White Jacket Required (21 page)

I had done my homework on everyone before I came, and after staring at Facebook pictures for so long, I felt like I already knew them. We were all about the same age, except for James, who was my parents' age and seemed like the loner of the group. Most of all, I clicked almost immediately with Adam, a 26-year-old guy from Austin, Texas, with blond hair, hazel eyes, and an open, laid-back demeanor. He was the one I'd been most eager to meet because we'd appeared to have the most in common.

After briefly chatting with everyone, I headed up to my room to take a shower and freshen up for the big opening-night dinner. My luxurious hotel room featured a huge king-size bed, hardwood floors, a balcony, and a bathroom with quite possibly the largest hotel tub I had ever seen, complete with spa products and a bath pillow. There was a basket on the bed with my name on it containing a bottle of Chardonnay (ironically), a map of Healdsburg, and a letter from Greg, the winemaker at Murphy-Goode, welcoming us.

The initial giddiness I'd felt in the airport was quickly turning into exhaustion, and I could feel my eyelids beginning to droop. In my room, I threw open the door to my private balcony and took deep, grounding breaths of fresh air, filling my lungs with this place. For months I had sat stagnant, grief and depression weighing down on me, but now, as I drank in that sweet California breeze, I felt lighter.

Around 6:30 p.m. I walked across the street to the Murphy-Goode tasting room for dinner. I had butterflies in my stomach and desperately needed a glass of wine. The entire group was already there, sipping red wine and exchanging casual introductions. I gratefully accepted a glass of Merlot from the bartender and made my way into the circle.

I could already tell that Carrie and I would be good friends based on what I knew about her from some preliminary Facebook research. She was fun and outgoing, with beautiful Hawaiian features. We both were runners, and she reminded me of my group of friends from high school. Our conversation flowed easily. Julia, the only other woman in the group, was a bit harder to connect with. A trim blonde hailing from Los Angeles, she had a preternatural tan and a dominating personality, all theatrics and humor. Julia had previously had a TV show on Animal Planet. She was the type of woman I always envied—the kind who could work a crowd and make jokes, unafraid of making a fool of herself.

The other applicants—Rich, Casey, Mark, and David—were talking amongst themselves in the corner of the tasting room. I had some preconceived notions about Casey based on his goofy application video, but I didn't really know what to think of Rich, Mark, or David. They all seemed nice but were the most reserved of the group so far, and I wondered what their stories were.

Out of everyone, I still found myself drawn to Adam the most. He had a gentle manner and a soft accent that reminded me of home, and the way he looked at me brought on a new feeling that I couldn't really describe. For the past three and a half years I had never looked twice at another guy and considered myself a fiercely loyal girlfriend. I couldn't quite identify it, but there was something about Adam that drew me in and made me feel like I had known him for years, and we had yet to even have a real conversation. Of course, we both had significant others at home and certainly weren't looking to start anything new, especially not here in these seemingly bizarre circumstances. More than anything, Adam just seemed like someone I wanted to get to know, and I was glad this interview had brought us to the same place at the same time.

While we ate, wine and conversation flowed freely. After everyone had chatted for a bit, one of the owners of the winery asked each of us to introduce ourselves with a two-minute speech. As I watched the other applicants step forward and speak of their many accomplishments, I realized what an extreme privilege it was to be among such a talented group of people. The application video that had gotten me this far was really nothing special compared to the highly advanced multimedia presentations used by my new friends, and I felt self-conscious.

I dreaded my speech and took a few long sips of red wine. Finally, when my name was called (last), I made my way to the front of the room, anxiously wiping my sweaty palms on my pale blue dress. I joked around a bit to start, and then, after my nerves calmed down a little bit, talked about the sorrow of the past couple months, my need to escape Florida, and how social media and my blog had helped me cope with the grief.

“I made the decision on the day that my little brother died to live each day to the absolute fullest and never take anything for granted again,” I said in conclusion. “You only get one chance at life, and I want to live without regrets, doing what I love. Life is way too short to do something you aren't passionate about.”

Even though we all had just met only a few hours before, I felt like I truly connected with this group of people. It seemed like life had brought us together for a bigger purpose than a job interview. The atmosphere in the room relaxed after all the introductions were out of the way, and Greg, the winemaker, stepped forward to read out the “teams” for the weekend.

If I ever had any preconceived idea of what winemakers were like, Greg totally blew them all out of the water. He was young, probably in his mid-thirties, with facial hair and the solid build of a football player. He was wearing a T-shirt, faded jeans, and cowboy boots. Everything that came out of his mouth was hysterical, and I found myself not terribly surprised when he casually threw in that he used to follow the Grateful Dead.

I was placed on a team with Adam. We immediately started plotting what we would serve the group, since we both loved to cook. The rest of the team—Julia, David, and James—seemed less than enthusiastic.

After the last bit of wine was drained from the bottles, Greg said, “I don't know what you guys are doing, but I'm headed next door to the bar. It would probably be a good idea for everyone to follow!” My body still felt shocked from the time change, and my head was feeling a little fuzzy from all the wine, but I knew I couldn't be the only one to call it a night.

“You look tired,” Adam said as we walked across the street to the Healdsburg Bar and Grill for late-night bocce ball and pitchers of beer. The temperature outside had dropped alarmingly, and I wished I had thought to bring my sweater, but it had been well over ninety degrees when I walked across the street for dinner.

“Yeah, I'm exhausted. This is my first time to the West Coast, and I'm feeling the effects of jet lag right now.”

“I'm beat, too, and I actually feel like I'm getting sick, so I don't really want to stay out that long,” he said. “How 'bout we just stay for two games and then walk back to the hotel?” I was grateful for someone to walk back with so I didn't have to feel lame going home early by myself.

“Sounds good. I could use a good night's sleep tonight. I woke up this morning at 3:30 a.m. California time to catch my plane.” I looked at my watch and realized that that was almost 24 hours ago. Exhaustion hit me like a ton of bricks.

For the next hour, I mustered enough energy to keep up with the group. Two rounds of bocce ball later, Adam and I looked at each other and he nodded.

“So, you're from Tampa,” Adam said as we walked back across the street.

“Well, not originally. I grew up in a really small town on the east coast of Florida . . . but I'm sure you never have heard of it. Vero Beach?”

Adam shook his head. “I'm sure you've never heard of my hometown either. It's a very small town in East Texas that has a population of only about five hundred. I bet that beats Vero!”

I laughed and wondered how it was that already I felt so comfortable with this almost-total stranger. Conversation came easily, and nothing felt awkward or forced. “You're right . . . you win. Vero is pretty small, though. I like to refer to it fondly as a retirement community. We get a ton of snowbirds there.” By this time we had reached the hotel and were at the door to my room.

“Well, good night. I guess I'll see you in the morning then,” Adam said as I turned to open the door to my room.

“Good night! Hope you feel better!” I responded and closed the door behind me, taking it all in. I came to California with no prior expectations because this whole experience was just so out of the ordinary, but now I couldn't help but think about what was going to happen the rest of the weekend, and my thoughts raced.

I didn't sleep at all. The bed was the most comfortable I had ever been on, and the sheets were smooth as spun silk, but all night long I tossed and turned. Finally, around six o'clock, I got up and stumbled in an exhausted daze to the shower. I was due at the tasting room in an hour, and from there we were going to head up to Alexander Mountain as a group to learn more about the grapes and the vineyard. After that, we would have lunch and an afternoon activity, followed by dinner and games. Tonight wasn't my group's turn to make dinner, and I looked forward to just relaxing and getting to know everyone better.

Downstairs I ran into James sitting by himself with a cup of coffee.

“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked as I gestured to the empty chair across from him.

“Nope, feel free.” he said, putting his paper down. “Last night was crazy, huh? I think I'm a little too old for this group!” James was turning fifty but appeared to be ten years younger, with a pierced ear and facial hair. We made small talk for the next five minutes or so before he stood up and excused himself. It was almost as if he was uncomfortable sitting with me, and I felt a little unsettled after he left, wondering if I had said something wrong.

The breakfast buffet at the hotel was set up with a huge spread, and I filled my bowl with creamy plain yogurt and topped it with golden granola and a few pieces of juicy pineapple. The granola was amazingly rich, almost as though the individual flakes of oat had been pan-fried in coconut oil. It had an abundance of cinnamon and honey, and big pieces of crunchy almonds topped off the whole thing. I wondered briefly if I could purchase this granola at the front desk; I had never tasted anything quite as good in Florida.

I never was able to find that granola, but with a little effort in the kitchen back home, I created my own version that is
almost
as good.

Golden Granola

Makes about 8 cups

I like to use lots of nuts in this, but feel free to substitute whatever you like for your own variation. This granola will keep for about three weeks in a sealed plastic container in the fridge, making it a quick and easy breakfast when topped with thick yogurt and banana slices.

1 cup maple syrup or honey

3 tablespoons coconut oil

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups old-fashioned oats

½ cup chopped hazelnuts

½ cup unsalted sunflower seeds

½ cup slivered almonds

2 teaspoons cinnamon

Sprinkle of sea salt

Preheat the oven to 325°F and grease a large baking sheet.

In a small saucepan, combine the maple syrup (or honey) and coconut oil and bring to a simmer over low heat. Simmer for about 4 minutes, stirring constantly (do not splash). Remove the pan from the heat, stir in the vanilla extract, and set aside.

In a big bowl, stir together the oats, hazelnuts, sunflower seeds, almonds, cinnamon, and sea salt. Drizzle with the hot syrup and stir well to coat.

Spread granola mixture evenly on prepared baking sheet and bake, stirring frequently, until the granola has turned a golden color, about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool.

Store the granola in sealed plastic containers in the refrigerator for up to 3 weeks.

22
STRANGE ELECTRICITY

T
HE REST OF THE DAY WAS SPENT GOING NONSTOP. I
ignored my exhaustion and started to run on pure adrenaline as we hiked to the top of Alexander Mountain, drank Merlot from paper cups, and stared at the valley below. The views were breathtaking and unlike anything I had ever seen before in the South. After a lunch of grilled eggplant sandwiches on chewy foccacia bread, I made my way back upstairs to my room to lie down for an hour before our late-afternoon activity began. We were assigned to pour wine in the tasting room for guests, presumably a task aimed at assessing our people skills.

Indeed, the tasting room was filled with people when I arrived. I found one of the staff members and asked where I would be stationed. She ushered me to the back of the room and told me that Adam and I were to pour Merlot together for the next two hours.

“Hey!” Adam called out as I got myself situated behind the counter. “Looks like it's you and me again.”

I laughed. “Yep, they must think we work well together or something. So what exactly are we supposed to be doing? Just pouring and mingling with people?”

“Yeah, we're going to meet a bunch of people,” he said. “I hope you don't mind that I'm live-streaming this on the website I made for the trip—I thought it would be cool to show us actually ‘working.'” Then his tone grew more serious. “I know this isn't the best time to talk about this, but I also wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your brother. I read about him online. What a terrible tragedy.” He looked down at the tattoo on my wrist. “I love your tattoo.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It's been really hard, but I just try to stay busy . . . ” I let myself trail off. “It's hard to explain.”

“Tell me about it. My girlfriend passed away a few years ago. I know it's not the same as a sibling, but I sort of know how you feel. It sucks.” Adam's voice was sincere and he looked me straight in the eyes.

“Gosh, I'm sorry. I had no idea. I can imagine. But you're right; I guess you do sort of know how I feel. It's hard to explain to someone who's never lost anyone close to them.” I looked away because I felt like at any moment I might start to cry.