“Listen,” said Tess. “I used to be like you. I used to be you. I was a life-support system for a job, mad at the world without really knowing why.”
“What?” Natalie frowned, then looked around at the house—which literally had a white picket fence—and the kids and dogs. “No way.”
“Way. Do you know, I once ended up in the ER with a panic attack?”
“Seriously? Oh, Tess. I never knew that about you. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Honestly, I was a hot mess. Thought I was having a heart attack.” She was quiet for a few minutes. Then she said, “It seems like long ago—a different life, back when I was single and living in the city, before all this happened.” She gestured to encompass the vineyards, the husband and family. “I was obsessed with my career. A career I was so, so good at.”
She used to work as a provenance expert for a high-end antiquities auction house—that much Natalie knew. In fact, Tess had helped Natalie’s mother in valuing some of the rare books at Lost and Found. “I’m pretty sure I drove people batty,” Tess admitted. “I know for sure I drove myself batty.”
“I can’t even picture that.”
“It happened. I survived. And I’m not trying to scare you. I’m not saying you’re dealing with anything like anxiety, but for me, lying in the ER, convinced I was dying, was a wake-up call.”
“I’m woke. Too woke, according to people at work.” She told Tess about Mandy’s habit of making mistakes, and her own constant vigilance and extra work to correct them.
“Let me get this straight,” said Tess. “This woman screws up on a daily basis, and you cover up for her. Not that you owe her anything, but why would you help her out all the time?”
“Because I’m her supervisor. And because I can.”
“Well, here’s a question for you: What would happen if you stopped covering for Mandy and let her fail? What then?”
“I’ve asked myself that many times,” Natalie admitted. “It would suck for the whole company. If I hadn’t fixed things just this afternoon, we would have lost the account and the firm’s reputation would suffer. So would mine, since I’m her supervisor. Eventually, she’d get fired. And she does need her job. She’s single, raising a couple of young kids.”
“And how is that your responsibility?” Tess asked.
“Because I—” Natalie paused. “It’s not.”
“So . . . ?”
Natalie swirled the wine in her glass. Wine was such a beautiful thing, complex and rich and delicious. The whole company she worked for had been founded solely on the basis of this fine substance, bringing comfort and joy to those who knew how to savor it.
Yet for Natalie, there was no joy. Just a job. A steady, lucrative job with benefits. A pension plan. Everything her mom had done without all her life. “Not bailing Mandy out when I know exactly how to do it seems manipulative. I don’t want to be the agent of her downfall.”
“I get that, and I get where you’re coming from. We were both raised by single moms. Not a dad in sight. Did our moms fall down?”
Natalie thought about her mother, who had somehow managed to deal with financial struggles without collapsing utterly. Tess and her half sister, Isabel, had grown up without their father, who had gone missing before they were born.
Natalie, on the other hand, knew exactly where her father was. Though Blythe was fond of saying that life had given her everything she wanted, Natalie sometimes wondered if that was really true. Blythe was a bundle of contradictions. She would take any risk in business, but never with her heart.
“If you keep rescuing your coworker,” Tess went on, “she’ll never figure things out on her own. You’d be surprised by how much you can learn from failure.”
“It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” Natalie remarked.
“See, my point is, you’re not doing her any favors by constantly mopping up behind her. Saving a person takes away her power to learn and move forward.”
“How’d you get so smart about these things?” Natalie asked. “Pregnancy hormones?”
“Right.” Tess chuckled.
Natalie reminded herself to savor the deep, rich wine and the glorious colors of the gathering sunset. She had a good life. A good job. A good friend. “I have to say, you’re better than therapy. It’s been a crappy day. Not just work and my mom being a no-show.” She sighed again. “I don’t think Rick and I are going to make it.”
“You and Rick? You seem so great together. What happened?” asked Tess.
“Well, that’s part of the problem. Nothing really happened. Nothing at all. He’s a perfectly nice guy and—outside of work, I suppose—I’m a perfectly nice person. We’re compatible, but . . . I’m not sure compatible is enough. We’ve been together for almost a year, and things haven’t really progressed.”
“Oh, man. Do you want them to progress?”
Natalie gazed out at the sweeping landscape, vineyards and orchards, endless bounty. Rick sometimes took her flying to enjoy the scenery, and she loved it. She wanted to be able to say she loved him. “I want to be crazy about him. I should be crazy about him. He’s great-looking. Successful. Good enough in bed. Has a nice family down in Petaluma.”
“And yet . . .”
“Exactly. There’s a yet.” She studied the horizon, a gently undulating sine wave where the hills met the sky. “I wish there weren’t. I wish I could feel all in.” It was true. She craved some heady mixture of passion and certainty and excitement that didn’t feel threatening or risky.
Maybe that was the point, though. Maybe the very nature of excitement was risk.
In that case, she could do without the excitement. “Mom says I’m too closed off to intimacy,” she confessed. “She would know, of course. She’s been single all her life. And she claims she’s happy. So why does she think I need someone? Can’t I be happy too?”
“Of course you can. Your mom sounds like mine—a bundle of contradictions. Keeps things interesting. Ah, Nat. I’m sorry your mom couldn’t be bothered to show up, and I’m sorry you and Rick are at a low point. But your promotion is awesome and well deserved.” She paused. “You’re my friend and I love you so this is coming from a place of love. Do you think maybe you’re cranky because of the work?”
“Well, duh,” Natalie replied. “The work is . . . ah, just work. But I’m excellent at it. Much as I wish I could find something both steady and inspiring, I don’t think that exists for me.”
“Somewhere along the way, you’ve convinced yourself that feeling excitement is risky.”
“Growing up in a bookstore can do that to a person. I won’t deny it was fun—surrounded by all those books, the customers coming and going, the shipments of new titles every month—that was the fun part. But at some point, I realized Mom was drowning in debt, month in and month out.”
“And that scared you into going for a steady career with no surprises.”
Natalie nodded. “I can’t be fearless like my mom. Maybe she likes the roller coaster. She doesn’t mind being behind on the bills, because she’s always sure she’ll have a better day.”