“I’m fine, Mom,” Zoe said. “Does anyone else want coffee?”
Before anyone had a chance to answer, she’d turned and walked off toward the café across the street. Bianca watched her go, wondering what was really going on between Zoe and Bas. They were clearly more than summer friends.
Chapter Eight
Remi
Remi’s bare feet were cold against the hardwood floors as she scampered outside to the patio, carrying a glass of lemonade. Zoe was stretched along a lawn chair in her gray lounge shorts and tank top, her eyes lightly closed. Remi plopped down beside her.
“Hey honey, you feeling better?” she asked, handing her the glass.
Zoe took the lemonade without opening her eyes. “Thanks, Mom. I’m fine. Really.”
Remi hesitated. “What was that back there at the flea market? With Bas?”
Zoe blinked at the sky. “I didn’t know he was bringing someone for the summer. It’s always been just me and him.”
Remi softened. “Well, you’ve got Mila here now. Maybe all four of you can hang out.”
Zoe shrugged, lips tight. Her gaze drifted to the pool.
Remi studied her daughter. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”
Zoe didn’t answer right away. She sipped her lemonade. “Can we just drop it? I’m really okay.”
Remi didn’t push the issue any further. She just gave Zoe’s leg a gentle pat, then rose and went back inside, the sliding glass door swooshing softly behind her. She watched from the door as Zoe seemed to exhale as if she was grateful that Remi had left. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Remi headed to the kitchen.
She washed the few dishes left in the sink, her hands moving on autopilot. Through the window she caught a glimpse of Zoe—still guarded, too quiet for summer. By now she and Bas would’ve been headed to the Sonoma Coast for a dip in the ocean. They’d have stayed gone most of the day, only to return home in the wee hours of the night. They spent just about every waking hour together during the summer, exploring both Napa Valley and the stunning coastal scenery. It amazed Remi how they found so much to do. And when they weren’t exploring, they swam in the pool or spent hours under the moonlight swatting mosquitoes and talking about only God knew what.
She dried her hands on a dish towel and leaned against the counter. The girl was trying so hard to hold it together. Just like her father, Remi thought. So strong, or at least pretending to be. She had Gerard’s confidence.
Remi shut that door in her mind. Thinking about Gerard always brought pain—pain she didn’t really feel like dealing with at the moment. In fact, she was learning to numb herself to it. It was easier that way.
She opened the fridge, not really hungry, and closed it again. Then she walked over to the dining table where Zoe’s sunglasses were left. Purple frames with a tiny scratch on the left lens. She picked them up and turned them over. She remembered Zoe at ten—running down the hallway of their Louisiana home, barefoot, crying over some girl at school who said she wasn’t cool enough to hang out with. Remi hadmade popcorn, curled up with her on the couch, and played Disney Channel reruns until Zoe was okay again.
By the next morning, Zoe had bounced back like she always did. She’d returned to school with her chin a little higher, her ponytails a little tighter, and, by lunchtime, had gathered a group of her own. Remi hadn’t been surprised. Even then, Zoe—like her father—had a way of commanding space, of turning rejection into resolve. She was a leader, even then.
Now, watching her daughter move through grief—and something else—with a quiet strength, Remi saw that same spirit shining through … like when she was younger. Different challenges but the same core. She was still that brave little girl—just older now, more layered, and more aware of the weight of things.
Remi took a deep breath, went back to the kitchen, and slid the leftover pizza in the fridge. The house had begun to settle into its evening hush. She made herself a cup of tea. Bianca had turned in early—finally catching up on the sleep she’d missed earlier. Mila was tucked away in her room, bingeing on one of her popular TV series. There was a quietness, not unusual, but different somehow. Distant, like she was hiding from something, but Remi didn’t put much thought into it. Mila had always been a little reserved, often disappeared into her own world. She was more introspective than outspoken. Not like Zoe, who said exactly what she meant. Mila held things closer, but perhaps she just needed the space.
Tomorrow morning would be full of activity. Paloma had organized an early staff meeting at the winery to go over timelines for the new tasting room, and delivery of the fermentation tank was scheduled before noon. She was tempted to call it a night herself, to retreat into the quiet of her bedroom. But first, she wanted to check on Zoe again; she was still out on the patio. Something in her motherly instinct told her that her child needed a little extra affection tonight.
She stepped outside, letting the glass door ease shut behind her. Zoe sat cross-legged in the same spot, earbuds in, scrolling her phone. She looked up when Remi approached but said nothing.
Remi eased down beside her. “You hungry? You didn’t eat any pizza tonight.”
Zoe shrugged. “Not really hungry.”
Remi nodded but didn’t press her about it. “I thought maybe we could drive into town tomorrow afternoon, after my meetings. Walk the square. Maybe hit up that little bookstore you love.”
Zoe glanced over, cautiously. “Just us?”
Remi smiled. “Just us.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. A cool breeze blew across the patio and caused Remi to shiver.
“I miss Daddy,” Zoe finally said, voice barely above a whisper.