"We source a Viognier from Willamette Valley for Harbor & Ash." I duck under a low-hanging branch. "Really floral, almost like apricots. Great with shellfish. We should compare notes sometime. If that's allowed under the extensive list of things I'm forbidden from doing."
"Wine discussion is not explicitly banned." She says primly. "Yet."
"I'll take what I can get."
We walk in silence for a few paces, and I can see why people pay a thousand dollars a night to stay here. I've been to Solstice a few times, but I always stayed at a little Airbnb about fifteen minutes down the road in the town of Solstice Ridge.
It’s a nice town, and with significantly cheaper lodging than the vineyard estate where celebrities and professional athletes come to escape their lives. Walking through the actual grounds like this, though, I'm reminded of what they’re paying for. I glance over at Isabelle, who’s walking a half step ahead of me now, her pace quick and purposeful.
"So," I say. "What else am I not allowed to do? I want to make sure I have the complete list."
"Don't talk to my cooks about technique. Don't rearrange anything in the walk-in.” She ticks items off on her fingers without breaking stride. “Don't offer feedback on plating unless I specifically ask, which I won't. Don't be late to service. Don't get in my way during prep."
I shift my duffel to my other shoulder. "That's a lot ofdon'ts."
"I have more."
"I believe you. Are there any things Iamallowed to do?"
She considers this, tilting her head slightly. "You can breathe. You can exist in my general vicinity as long as you're notannoying about it, which might be difficult for you. You can help out as long as you listen to everything I say and do everything I ask."
"Breathing, existing, and following orders." I nod. "I can work with that."
She lets out a small laugh, which I take as a good sign. The path opens up to a clearing on the edge of the vineyard where the cottages are scattered among olive trees, their silvery-green leaves catching the late light. The buildings are small, stone and stucco, each with its own porch that looks out to Napa Valley.
"Are you always like this?" she asks suddenly, turning to look at me.
"Like what?" I shoot back, stopping and meeting her eyes.
"This." She says with a thread of irritation. "Cheerful. Relaxed. Like nothing gets to you."
"Plenty of things get to me. Bad produce. Cooks who don't clean their stations. People who overcook fish.” I shrug. "But yeah, I guess I try not to stress about things I can't control. It seems like a waste of energy."
"And this doesn't matter to you?" She gestures at the vineyard. "My father forcing you to do this before he’ll go into business with you? Having to watch over me?"
"I spend some time in possibly the most beautiful spot in the Napa Valley, and at the end of it I get my restaurant. That's a pretty good deal for me." I look at her. "And I meant what I said earlier. You're running a pop-up at one of the best estates in the valley and you clearly know what you're doing. So I'm not here to screw you over. I think we can both get what we want from this."
She looks at me for a long moment, like she's trying to figure out if I mean it.
"You know I've heard about Harbor & Ash," she says finally, and her voice is less hostile. "From thatFood & Winepiece last year. And my father told me in our little phone conversationthat your tasting menu was one of the best meals he's had on the West Coast. So I guess you're probably not terrible at what you do, and if I think I need a hand I'll… ask you."
The last part chokes out of her like she's physically allergic to the words, and I can't help but laugh out loud. "Well, thank you. I can see that took a lot out of you. I'm genuinely touched."
She rolls her eyes, but she's starting to smile too. "Yeah, well. Don't let it go to your head."
"Too late." I grin. "It's already there. Taking up residence. Building a little house. I think it's going to put in a garden."
"You're ridiculous," she says, but there's no heat in it now.
"I've been told." I smile back at her, and for a second we're just standing there in the clearing, the evening light going soft around us, and something shifts. Not a lot. Not enough to call it a truce. But maybe the beginning of one.
"Hmmph." She turns and starts walking again, but I catch the edge of a smile before she does.
We pass cottage nine and stop in front of the porch of cottage ten a bit further down, facing west toward the fading light.
"This is you," she says.
"Pretty great setup." I take in the view and drop my duffel on the porch and turn back to face her. "Thanks for the tour. And the list of rules. I'll try to memorize them before tomorrow."