Page 84 of Playing Dirty
"How about this one?" She smiles brightly, gesturing toward a sturdy-looking snake plant. "You can definitely manage this variety. Plus, it would suit your aesthetic."
I give a reluctant nod. "Alright, I suppose Idolike the look."
"Excellent. I'll keep the fiddle-leaf fig in reserve so I know it's on your wishlist, and I'm sure you'll be ready for it before you know it. But I can’t send the poor thing off to be murdered."
I snort. "You're absolutely drunk on power, Dot."
She cocks her head and winks at me. "Well, a woman has to have a hobby."
I laugh and start navigating toward the register with my consolation prize.
She studies me as she rings it up. "You know, I saw that handsome hockey fellow on social media, the one promoting your new label."
My pulse does a nervous little skip at the mere mention of Cillian. He's up in Seattle with the team, two back-to-back games in the next round of the playoffs, and there was no version of my work schedule that let me go with him.
So, now that I’m off work for the day, I’m plant shopping with Isabelle and Sabrina to distract myself. But he’s due back tomorrow, and we’re meeting in San Francisco once he lands.
"Oh?" I ask, trying for a neutral tone. "Did you enjoy the content?"
"I loved it, honey! I actually went out and bought a bottle."
"You did?" I smile. "I was under the impression you were strictly a cocktail woman. Banana daiquiris, wasn't it?"
“Sharp memory on you, sweetie.” She winks as she takes mycredit card. "And yes, but goodness, he wassopersuasive on that ad. I thought that sparkling one sounded summery and nice. So I told myself, why not give it a whirl?Celebrate every day, right?"
"Yes! That’s actually myfavoriteone in the line too," I say with a surge of excitement.
Cillian’s role as ambassador has been shockingly successful, with sales outpacing our wildest projections. Watching my passion project thrive is a dream, and since I have a small stake in this specific label, my income has seen a significant boost as well.
But mostly, it means people like Dot are connecting with the love of wine, and as someone who is passionate about the craft, it makes me so happy I could burst.
"Well, I can see why it's your favorite,” she says. “It was divine. The ladies even asked me to bring a few bottles to our next horror book club meeting!"
I smile. Fright Club is Solstice Ridge's horror book club, a dozen or so women strong, with Dot presiding, our winemaker Diane in the mix, and Miriam serving as its longest-standing member. The name was Miriam's idea, and the first rule of Fright Club is that they talk about Fright Club to absolutely everyone.
The club gathers for lemon squares and coffee in Dot's back garden to dissect the latest horror while Diane's beagle, Alfie, works the circle for crumbs. I've attended a few, but as a dedicated scaredy-cat, I've sat out the last two books, which Dot cheerfully described as "deliciouslygruesome."
“Well next time I stop by I’ll bring a few bottles for the club.” I give her a grateful look. "And Dot, you’ve made my day."
She smiles. "Even without the fiddle-leaf fig?"
"Even then," I say, and I practically skip out the door into the golden afternoon sunshine.
I make my way down the main street, the heart of downtown Solstice Ridge where the river winds through town, andthe boutiques all look like something out of a postcard. The air is a touch cooler here than the oppressive heat currently baking the rest of the valley, which is a mercy.
Sabrina and Isabelle are just coming out of the vintage shop as I walk up. After a full round of browsing and deciding on absolutely nothing, I'd popped over to the plant shop while they wrapped up.
"Oohh, that looks great." Isabelle nods at the snake plant tucked in the crook of my arm, and Sabrina reaches over to stroke one of the spikey leaves like it's a pet.
I smile down at it, already proud. "Thanks, we're very happy together. And what's your haul?"
Isabelle raises up a delicate vintage cake stand, milk glass with a scalloped edge. "For the wedding. Won't it be cute on the dessert table?"
"It's perfect!" I say as we fall into step along the sidewalk. "No concrete date yet, then?"
She shakes her head with a sigh. "It's so hard when it's our first year running the restaurant ourselves. We're still just slowly piecing the details together. At this rate, you might actually get married before us."
She nudges my shoulder, her eyes dancing with mischief, and I let out a soft laugh while Sabrina giggles beside us.
