The Truth is in the Wine Read Online Free Page B

Napa Valley,” Paul said.
    â€œNapa? You want to drive across country?”
    â€œNo,” he said. “Let’s fly.”
    â€œYou wanna fly?” Ginger said. “Now I’m sure something’s up. You’re the same man who two days ago would not fly to see your daughter off at college. Now, you wanna fly to California with me to the wine country? Nah, something’s going on. What’s going on?”
    â€œI regret not flying with you and Helena to D.C.,” Paul said. “I do. I don’t like flying, but I should have made the trip anyway for my daughter. I regret that. But I will fly up there and fly back with her when she comes home for the first time. I have to do that for her.
    â€œBut in the meantime, I think we should go to Napa and enjoy the wine and see if we can’t bring this marriage back together.”
    Ginger remained confused. The idea sounded good to her. No matter how bad things had gotten, Paul was still her husband and she silently prayed for their marriage to be saved.
    But her rational mind would not push aside obvious questions.
    â€œHow we gonna pay for this?” she asked. “The mortgage is due and we barely got Helena into college. You think we should borrow money to go on a vacation? I know you’re not saying that.”
    â€œI’m not saying that at all,” Paul said, sipping the last of his wine. “Something happened today. I got a call about the class-action suit. I have some money coming to me next week: seven thousand dollars.
    â€œWe can pay the mortgage and still have more than enough to go out there. Not long. Maybe three days. Enough to hit some vineyards and talk and see where we really are.”
    â€œSo you got some money coming in for the first time in almost a year and you want to spend it all?” Ginger asked. “What about saving some? Bills come around every month, you know? Or did you forget?”
    Paul was insulted but he did not let it show. It was not easy for him to hold back, but he did.
    â€œLet’s not forget that I have been providing some money for the longest here,” he said calmly. “I worked with Eric cutting grass. I drove a cab. I worked at Home Depot. Don’t act like I sat around here and did nothing. I’m not gonna let you put that out there like you might believe it’s true. I have tried.”
    â€œYou did, Paul,” she conceded. “I won’t deny that. But—”
    â€œThere is no but, Gin,” he jumped in. “I have been through hell this year. You don’t know what it’s like to work all of your life and then one day, out of the blue, someone tells you that you can’t work anymore. You can’t provide for your family.
    â€œThat’s not a small thing, Gin. It hurt. It changed me. And now I have some money coming my way; I deserve to take a vacation. You do, too.”
    He ain’t never lied , she thought to herself. Ginger was emotionally spent. Between her daughter being off to college and the drama Paul inflicted—and now his one hundred eighty degrees in attitude change—she thought she was in a bad dream. Going away with anyone would be an elixir to her doldrums. And to Napa Valley, the one place she and Paul talked about really wanting to visit?
    â€œYou really want me to go?” Ginger asked.
    â€œYes,” he answered.
    â€œWell, if you really do, then you’d do this one thing for me,” she said.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Paul wanted to know.
    â€œTake my mother with us,” she said.
    It was such an out-of-left-field request that Paul spat the wine in his mouth out onto the coffee table and a little on Ginger.
    â€œDamn, Paul. That’s disgusting,” she said, using a napkin to wipe off her arm.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “You surprised me with that.”
    Madeline Price, Ginger’s mother, lost her husband of 34 years about ten months prior, to