Hanne Reilly

the glass settled onto the polished wood of the tasting room counter with a resonant click. freddie leaned her hip against the beveled edge of the bar, a incredulous smile spreading across her face as she looked over at her aunt. the absolute comedy of a man walking into an estate certified, high end vineyard, regardless of its nestled small town geography, and genuinely expecting a bargain bin price tag was exactly the kind of entertainment she needed to cap off her afternoon. "its the audacity for me, it never ceases to amaze me," freddie snorted, delivery dropping into that mocking cadence that usually preceded a devastating verbal execution. she let out a sharp laugh, her head shaking in a mix of pity and wonder.

"he probably thought he was doing you a favor by gracing the property with his presence. the level of delusion is a masterclass in ego. honestly, auntie, you should have tacked on an fee just for the minutes he wasted, walking in here with what i can only assume was a budget pulled straight from a gas station clearance rack" hanne still seemed to bear the faint flush of the encounter, that tensed shouldered residue of customer service politeness pushed to its absolute limit. yet, freddie hoped her immediate solidarity was doing its intended work, deftly dissolving her aunt's frustration and reshaping the entire awkward interaction into a private joke.

freddie reached out and wrapped her fingers around the stem of the glass hanne had poured, lifting it to her lips for a slow sip. the crisp, premium vintage hit exactly right, most definitely a contrast to whatever mass produced garbage the guy was probably used to choking down. "good riddance," she continued, setting the glass back down and offering her aunt a reassuring, completely unbothered look. "a man like that wouldn't even know how to appreciate what's in this bottle anyway. he would've taken it home, drowned it in ice, and ruined the entire experience. if you think about it, you didn't lose a sale. you saved the vintage from a tragic, undignified fate. consider it an act of cultural mercy."

"Ugh ice," Hanne scoffed, wagging a finger in Freddie's direction. "Honey, you know not to say things like that to me." Her tone had turned teasing. Freddie had heard her fair share of complaints from Hannelore about people who iced their wine. She was a purist when it came to wine, she'd never be on the side of icing it being totally fine. "You're right about that, though, my dear," Hanne went on, taking a long sip from her glass. "Tonight I kept my wine out of the hands of an unappreciative idiot." She lifted her glass in a cheers.

With the register closed and the doors locked for the night, Hanne was free to take her niece by the arm and lead her out onto the patio. With the bottle of chardonnay still in hand, she sank down into one of the plush chairs and let out a heavy sigh. It had been a long day. She was tired, but happy to see Freddie. "How are you, Fred? That boss of yours still testing your patience on a daily basis?" That was a very common thing for bosses to do, Hanne was sure she did it herself to her employees, but hopefully she didn't fire them up as much as Freddie's boss seemed to some days.

                accepting   wine   from   some   random   white   woman   in   the   park   was   ,   usually   ,   the   sort   of   thing   yasmin   would   have   avoided   doing   altogether   in   new   york   .   people   in   the   big   apple   weren't   often   offering   drinks   up   for   free   ,   and   if   they   were   then   they   were   usually   up   to   something   .   but   pinehaven   didn't   seem   like   the   sort   of   place   where   weirdos   hung   about   ,   offering   to   share   wine   only   for   it   to   be   spiked   ,   so   she   took   the   plastic   cup   with   a   smile   .   against   her   better   judgment   ,   of   course   .

                “   while   i   ordinarily   wouldn't   take   you   up   on   this   ,   i   believe   that   alcohol   is   one   of   those   things   that   can   make   most   bad   situations   better   .   there   are   definitely   caveats   to   that   ,   but   this   isn't   one   of   them   ,   ”   she   shook   her   head   ,   taking   a   sip   and   quickly   swallowing   it   down   .   the   smooth   ,   mellow   flavors   of   the   wine   soothed   both   her   tongue   and   her   nerves   .   “   you   made   this   ,   you   said   ?   you   own   a   vineyard   or   something   ?   god   ,   please   say   yes   .   if   i   find   out   you   brewed   this   in   your   bathtub   ,   i'm   calling   a   private   investigator   immediately   .   ”

"My name is Hanne," She said as she topped off her cup with wine and sat the bottle between them so it was easily reachable for refills. Hanne studied the woman, realizing that she looked familiar but she couldn't quite place her. "You look familiar," She noted aloud. "But not from around town... help me out? No modesty allowed." If this woman was famous in certain crowds, Hanne needed her to spill her guts, not try and be humble about it.

                when   declan   was   younger   but   had   grasped   the   severity   of   the   situation   ,   that   his   dad   was   gone   and   never   coming   back   ,   he   would   frequently   go   through   patrick's   things   .   his   clothes   ,   his   pictures   ,   the   jewelry   he   seemed   to   keep   but   not   wear   .   there   were   things   he   took   ,   like   his   old   washington   university   sweatshirt   and   the   watch   that   didn't   work   ,   but   there   were   also   things   that   he   left   alone   .   old   records   ,   out   of   fear   he   might   try   to   play   them   and   scratch   them   up   ;   shoes   he   couldn't   see   himself   wearing   anywhere   ;   the   hairbrush   that   still   had   strands   of   ginger   locks   woven   through   the   bristles   .   though   he   wanted   those   things   ,   it   felt   more   apt   to   leave   them   on   his   dresser   or   nightstand   ,   as   if   he   might   walk   back   through   the   door   and   need   them   at   any   moment   .

                he   was   equally   as   interested   in   his   parents'   relationship   .   he   had   once   discovered   an   old   wedding   video   and   would   play   it   over   and   over   on   the   old   vcr   in   the   living   room   .   he   would   analyze   the   footage   ,   holding   a   hand   mirror   up   to   his   face   to   detect   which   of   his   features   matched   patrick's   the   most   .   eyes   ,   nose   ,   teeth   ?   all   he   knew   for   certain   was   that   red   hair   was   an   incredibly   strong   gene   ,   one   that   both   he   and   his   sister   had   obtained   .   when   he   was   sure   that   he   would   somehow   ruin   the   tape   ,   he   borrowed   it   from   his   mother   and   digitized   it   ;   leaving   it   on   a   usb   that   he   could   plug   into   his   laptop   at   any   time   and   just   .   .   .   watch   .

                    the   smile   that   would   light   up   their   faces   on   each   zoom   in   ,   the   way   the   lights   twinkled   off   of   his   mom's   wedding   gown   ,   his   grandma   crying   in   the   background   .   he   had   every   moment   committed   to   memory   ,   millions   of   neurons   working   together   to   make   sure   that   he   didn't   forget   a   single   second   .   so   when   the   telltale   drum   kicked   in   to   signify   the   start   of   the   song   ,   he   immediately   recognized   it   .   and   ,   because   he   couldn't   deny   his   mom   ,   he   stood   up   to   dance   with   her   .   for   almost   no   one   else   in   the   world   would   he   potentially   embarrass   himself   ,   dancing   at   a   wedding   he   was   only   sorta   kinda   invited   to   (   did   it   count   when   literally   the   entire   town   had   been   asked   to   come   ?   )   .

                    he   secured   one   arm   around   her   waist   ,   his   free   hand   falling   into   hers   as   they   swayed   to   the   music   .   “   i   remember   ,   ”   he   responded   ,   because   how   could   he   forget   ?   those   were   some   of   his   favorite   memories   of   the   two   of   them   ,   dancing   in   the   living   room   to   his   parents'   favorite   love   songs   .   “   that's   probably   the   reason   why   i   don't   have   the   world's   worst   rhythm   today   .   i   had   lots   of   practice   when   i   was   little   ,   ”   he   chuckled   .   “   and   don't   get   any   ideas   .   i'm   not   getting   married   any   time   soon   .   ”

And, of course, the two very best things he'd left behind when he passed, Darcy and Declan. Looking at them she got to see her husband every day. It broke Hanne's heart that they only got to know him through memories, but it was so special to see how they had grown into versions of him without even realizing. She missed Patrick every day, she would miss him every day. But the days got easier, especially when she had one of her children close.

"You're too young to get married," Hanne agreed, tutting her tongue softly. Even madly in love, she and Patrick had waited until their late 20s to tie the knot. She smiled up at Declan, still imaging what his wedding day could look like even if she hoped it wasn't anytime soon. He was going to make someone very happy one day, as happy as his dad had always made her. "But the practice dancing to love songs will come in handy, I'm sure... Hanne added airily.

"You shouldn't waste all your moves on me tonight, though," Hanne mused, spotting a certain young lady weaving her way through the crowd across the room. "Maybe Shrey would like to dance." She smiled, shrugging one shoulder. Shreya likely wouldn't want to dance, but Hanne thought she'd say yes if Declan asked her to.

                    “   this   is   terrible   ,   ”   she   mumbled   ,   unsure   if   anyone   was   listening   but   sure   that   she   didn't   give   a   damn   if   they   were   .   who   exactly   had   put   this   play   together   ?   someone   was   wearing   a   ripped   toga   ;   there   was   no   lighting   ;   one   of   the   backdrop   pieces   had   melting   paint   running   down   the   side   of   it   ;   and   she   was   pretty   sure   the   actress   playing   hippolyta   was   wearing   a   thirty-inch   buss   down   with   lifted   edges   .   “   but   if   i   leave   a   bad   review   on   the   community   theater   page   online   ,   suddenly   i'll   be   the   bad   guy   .   hasn't   anyone   ever   heard   of   rehearsing   in   this   godforsaken   town   ?   ”

                    she   knew   for   a   fact   she   could   get   up   on   that   stage   and   do   a   better   job   than   any   one   of   them   ,   and   the   only   thing   holding   her   back   was   not   knowing   the   script   .   she'd   never   performed   in   a   midsummer   night's   dream   before   ,   but   she   was   highly   considering   taking   over   and   improvising   .   it   would   be   a   better   show   than   what   she   was   currently   witnessing   .   “   are   you   seeing   this   mess   ?   ”   she   asked   ,   turning   to   the   person   sitting   next   to   her   .   “   they   didn't   even   give   us   a   playbill   or   nothing   .   god   ,   i   need   to   go   home   .   ”

"Wine helps, if you're interested," She offered, smiling. Reaching a hand back into her bag she found another little plastic cup and handed it over. "It's good, and I can say that with confidence because I made it." One of the many perks of owning her own winery was the copious amounts of free wine always on hand, and free wine meant that these not so great events were made a tiny bit better.