Christmas in Wine Country Read Free

scrutinizing the courtyard, biting her nails and envisioning all manner of hideous accidents.
    Across the way a tall man in a bulky fisherman knit sweater strolled toward the main building of the estate. Head down, hands in the pockets of his corduroys, he moved slowly, lost in thought. He looked perfectly steady on the stones. Then again, he had on work boots. 
                  A waiter darted up. “Are we going with the 10-foot ovals or the eight-foot? Because last time—”
    “One sec.” The event manager directed traffic, raising her left index finger to ask the staff to wait while raising her right hand to wave over the man in the sweater. Calling out “Jake!” she signaled, “Over here.” He looked up, slowly and not particularly thrilled about the interruption. “A question.” Pointing at Lila she then hustled with the waiter back into the room. 
    As Jake ambled over Lila fought the impatient urge to run toward him. He must be the groundskeeper. He had a kind-of a slow and steady way about him and looked to be about Lila’s age or a bit older, perhaps in his early 30s.
                  “You have a question?” he asked as he reached her. 
                  “Yes,” she began. “It’s the cobblestone.” He stood with his arms crossed against his chest. “It’s dangerous.” He kept looking at her, but now with a slight tilt to his head. Suffused with the enormity of the impending calamity, Lila continued in a rush, “In about half an hour we’re going to have 250 people—maybe even more if they didn’t RSVP and that’s so likely because we sent out invitations with the reply card in the mail but who even reads their mail anymore—”
    “I read my mail.” 
    “OK, but what I’m trying to say is there’s going to be hundreds of people showing up for this party and how are they even going to get inside without breaking their necks?” Though she detested the shrill note her voice reached and the inexplicable flail her hand made, anxiety triumphed over embarrassment. “It’s a disaster!” 
    Jake looked from Lila to the courtyard and back again. Not so much alarmed as puzzled with a hint of annoyance. 
                  “Well?” Lila nearly shrieked. “What are you going to do about it?”
                  Raking a hand through his dark, unruly hair Jake exhaled, “Do about it?”
                  “How are you going make sure everyone’s safe? Because, I don’t see safe here.” Lila gestured around her wildly. “I see broken wrists. I see trips to the ER.”    
                  “You want me to do something about the cobblestone?” he asked, seeming to just register her request. “This cobblestone cemented into the ground?”
                  “Yes, whatever.” Lila dismissed the irrelevant details. “This dangerous, uneven surface.”
                  “This is a replica of a fountain in Tuscany.” Drawing up to his full height, Jake made the statement as if it explained everything.
                  “I don’t care what it’s replicating!” Lila’s panic rose in direct proportion to the degree to which it was ignored. “People will fall on the way from the parking lot!”
                  “What, exactly, do you propose we do about it?”
                  “I don’t know! That’s your job!” Her hands flew up once again in exasperation. “Put some bubble wrap down over it!” Immediately hearing a popping soundtrack accompanying the imaginary scene of chaos, Lila revised, “No, throw a tarp over it! Yes, that’s it! A nice tarp.” She looked out over the courtyard, wondering what exactly a nice tarp would look like. Black? Could they find one with some shimmer?
                  “You want me to put a tarp down over the cobblestone?” he repeated, incredulous. “Or, I’ve got it!” He snapped his fingers