Something in the Wine by Jae Page A

Annie. “Think what you want, oh clueless one. But if he asks you out before the end of the week, you owe me lunch.”
    It wouldn’t happen anyway, so Annie nodded. “Fine. And if he doesn’t ask me out, you pay for lunch.” Maybe that would teach Sarah that not everything was about dating, romance, and relationships.
    “Deal. So are you coming to the book club meeting on Saturday?” Sarah asked.
    Annie shook her head. “Not this week.”
    Sarah’s bright red lips twisted into an expression of dismay. “Oh, come on. You can clean your apartment—or whatever it is you’re doing—another time. You’ve got to come. We’re discussing that Carol O’Connell novel you wanted us to read for months.”
    “Yeah, I know.” Part of Annie was tempted to cancel the wine tasting. Maybe this whole idea was just crazy. But then she mentally shook her head. If she gave up, Jake would have the last laugh—as he always did. For once, she wanted to beat him at his own game. “I’ve already got plans.”
    “Ooooh!” Sarah leaned forward. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a date!”
    Now it was Annie’s turn to roll her eyes. Sarah saw romance everywhere. “No date. A ... a friend invited me to a wine tasting.”
    Sarah grinned. “Friend, huh?”
    “Yes, friend. Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a one-track mind?”
    “Oh, yeah.” Sarah stood and sauntered toward the door, where she turned and winked at Annie. “My boyfriend. But, of course, he doesn’t mind.”
    Annie folded her arms on her desk, rested her head on top of them, and groaned.

Chapter 4
    When her mother opened the door with blue streaks on her forehead, Annie knew she would clean up the attic alone.
    “Oh, hi, darling,” her mother said and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Is it ten already? Do you mind waiting? I need to finish the sky before the paint I mixed dries out. I’m working on a seascape for an exhibition in December. Did I tell you about it?”
    Annie, used to not getting to answer when her mother started talking about art, followed her into the house. “Yes, you did. I can get started on the attic if you want.”
    “No, come and keep me company and catch me up on how you’re doing,” her mother said.
    A Chinese vase nearly crashed to the floor when Annie ran into it. What’s going on with her? She couldn’t remember the last time her mother took the time to get caught up on the events in Annie’s life. Eyeing her mother cautiously, Annie followed her to the studio.
    Her mother instantly disappeared behind an easel. “So how’s work?”
    “A little stressful,” Annie said. “My boss gave me a big account. The client is one of the biggest landowners in the county, so it’s pretty exciting to work on a project of that size.”
    “That’s nice, darling,” her mother said without looking up from her painting. “Can you hand me that cloth over there?”
    Annie pressed her lips together and handed her the cloth. No “I’m proud of you.” Neither of her parents had ever told her that, nor had they ever told her that they loved her. I don’t know why I expected today to be different.
    “After we clean up the attic, can you stay a little longer and help me pack some of the paintings for the exhibition?” her mother asked.
    “Sorry,” Annie said. “I can’t.”
    “Great,” her mother said. “Then we’ll—” She stopped and stepped out from behind her easel to stare at Annie.
    Annie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry. Maybe I can come over and help you tomorrow. I’m invited to a wine tasting tonight, so I have to leave here around two.”
    “Oh, that’s nice,” her mother said again and disappeared behind her easel. “So who invited you? Anyone I know?” She sounded distracted, as if most of her attention was not on the conversation anymore.
    “No,” Annie said. Her parents didn’t know any of her friends. “It’s someone I just recently met.”
    “A new friend?”