chilly air.

Only then did I realize I d left my folder in the courtyard.

I didn t want to admit this to Donna unless I absolutely had to, so I entered the lobby to see if maybe, just maybe, someone had put the folder into a lost and found.

An orange folder? the lady behind the desk asked.

Yes!

She produced the folder in question, and sure enough, there was my name printed at the top.

Bless you! I said.

I was halfway to the door when another thought occurred to me. Do you have the information for the Lit Wines lady who was here?

Of course. She gestured to a small table at my elbow. A business-card holder held many different winery cards, but I quickly found Lit Wines and grabbed it.

I have a bottle of the Shirley, if you d like to charge it to your room?

Should I? No. Would I?

Yes, yes, I would, I said.

She disappeared into a small closet-a magical closet it would seem-and returned with a bottle of the wine in question.

You, I said, aware that I was half-tipsy and overly tired, are my new favorite person.

She grinned, used to tipsy guests, no doubt.

I had every intention of pouring one last glass of wine and making a video about my day when I reached my room, but instead, I brushed my teeth and fell into a deep, blissful sleep.