The Vineyard

The Vineyard by Barbara Delinsky Page A

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Authors: Barbara Delinsky
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respectively, Olivia and Tess set off for Rhode Island. They left behind a law student delighted with her summer sublet, a retirement-bound photo restorer, and, at curbside, a perturbed Ted.
    â€œHe has his hands on his hips,” Tess reported, looking through her side mirror. “Why is he so angry?”
    Olivia refused to look back. She made a practice in life of not doing that. Once a decision was made and a course of action set, the only way to look was ahead. That said, she was sad saying good-bye to Otis and felt a twinge of regret on leaving the apartment. What she felt leaving Ted, though, was pure relief.
    â€œHe’s not angry,” she told Tess. “He’s hurt. He wanted us to spend the summer here with him.”
    â€œDoing what? Riding the
swan
boats? That’s all Ted thinks I
do
. It wouldn’t occur to him that I like to shop.”
    It hadn’t occurred to Olivia, either. In their household, shopping had always been more functional than fun. But Olivia had an image of what people wore summers in Asquonset—especially summersof parties preceding a wedding—and it wasn’t what hung in her closet. She didn’t want to embarrass Natalie, and the fiancé might be even
more
fashionable. He was still a big question mark. Olivia had pictured a wine baron from the vineyards of France, until Otis said that his name was Carl Burke, at which point she ruled out France. The name was Irish. Since she hadn’t ever heard of any Irish wine families, she made him the Irish American head of a California vineyard. She imagined a dignified, elegant, classy man. Men like that surrounded themselves with dignified, elegant, classy people.
    Since that circle would temporarily include Tess and her, Olivia loosened the purse strings and took Tess to the stores. Suddenly the daughter who wore nothing but T-shirts and jeans was a whole new creature. She tried on colorful shorts and halter tops, short skirts and sundresses—not only tried them on but
modeled
them—and she looked adorable in everything, because she was smiling. In different clothes, she was a different person. Olivia didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her the meaning of that.
    Asquonset was a new beginning, and she had Otis to thank. She hadn’t even had to go for a personal interview. Natalie had hired her on his word alone.
    Ted was appalled. “But don’t
you
want to see where you’re going? Okay, so you’ve seen photographs, but they can’t tell you what you need to know. Photographs don’t tell the truth. She’s
clearly
sending ones that show the place at its best—that’s how it’s done.”
    Olivia didn’t think that arguing was worth the effort. Ted’s pessimism was pure sour grapes. He refused to see that their relationship was ending, and continued to talk about calling her each night, meeting her for dinner midway between Cambridge and Asquonset, even driving down to visit. She tried to put him off gently with pleas of needing to get to know the job, of finding out how demanding it would be. When he didn’t take the hint, she was more blunt. She was feeling stifled, she said. She needed space.
    Even then he didn’t listen. Ted didn’t hear what he didn’t want to hear, and that was his problem. But Olivia wasn’t letting him rain on her parade. She refused to let him disparage Asquonset.
    â€œThe pictures I’ve seen aren’t marketing photographs,” she informed him. “They were taken before anyone even knew what marketing
was
. Some of them are snapshots from a Brownie camera. They’re the real thing.”
    Otis had confirmed it. When pushed, he had confessed to being at Asquonset a number of times. Had he ever met Carl Burke? He didn’t recall it, but he did recall the Great House. He said it was even more beautiful than the photographs—quite a concession from a man who had been spurned.
    Besides,

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