Page 48 of Sherry and Sunflowers
She didn't flinch. She opened the portfolio gently and slid a single sheet across the table toward his dad. "This is only the concept. We can change anything you don't like. But my whole aim wasn't to change anything. Only to blow the dust off what was already there. It's the same vintage, the same name. But now the truth of it shines through." She touched the edge of the paper, almost shy. "I gilded this one by hand. The real bottles—we'd do it properly, but I wanted you to see it the way I saw it. Warm. Made by someone who cares, not stamped out by a machine."
Reaves looked down. This first one was the label. The House of St. James stood proudly at the center, beneath a delicate vine motif, the lettering serif and elegant, not a trace of trend in it. But it was the gold that caught him. She'd laid it by hand—he could see that now—the leaf not quite machine-perfect, catching the light where her fingers had pressed it, so that the whole thing seemed to breathe. And in small script beneath the crest:Rooted in Stillness.
His dad stared for a long few moments. Reaves could tell that he was blown away. But Alara looked worried.
"That 'rooted in stillness' thing—I can take it away if you want. We can choose something different. But to me, that's the whole point. The vines are rooted. The stillness is the timelessness. Everything's flowed on, around. Life has carried on. Gotten busier. People have gotten more distracted. Attention spans have gotten shorter. But this place. The wines." She met his dad's gaze and smiled. "You. You're all… still. Timeless. And people are starting to seek that out again. Starting to understand. The value. The worth." She rested her hands on the edge of the table and stood up straight. "But I'll stop talking. What do you think?"
His dad swallowed visibly. "This is it. Alara, thank you. This is … perfect." His voice cracked on that last word. "It honors the wine," he said after a moment.
Alara reached out to touch his arm. "It honorsyou, Charles. That's the whole point."
Reaves was blinking furiously, trying to swallow the emotion, when a sudden flutter of movement distracted him. Zia had climbed up onto the chair beside his dad, and Reaves's heart squeezed in his chest when he noticed the glitter sparkling in her hair as she held up her little bag.
"I made something for you too, Grandpa Grape. It's for your desk. It'll help if you get sad sometimes. That's what it's for. But even when you're not sad, I hope you'll like it." She thrust the bag at him.
Charles took it, still looking a little overwhelmed.
"Go on, open it. I think you'll like it."
Reaves exchanged a smile with Alara as they watched his dad fish inside the bag and then hold up a little square that Reaves knew had once been no more than a humble coaster. His dad stared at the mess of sequins, glue, and what had to be at least seven googly eyes stuck to it.
Reaves held his breath. Zia leaned forward eagerly. And they let out a collective breath when his dad chuckled—a dry, cracking sound, like old wood in the fireplace. Charles held up the coaster carefully, as if it were a crystal decanter.
"This is perfect too, young lady. Thank you so much." He glanced around at them. "I do get sad sometimes. But since thetwo of you have been here, those days are getting fewer and farther between."
Zia held her arms up to him, and Charles bent so that she could hug him while she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Grandpa Grape."
Reaves inhaled sharply. And Alara froze.
His dad kissed the top of Zia's head and said, "I love you too, sunflower." When he straightened up, Reaves saw his eyes were wet. "I'm glad to be the first grown-up who gets to say the word that—thanks to you—is starting to fill this house again."
Chapter Twelve
"Good night, Z." Alara ran her hand over her daughter's dark, unruly curls where she rested her head on the pillow.
"Good night, Mom. Today was a good day, wasn't it? Grandpa Grape isn't sad anymore. And that's because you made the pictures that will sell his wines, and he loves them. Did you see his face?"
"Yeah, sweet pea, I did. He loved your coaster too."
"I know." Zia said it matter-of-factly. "He likes shiny things. He'd just forgotten that he does."
Alara thought that summed him up perfectly. "You're right. But for now, you need to get to sleep. And so do I."
"Are we working in your office again tomorrow?"
"I think so. Delaney might come by again." She really wanted to show Delaney the designs in person. The gold leaf she'd bought at the craft store was far from the real thing, but she believed Delaney would understand when she saw it—just like Charles had.
Zia made a face, and Alara had to ask. "What did you think of Delaney?"
Zia shrugged her shoulders all the way up to her ears and held them there a beat before letting them fall again. "She's not a maker," she said eventually.
Alara nodded, knowing it was the truest, kindest thing Zia could bring herself to say. "I know. She's a little different than we're used to. But she's a good person."
Zia's lip curled, and Alara decided to leave it there. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of her in the next few days. You might want to give her a chance."
"Okay. But only because you want me to."
"Thanks, Z. You know how it works. Sometimes you see the goodness before I do. And sometimes I see it before you do."
