Page 26 of Playing Dirty
"If only." Celeste chuckles. "There areliterallypoisoned cups."
Isabelle's eyes go wide. "You're joking. Like, actual murderers? Okay, I take it back, compared to that my family are practically saints."
“Yep.” Celeste nods. “One of my cousins actually tried to poison a relative for inheritance. He's in prison now, but when it happened, my uncle's side tried to pin the whole thing on the maid who'd served the wine. She was innocent, so I stepped in and got her a lawyer. They turned onmefor that, and that's when my own parents lost it. In retaliation, my parents hired someone to burn down my uncle's main storehouse."
She shrugs like it's nothing more than a squabble over Tuesday dinner, while Isabelle and I both gape at her.
"Wait,theVignon vineyard fire?" I hiss as Isabelle's gaze darts between the two of us. "I remember reading about that in the news. Everyone said it was an electrical issue."
"Nope. That's the cover up,” Celeste says. “But if you dig into the police reports from that summer, the truth's all there in the fine print."
"Wow. That could be its own limited series on HBO." I shake my head. "I don't envy that level of drama. Though I'd be a liar if I said I didn't still desperately want to get a look inside those legendary cellars of yours."
"Tell you what," she laughs, "if we ever make it over to Francetogether, I'll endure the mandatory family torture for your sake and give you a proper tour."
"Oh my god, I would probably actually loseconsciousness." I feel giddy at the suggestion. "The vintage history alone..."
"It would be a blast to go as a group," Celeste says. "I spent my childhood in the industry and I still adore it. Though you definitely have a deeper fever for it than I do."
"Oh, don't get me started." I laugh. "There's just such an artistry to wine. The pairings, the stories, the way one good bottle can hold a whole season. It's thebest."
"Margot is actually the mastermind behind our monthly wine selections." Isabelle smiles and pats my forearm.
I return the smile. Isabelle is as devoted to the kitchen as I am to the cellar, and she's always been the kind of friend who recognizes that same fire in me. There's something wonderful about a best friend who sees you that clearly.
"Wait." Isabelle glances toward the entrance. "I thought Sabrina was joining the party too?"
I sigh. "She is, eventually. Marco is dropping her off and then she's hitching a ride home with me. But they operate on a version of time that doesn't involve clocks."
Isabelle nods. "Great. Well, we're doing a full tasting menu today. Alex is prepared to wait on us hand and foot, so order whatever your heart desires. Although I am officially drafting you all as guinea pigs for my latest special."
My mouth waters as the savory smell drifts out from the kitchen. Everything Isabelle and Alex make is the best thing I've ever eaten, until the next time I come back.
"That sounds like exactly what my soul requires." I lean forward. "Also, you are not going tobelievethe day I've had."
I fill them in on the auction date situation, watching them both gape in a mix of horror and amusement as I recount the nightmare.
Isabelle considers me over the rim of her glass. "You know,the more I hear about your job, the more unhinged it sounds. Sommelier and client relations really ought to come with about thirty separate subcategories for everything you actually do."
I snort into my wine. "Usually I love it, and the pay is good. Butthis?"
"Maybe it won't be the disaster you're picturing." Celeste gives me a sympathetic look. "You said you two had been getting along better after the rocky start. Right?"
“Yes.” I rub my temple. "He's not actually a monster. We've survived several weeks of marketing obligations and everything has been perfectly fine."
"So what's the problem?" Isabelle asks, taking a sip of her wine.
"I can't put my finger on it." I fiddle with the stem of my glass, avoiding her gaze. "It's like I convince myself we've finally found a professional rhythm, and then... I don't know. He finds a way to get right under my skin."
Isabelle laughs. "Hmm. And whatkindof getting under your skin is that, exactly?"
"Notthatkind." I lift a hand, waving off the implication.
"If it isn't my favorite group of women!"
We look up as Sabrina sweeps toward the table in an explosion of color from head to toe, blue eyeshadow and all, her arms wide in a dramatic greeting.
"Celeste, hi, looking as radiant as ever. Isabelle, the aroma in here is making me weak. I'm starving." She presses a quick kiss against my cheek before settling into her chair. "Now, I want the full debrief on whatever I just missed."
