One Friday in Napa by Jennifer Hamm

Author:Jennifer Hamm
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press

Something happens to a body when it is free of stress and anxiety, Olivia thought, a profound openness and a sense of energy abounds. She’d spent so long feeling ashamed, struggling with her body’s unwillingness to conceive, that she hadn’t realized how closed off she’d become—until now. Just being in the same room as Victor gave her a sense of energy and peace. Instead of feeling nothing, she felt everything, and it was intoxicating. She felt like a woman again and it empowered her. For the first time in a long time, she believed she could do anything, be anything.

She cooked and gardened and discovered she had a talent for all aspects of the estate. Victor taught her about growing grapes: how to distinguish between the tastes and textures of each variety, how to choose which she preferred and why. In turn, her cooking was an expression of everything she felt for him. Jonathan was a million miles away. It seemed as though he never wanted to return, which was suiting her more and more.

She sat in the kitchen making notes in her cookbook. She had tried and failed to make Victor’s mother’s favorite recipe, traditional meatballs in tomato sauce, the way he liked them. It had become a joke between them. She checked her notes in the margins and realized the secret might lie in not manhandling the meat—over-manipulating the meatballs made them lose their fluffiness while cooking. And of course, there was the tomato sauce, the simplest of all things Italian but the most important. Give women the same ingredients all over the world, and an Italian mother’s tomato sauce was still like no other.

Making these balls for the third time this week. Shaped them without suffocating them so they cook yet remain weightless—weeping juices when you cut through them. My pinch of magic this time was buttermilk used with the breadcrumbs. Will he notice? I picture them melting in his mouth . . . As for my heart . . .

She knew she was being hopelessly sentimental, but she didn’t care. She began sketching in the top corner of the page, a chalice with a vine growing through it. Max entered the kitchen.

“Max, what do you think of this?” she asked, showing him her drawing. “Part of the label for our wine maybe?”

“It could be on the back perhaps,” he replied, and began cleaning up the appalling mess she’d left.

“Why the back?” she demanded.

“The family name should be on the front, and I expect Mr. Winston would want it to look very simple.”

“Yes, quite . . .” she replied, turning her attention back to her meatballs and combining all of the ingredients. She was missing eggs. She went to the pantry to forage for some when Victor suddenly slipped in behind her and shut the door. He spun her around and, before she could react, kissed her passionately, holding her tightly in his arms and ending their embrace with a dip.

“Heavens!” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

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