Page 59 of That Conflicted Feeling

“Geraldis famous for his unique fruit and vegetable combos,”Iexplain toMaxasGeraldemerges, red-faced, from the cooler with three partially consumed bottles.

“Liketo add something new to the repertoire every year.”Heplunks them proudly on the table. “Hereyou go.”

Helines up six small plastic tasting cups and pours us both a splash of each of the three wines.

“Startwith the lightest first, the gooseberry and zucchini.Andwork your way up to the beet and blackberry.Thatone’s much meatier.”

Maxholds up his first tester to tap it against mine.

“Heregoes,” he says, as if he’s back at the exotic food restaurant and about to force down some unmentionable animal part.

Weboth take a sip.

Now,Idon’t know much about wine.ButIhave smelled toilet cleaner.Andthis tastes exactly like that smells.

Maxsqueezes his eyes shut and looks like he’s fighting with all his might to hold his head still and not shake it like a dog with something stuck in its ear.

“Oh, that is good,” he says, managing to convinceGeraldhis eyes were closed in pleasure rather than impending nausea. “Unique.Definitelyunique.”

Geraldstraightens his shoulders with pride. “Ah, well if you like that, you’ll like the parsnip and prune even more.”

Hepoints at the pinkish wine in the middle cups.

Maxthrows me a look out of the corner of his eye that sayshow the hell do we get out of this?Hevaliantly picks up a drink, takes a sniff, purses his lips in barely disguised revulsion, and nods.

“So,Gerald,” he starts.

Ifight the giggles, knowing the only reason he’s making conversation is to avoid tasting it.

Maxwaves the cup around as he talks, like he’s trying to accidentally spill the contents. “Ihear you’re on the local council.”

“ThatIam, sir.”Geraldrubs his belly again. “Thirtyyears and counting.It’slike my family.Servedon almost all the committees in my time.Onplanning at the moment.Areal responsibility to save our unique architecture.”

“Andprevent hideous monstrosities going up in their place,”Isay toGerald, while staring hard atMax.

“Definitelythat too.”Geraldnods.

“Yup.”Ikeep my attention onMax’sfirm cheekbones, strong jawline, and plump lips. “Welost a real treasure when the oldPictureHouseburned down, didn’t we,Gerald?”

“Oh, now, that was a jewel ofMainStreet,” he says. “Andso many happy memories from whenIwas a kid watching movies with my old grandad.”

Twocouples arrive beside us and start browsing the wines.

Maxseizes the opportunity to avoid an awkward conversation and another wine-tasting.Heputs down his cup and pulls a wallet from his back pocket.

“Youknow what,Gerald,Idon’t need to taste any more.Iwas so taken with the gooseberry and zucchini thatI’lltake one of those, please.”

Geraldpoints at him knowingly. “Icould tell you liked that one right away.”Henods at me as he reaches for a fresh bottle and hands it toMax. “Aman of fine taste you have here,Polly.”

“Don’tIjust.”

Maxhands him a twenty in exchange for the bottle.

“Oh, it’s okay,” he says asGeraldopens a cashbox. “Keepthe change and throw it in the library fund.There’sno better cause than children’s literacy.”

“Let’snot forget this.”Ipick up the wreath atMax’sfeet as he raises the wine bottle in a cheers gesture and guides me away from the table, his hand in the small of my back.

IknowIshould ease away from it, butIfind myself stepping closer and almost tucking myself into his side as we walk away.