Didrik gave a start. Bente?
“Bente is going to tell us about the best wines available this spring.”
And there she was, wearing a pale-green, silky, knee-length dress with long sleeves.
She went over to the table where four bottles of wine were waiting, with three glasses in front of each one. Didrik didn’t move for a second or two. He was completely unprepared. Then he felt Krissie’s inquiring gaze.
“I believe you two are working together on a new show?” Didrik put on his most professional expression, got up from the sofa, and went over to join the two women. He was almost dazzled by the reflection of the spotlights in the highly polished glasses.
“That’s right,” Bente said. “It’s going to combine wine and history, and we’re actually heading off to Bordeaux in a couple of weeks, where we’ll attempt to track down the origins of a mysterious old bottle of wine.”
“Sounds great,” Krissie said. “Definitely a show to look forward to!”
Didrik nodded in agreement. He looked into Bente’s eyes. Their deep-green color reminded him of green wine bottles under those studio lights. She smiled politely. Coolly. How could she be so frosty? So distant?
Didrik had never been able to love half-heartedly. He couldn’t feel an attraction and a passion for someone and then simply move on. He found it so hard to understand how someone couldn’t open up completely when they really liked the other person.
The wine had already been poured into large glasses.
“Are we tasting Bordeaux wines today?” Krissie asked, picking up the first glass before swirling it around and sniffing.
“No, I’ve selected Pinot Noir, which is mainly associated with Burgundy and the New World. It’s a fantastic grape at this time of year, springtime, especially to accompany lighter dishes. It’s used to produce reds, but also sparkling wines and rosés. I have a wonderful Austrian rosé to begin with.”
They sniffed and sipped while Bente talked about the wine, then she moved on to an American Pinot Noir.
“Mmm ...” Krissie said. “A wine for the hammock!”
Bente smiled. “If you take another sip, I think you’ll find this wine has slightly fiery, smoky notes. You can almost taste a charcoal grill! And caramelized tones—it opens up gradually.”
Unlike certain people,Didrik thought, hoping she couldn’t see how hurt he was.
Bente closed her eyes. “This is one of my favorites—I love it.”
She spoke with such intensity about wine. Would she ever be able to feel evenhalfof that passion for him?
Didrik nodded. Made an odd comment about licorice even though he couldn’t taste any licorice at all. She lobbed a quick response back at him, said there might be a hint of aniseed, a touch of something herbal.
He couldn’t help himself. “Don’t you think there’s an element of thatched roof in this wine?” His tone was awkward. He hadn’t meant to sound exactly the way he felt; he’d planned to hide it a little better. He swirled the glass around. “Dish soap?”
Krissie gave him an uncertain look. Laughed disarmingly. “You’re being very creative, Didrik.”
Bente smiled. “Maybe—there’s certainly a freshness, perhaps a little fruitiness.”
When it came to the next wine, Didrik managed to comment first. “I’m getting ...” He paused, and his poor aunt forced a smile. “Sweaty horse.” He was sure he’d heard that stupid description somewhere.
“Sweaty horse.” Bente’s expression grew serious, and she remained silent for a few seconds. “Funny you should say that.” She sniffed the red wine, turned to face him, and fixed him with her gaze. “The person who first got me interested in wine sometimes used that description for red wines.” She stared meaningfully at Didrik, and something happened deep inside him. It was as if she wanted to show him that there was a little leeway, after all, that she could open up. But there was also a tentative little smile on her face, as if she were saying sorry.
“He’d picked the term up from a TV show in the eighties,” she added.
“And who was it who got you interested in wine?” Krissie asked.
“My father.” Her voice trembled, and he saw that her eyes were shining with tears.
“He must be so proud of you,” Krissie said.
“I’m sure he would have been.”
It was all Didrik could do not to close the distance between them, take her in his arms, and hold her. Instead he reached out his hand under the table so that no one could see. Squeezed her hand.
