{"id":9374,"date":"2021-02-03T14:57:00","date_gmt":"2021-02-03T20:57:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?p=9374"},"modified":"2021-03-16T18:37:03","modified_gmt":"2021-03-16T23:37:03","slug":"red-like-wine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/red-like-wine\/","title":{"rendered":"Red Like Wine"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><a href=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/red-like-wine\/\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"560\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2-1024x560.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-9403\" srcset=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2-1024x560.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2-300x164.jpg 300w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2-768x420.jpg 768w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2-370x202.jpg 370w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2-770x421.jpg 770w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-2.jpg 1170w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"Red-Wine\">Original Fiction<\/h3>\n\n\n\n<h1 class=\"has-text-align-center wp-block-heading\" id=\"Red-Wine\"><strong>Patricia Crisafulli<\/strong><\/h1>\n\n\n\n<!--more-->\n\n\n\n<p><em>Author\u2019s Note: \u201cRed, Like Wine\u201d is a rewrite of a story I wrote years ago\u2014revisiting a favorite theme of taking a chance on people and creating community\u2014even family\u2014out of those we barely know.&nbsp;<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em><strong>June 2020<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Katherine reached all the way to the back of the closet, past summer clothes swinging on hangers in the front and beyond the winter wardrobe that waited its turn for a seasonal rotation. In the depths, where the boards still smelled like cedar, hung the things she never wore but couldn\u2019t give away or discard. Feeling the plush of velvet, she pulled it toward the light to see that blaze of color: red, like wine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That\u2019s where it had all started.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em><strong>March 1988<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Somewhere between the leftover Valentine\u2019s Day candy and the new Easter cards, forty-one-year-old Katherine realized she had no life. Other than the treadmill of stocking shelves at the pharmacy, she had little to mark each lap around the calendar.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Five years ago, when her elderly parents became ill, she\u2019d taken a leave of absence from her HR job in Rhode Island and told her boyfriend of six years that she was going to be gone for a little while. Then her leave of absence became a resignation, and her boyfriend moved in with someone else.&nbsp;Her father had died, and her mother as well, two years later. And she had stayed, increasing the population of Anders Mills, New York, at the edge of the Adirondack Mountains, by 0.029% (she\u2019d actually done the math) to 3,429 year-round residents.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;At quarter-to-six that evening, Katherine crept home from the pharmacy along sidewalks that were starting to glaze with frozen rivulets from the snow melt. As she ate dinner in the living room with the TV for company, Katherine contemplated the beige walls, wondering how they would look in yellow. Setting her plate aside, she plucked brown leaves from a potted ivy and gathered two weeks\u2019 worth of newspapers and deposited them in a box in the garage for the paper drive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Getting out a stepladder, she climbed to the top of the kitchen cupboards, beholding a meadow of dust. Inside the deep cupboard over the refrigerator sat a large porcelain soup tureen with a lid. She should show it to Dobey one of these days; it looked like the pricey antiques he carried in his shop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Behind the tureen rested a bright red fondue pot. As she fondled the little metal skewers with carved wooden handles, Katherine couldn\u2019t fathom her parents owning, let alone using, this set. Beside it, she found four bottles of wine on their sides. She examined one, reading the label:&nbsp;<em>Chateau Elise, 1981, Fine French Claret.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She set the bottles on the counter, suspecting that the wine had probably soured to vinegar. She would dump them out in the morning. But as Katherine snapped off the kitchen light, the glow from the living room reached all the way to the smooth glass bottles and the liquid inside that looked as dark and mysterious as a magic elixir.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"200\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art-e1608497702946.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Two days later, Katherine drove the 20 miles to the big grocery store in Saranac Lake. Carrying a fondue recipe, she searched the wide aisles for the ingredients: gruyere, fontina, gouda, dry white wine, Dijon mustard\u2026.&nbsp;&nbsp;As soon as she got home, Katherine called Nelly. \u201cI\u2019m having a party\u2014a fondue party. Two weeks from Saturday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cI\u2019ll make cheesecake,\u201d Nelly said excitedly. \u201cEverybody likes cheesecake\u2014especially Chet, and that will get him to come. Not that he wouldn\u2019t come, just for you, but he really loves cheesecake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As Nelly talked on and on, Katherine looked through the archway into the dining room she never used, at the old dark-wood table with clawed feet that had scared her as a small child. Now, the ten straight-backed chairs petrified her. How could she ever fill them?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;She called and left messages, but a lot of phones were still disconnected; snowbirds gone for the season. Peggy who worked part-time as a pharmacy clerk said she and her husband could come and asked if she could bring her sister, Gwen, who\u2019d just had foot surgery and might want to get out of the house.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The next day, Katherine pushed herself into Sharon\u2019s Gifts and Souvenirs. Sharon wouldn\u2019t open for the season until Memorial Day Weekend but had been getting some work done on the place. She and Sharon had never said more than good morning to each other or commented on the weather, so the invitation came as a surprise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sharon\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cWhy not? We have nothing else to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Enthusiastic or not, Sharon and her husband made eight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Nelly called that evening to discuss whether she should make blueberry or apricot cheesecake. \u201cYou need single men,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cWhy? Besides, I don\u2019t know any.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cOscar,\u201d Nelly said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Everybody knew Oscar, the mail carrier. He had always been kind to her parents and had stopped to see them from time to time. But asking him seemed desperate. \u201cWhat about Dobey?\u201d Katherine had been thinking about him ever since she came across the soup tureen.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cSure, I guess Dobey would come,\u201d Nelly agreed. \u201cInvite them both. Then we\u2019ll be ten.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Two mornings later, while walking to the pharmacy, Katherine saw Oscar and flagged him down. In his blue-gray uniform, he looked even taller and lankier, and of undetermined age.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine looked down the street just as a school bus rumbled through the next intersection. \u201cI\u2019m having a dinner party\u2014week from Saturday. Can you come?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oscar pushed back the bill of his cap. \u201cGuess so. Not much on the calendar.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cOkay fine. See you then\u2014seven o\u2019clock.\u201d Katherine resumed walking toward the pharmacy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cShall I wear my tuxedo?\u201d he called out to her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cVery funny,\u201d she said, without looking back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the next block, Katherine spied a sedan parked in the alley beside Forever Antiques. She needed to get to the pharmacy in six minutes but didn\u2019t want to waste this opportunity or her nerve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dobey pushed through the curtains from the back room like he was walking onto a stage. He was neatly dressed in a light-blue denim shirt and khakis, with a turquoise bolo tie. \u201cKatherine Fredericks! To what do I owe this honor?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cI\u2019m uh\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re looking at the bolo, right? I\u2019m in my New Mexico uniform today. The sky looked all Georgia O\u2019Keefe.\u201d He winked. \u201cPlus I just don\u2019t give a damn. That\u2019s the advantage of being over fifty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Feeling encouraged, Katherine invited him to the dinner party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cOf course, Katherine dear,\u201d Dobey said. \u201cYou know I\u2019ve been meaning to invite&nbsp;<em>you&nbsp;<\/em>over for drinks. See if I could talk you out of that dining room table.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine felt a flush from her shoulders to her hairline. \u201cIt\u2019s casual. Fondue. Nelly is making cheesecake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dobey made a face. \u201cOh, give us a reason to get out of the flannels. Let\u2019s all dress up a little.\u201d He checked his watch. \u201cI have to take off\u2014somebody in Lake Placid thinks they found Audubon prints in their attic. Why don\u2019t you come by the shop Friday night, after closing. We can have a drink and discuss your party.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"200\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art-e1608497702946.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine stepped through the open door of Forever Antiques on Friday night, but Dobey was nowhere in sight. After yelling \u201chello\u201d from the entrance, she wandered through antique furniture and paused at a round table set with crystal glassware and china ringed with roses.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cKatherine!\u201d Dobey sang out. He brought with him a large dress box with Bergdorf Goodman written in script on the lid. \u201cThis is for later.\u201d He smiled. \u201cLet\u2019s have a glass of wine first. Red okay with you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dobey talked nonstop, one story after the other. Finally, he interrupted himself and lifted the lid of the Bergdorf box, peeling back tissue paper to reveal wine-red crushed velvet.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cWhoever owned it was tall, like you,\u201d Dobey said. \u201cTry it on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the musty storeroom in the back, Katherine stepped into the dress. Emerging from the little room into the store, she headed toward a large mirror. \u201cIt\u2019s awfully fan\u2014\u201d Katherine caught her reflection and never finished the word.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Dobey motioned with his hand for her to turn around. As she did, a little fishtail train swirled. \u201cYou look radiant,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There had been a \u201cMrs. Dobey\u201d once, or so Katherine had heard. All Dobey ever said about it was \u201cwe put each out of our misery ages ago.\u201d During the summer months, Katherine saw Dobey having lunch with women who were clearly from out of town and probably the backbone of his business. That\u2019s all she knew about his private life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cYou must have it\u2014my gift.\u201d&nbsp;&nbsp;Dobey held up his hand, silencing all protests. \u201cIt\u2019s perfect for your party.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"200\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art-e1608497702946.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On Saturday evening, Nelly arrived early in a black dress and a strand of fake pearls. She capped her short, curly gray hair with a cardboard-and-glitter tiara she\u2019d made herself. \u201cThought it made me look like a duchess. Holy cow\u2014what a dress! Dobey gave you that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine pirouetted. \u201cUh-huh. Told me I looked amazing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Behind Nelly, Chet stood in the doorway, wearing dark slacks, a turtleneck, and a sport coat, and holding a box with two cheesecakes. Katherine ushered him in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the kitchen, she and Nelly double-checked on the fondue prep and fussed over the trays of canapes. Chet appeared, holding a glass of deep red wine. \u201cThis is good. Never had claret before.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cI was afraid it was halfway to vinegar. I was going to throw it out.\u201d Katherine sniffed then sipped from the glass Chet handed to her. Pursing her lips, she dissected the flavors\u2014blackberry and something nutty. Almond maybe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The other guests arrived, dressed for the occasion: Sharon and her husband, Donald; Peggy from the pharmacy with her husband, Bill, and her sister, Gwen, who wore a long skirt despite a walking cast on one foot and a sneaker on the other. Ten minutes later, Dobey swept in with a bouquet of flowers and a light kiss for Katherine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sharon made her way over to him. \u201cHaven\u2019t seen you since the chamber of commerce Christmas lunch. What\u2019s new?\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cEverything!\u201d Dobey announced. \u201cBusiness is good. Life is good\u2014and I\u2019m in love.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine gasped, then smiled quickly to cover up the sound.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cMet him on a trip to New York in January. He\u2019s coming in two weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine stopped listening, and the light in the room seemed to dim. If only she could go upstairs and put on her bathrobe.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A hand touched her arm; it was Nelly. Katherine followed her into the kitchen but couldn\u2019t think of what needed to be done. When the doorbell rang again, she didn\u2019t make a move. \u201cI can\u2019t do this,\u201d Katherine whispered. \u201cI\u2019ve made a terrible fool out of myself. I thought\u2014no, I wanted to think\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Nelly, who was a good six inches shorter, pulled Katherine close. \u201cHear that? Everybody\u2019s laughing and talking. Your party is a success. Dobey does like you\u2014just not, you know, in that way. And you do look amazing in this gown.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Nelly planted a hand against Katherine\u2019s back and gave her an encouraging push. As she carried in the fondue pot and set it on chafing stand in the center of the table, Katherine saw an unfamiliar man in the far corner of the living room talking with Chet and Bill. He was clean-shaven and combed his hair straight back; he wore a tuxedo. Then the man spoke. \u201cSorry I was late, Katherine. Had to work today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cMy goodness, Oscar. I didn\u2019t recognize you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cStarted to trim my whiskers and then\u2014zip\u2014off they came.\u201d Oscar rubbed his chin. \u201cCome Monday, people are gonna think they got a new mailman.\u201d He raised his glass of claret to her. \u201cChange is good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine slipped into the last chair at the head of the table, where her father had always sat. When she opened her mouth to thank her guests for coming, the words uncorked and poured out. \u201cI couldn\u2019t bear it\u2014the house, I mean\u2014big and empty. I knew if I didn\u2019t do something, I\u2019d lose my mind. So, I decided to have this party\u2026\u201d It was a terrible thing to say, she scolded herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Gwen spoke up. \u201cNo, Katherine. Thank&nbsp;<em>you<\/em>. I know exactly what you mean. Between the cold and this foot cast, I felt like a prisoner. I couldn\u2019t wait for tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sharon nodded vigorously. \u201cWhen you said formal, I went out and bought this dress.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cThis is my brother\u2019s tux,\u201d Oscar piped up. \u201cHe plays in a band. They do a lot of weddings. When I asked to borrow it, he said I must be going to a prom.\u201d&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine looked down the table: every chair filled, china and silver used again. Imagining the lady who\u2019d first worn the red velvet dress, she stood to give a toast. \u201cHere\u2019s to us. To the life we have and the life we\u2019re making out of what remains.\u201d She raised the claret to her lips and drank it in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"200\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art-e1608497702946.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><strong><em>June 2020<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cMom?\u201d Genevieve, her thirty-year-old daughter, stood in the bedroom doorway. \u201cDidn\u2019t you hear me calling you downstairs?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine registered the slight worry in her voice. \u201cI was just digging in this closet.\u201d She glanced toward the bed where no more than six pieces of clothing had been extracted for a donation pile. They weren\u2019t moving, not yet\u2014but lightening the load, Katherine had to agree, made sense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cWhere\u2019s Dad?\u201d Genevieve asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\u201cHe was in the basement, supposedly cleaning things out. Then went to the hardware store for a light socket or some such thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Katherine linked her arm through her daughter\u2019s. \u201cI\u2019m so glad to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Genevieve wrinkled her nose and laughed. \u201cI\u2019m here, what, three times a week?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Her daughter didn\u2019t fully understand the meaning, Katherine knew, and maybe wouldn\u2019t until she had her own child one day.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The sound of the back door attracted the attention of both women and they descended the stairs together. At the counter, just taking off his coat, was Oscar\u2014tall and clean-shaven, just like the night of the dinner party, thirty-three years ago.&nbsp;Sometimes they joked, she and Oscar, that they had fallen in love with the dressed-up versions of themselves. But over the years, Katherine decided they had seen their true selves that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Oscar, the kind-hearted, dependable mailman, had the soul of an artist. Katherine loved marking the change of seasons, not just with displays at the pharmacy, but with holiday-themed dinner parties. Together, they turned an old house into a home- thanks to unexpected love, a child born later in their lives, good friends, and a dress she wore only once but never forgot. Red, like wine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"aligncenter size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"200\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/free-online-fiction-poetry-art-e1608497702946.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5712\"\/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator is-style-wide\"\/>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"560\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1-1024x560.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-9399\" srcset=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1-1024x560.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1-300x164.jpg 300w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1-768x420.jpg 768w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1-370x202.jpg 370w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1-770x421.jpg 770w, https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/red-like-wine-tricia-photograph-1.jpg 1170w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Original Fiction Patricia Crisafulli<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,18,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9374","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-patricia-crisafulli","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v15.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Red Like Wine | Faith Hope &amp; 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