“Yeah.” He took his time getting off the sofa. Maddy followed her mom into the kitchen and stopped short just inside the door.
“Mom!” she cried. “I can’t believe you brought the crown!” Sitting on the scrubbed round kitchen table was an object that resembled a Burger King crown with schizophrenia. It actually was an old Burger King crown—practically museum-quality. Dried macaroni, old pieces of faded yarn, shells, and plastic beads were stuck all over the gold cardboard with a liberal, crumbling layer of Elmer’s glue. Maddy had made the crown at her own princess-themed sixth birthday party. Everyone had had a glorious, sticky, messy time decorating their own crowns. On the front, Maddy had written maddy birthday girl in careful, wobbly print. She remembered being so proud that she’d made the G facing the right direction. The crown had been preserved and trotted out every year until Maddy finally forbade its appearance at her twelfth-birthday pool party. Her mother had seemed to understand at the time, and the crown hadn’t reappeared since—until now.
Maddy looked at her mom and dad. They were grinning. Brian stood in the doorway, looking confused.
“You know, guys,” she said, “at first I thought that, since 176
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I’m seventeen, a tiara from Cartier would be nice, but after seeing this crown again, I’ve totally changed my mind.” Her parents applauded as she placed it on her head and bowed, trying to keep the crown from crashing to the floor.
“Here, honey, get in a picture with Dad.” Maddy’s mother was wielding the digital camera. Obligingly, Maddy and her dad draped their arms around each other’s shoulders and smiled. Then her father took the camera and everyone shuffled around.
“Now one with your mom.” Click.
“Okay, now me and Brian,” Maddy said. He was still standing forlornly in the doorway. “Come here, cutie.”
He came over. She put her arms around him and gave him a hug. “Are you having a good time?” she whispered. He looked down at her. “Yeah, of course,” he said, as if there were no other possible option.
“Okay, kids, smile!” Maddy’s dad aimed the camera at them. Click.
“Let me see, Dad,” Maddy took the camera and everyone bent over the tiny screen. She paged through a series of photos of the grapevines and the house before coming to the ones they had just taken. There were general murmurs of “Cute!” and “Good one” at the pictures of Maddy with her parents, but when she came to the one of Brian and her, everyone squinted at the screen. 177
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Maddy could see why—it wasn’t very good: Brian had his eyes closed for one thing, but it wasn’t just that. His clothes looked too harsh and dark against the soft wood of the background and her white cotton dress, and they were standing kind of stiffly, their arms around each other’s waists. It looked like they’d just met and had been told to stand still to have their photo taken.
“Well!” her mother said, turning away. “Very nice.”
Maddy could tell by the tone of her voice that her mom had noticed the dissonance also. Maddy tried to quell the tiny worm of worry inside her. Things were a little off, but they’d been apart for a while. Right now she and Brian were together—that was what mattered. 178
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!
Where are we going, Mom?” Maddy asked. “I’m starving.” She was starting to get a little annoyed. It was already nine thirty, and for the last ten minutes, she, Brian, and her parents had been weaving their way through the grapevines, up and down different rows, as if they were hunting something. Maddy’s full skirt brushed her ankles as she walked. The full moon cast a ghostly white light over the field, and an abundance of stars were flung across the inky black sky. Was this some sort of pre-dinner scavenger hunt her parents had cooked up? She could hear Brian’s footsteps behind her. Up ahead, the adults reached the end of a row and turned right, disappearing.
“Oh, here you are! We were lost. I forgot where 179
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you . . .” The rest of her mother’s words were lost in an indistinct mumble.
What the hell was going on? Maddy walked faster and finally broke into a trot. She turned down the row her parents were in and skidded to a halt so fast that Brian, close behind her, almost sent her sprawling into the dirt.
There, in the middle of the grapevines, was the most beautiful feast she had ever seen, spread on a simple white cloth. Bunches of lavender, grasses, and daisies stood in big pottery pitchers down the center of the long table. Candles in clear glass holders were scattered between the flowers, spreading a warm yellow glow over everything. Vineyard tomatoes and thick white slices of fresh mozzarella with basil stood at one end. A bowl heaped with arugula, endive, and radicchio was liberally sprinkled with—Maddy laughed—blue cheese crumbles. Crowded near the salad was a platter of cold salmon with dill, drizzled with a silky cream sauce. A gorgeous chocolate torte stood next to a white bowl of glowing raspberry sauce. David stood next to Fred, leaning his palms on the end of the table. Maddy’s eyes met his, and he grinned. “The torte is coffee-chocolate,” he said.
“Wow!” Maddy exclaimed. “This is so gorgeous!
Look at all of this!” Everyone was grinning. “Whose idea was this?” She looked questioningly at her mother. Mom was smiling and shaking her head.
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“It wasn’t me, honey.”
Maddy looked around. “It wasn’t you?” David’s grin broadened as he saw the realization dawn on her face. Maddy looked at him, amazed. “You? I can’t believe you’d—” She caught herself and quickly tore her eyes away from his.
He looked down and brushed an invisible crumb from the table. “It’s nothing—just some stuff I put together this afternoon.” His voice was low, but the pleasure in it was unmistakable.
“Arrmmhh.” Brian cleared his throat.
“Oh, I’m sorry. David, this is Brian, my . . . boyfriend.” She wondered if the tiny pause had been apparent to anyone else. The two boys eyed each other—
one very tall and lean, clean-shaven, with curly light brown hair, the other dark-haired and blue-eyed, a threeday scruff on his chin. David jerked his head once. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Brian stuck his hands in his pockets. David reached out and plucked a piece of yarn off Maddy’s shoulder. He held it out. “This fell off your crown,” he said solemnly.
“Oh! Thanks.” She took the yarn. “It sheds sometimes.”
“I noticed,” he replied with a funny look on his face.
“Well, okay!” Maddy’s father said heartily, looking from Brian’s furrowed brow to David’s bland expression 181
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with the air of a hockey referee trying to head off a brawl on the ice. “Let’s eat.”
The food was incredible. Maddy couldn’t stop eating. Her mom insisted David tell her the recipe for the cream sauce, and he laughed and shook his head, saying that Mondavi chefs would hunt him down if he let that gem get out. Maddy looked around the table at everyone’s faces, illuminated by the soft candlelight, the wind blowing up the rows and occasionally lifting one end of the tablecloth. This had to be one of her best birthdays yet.
“Well, honey, this is the first birthday here at the vineyard,” Maddy’s father said, glancing around the table and smiling.
“Stop, Dad, I can hear the violins starting,” Maddy teased.
Suddenly, there was a thud next to her. Maddy looked over to find Brian lying on the ground, flat on his back, lying on top of the wooden chair he had been sitting on. A chair leg was lying in the dirt a few feet away.
“Oh my God, Brian. Are you okay?” She leaned down.
“What happened?” Maddy’s mother asked with concern. Everyone was craning to look over at Brian, who had picked himself up and was now brushing the clingy dust from his blue shirt, his face red.
“I was just sitting there and the chair bottom busted through.” He picked up the chair. The woven rush seat 182
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