The Height Of Happiness

Serena didn’t need a life of perfection. She didn’t expect it, but as people started asking her about what her family plans were… Serena had to figure out an answer for those questions. Her stranger Teddy also added a mix of indecision to her inner turmoil. If he had been her shot at happiness, could she find him again? Or rather, could she find him before it was too late? Serena knew she needed to stop dreaming of a love life and get her act together. Her actions had been focused on her business for so long. It was time for a change.

If all went well this weekend, then Serena would take it as a sign from her guardian angels that she could set aside pushing the winery forward and work on another aspect of her life. She would find someone to share her devotion to this place, and maybe one day have children she could trust with her life’s work and allow her to leave this earth with peace in her heart.

It seemed like such a macabre and solemn topic for a vibrant woman in her twenties to obsess over, but Serena couldn’t change who she was. She could only move forward with this knowledge in her heart.

As she made one last bend around the hillside she came to her home, glowing like an ember on a cold night. The historic farmhouse was a fresh cool white and inside the lights her grandfather had left on for her glowed a soft shade of sunshine yellow between the many coal black shutters. Serena could see her fat orange cat named Charlemagne as he slept in one of the wicker chairs on the porch that wrapped around the whole first floor. The front double doors were a dark green, matching the many leaves of her potted plants and adding color to the neutral exterior.

Serena knew every oak floorboard with their soft creaks. She knew the sound of the water heater under the stairs. The slow turning fans in the open living room and the way to get a spot out of the butcher block counters her family had installed when she was a toddler. This place was as familiar to her as her own body. It seemed insane for it to be anything else. It was the home she was raised in, she’d taken her first steps on the yard she crossed now. Serena remembered all the birthday parties and Christmas lights on the white porch columns. She remembered the little dogs her grandmother kept now respectfully buried somewhere among the trees. Her first kiss and her first heartbreak all happened here.

After so many years of the house loving her, Serena now loved that house in return as its caretaker. Her grandfather signed it over to her as a graduation present from college, and ever since she’d spent her time toiling over that house, only second to the time she spent on the vineyard. Through her updating Serena realized that she had an eye for craftsmanship and well-made items. Serena found herself attracted to classic and durable things. Nothing within the house could be found in a mainstream store. Everything was one-of-a-kind or flea market finds.

Not only did the house have even more sentiment as she put herself into the home that raised her, but it gave her a thrill of the chase. Serena had realized the bargaining with antique shop staff and hunting down the perfect bar cart she had once admired in a design magazine felt good. That push for growth reflected in the business, but the same could be said for the art on the walls, the clothes in the bedroom upstairs, and the few pieces of jewelry she kept in a silver box on her vanity. At a young age, Serena had become bored with trendy and mass-market superstores that her friends loved. She found herself happily browsing, but saving her own money to buy jeans and quality cotton t-shirts that would last her past the current season.

Serena put her bag down on the bench in the foyer as she walked through the living room. The house had been given a good cleaning, which meant the housekeeping staff had been sent over that afternoon to surprise her. She could see her towels and bed sheets billowing the late summer air, the crisp blue pinstripes on her favorite jersey sheets curving and waving as the fabric dried. At the long dining table her grandfather once built as a young man for his new wife, Serena found he had also crafted a quick note for her.

Serena, I wanted to surprise you since you have been working so hard this season and had been letting the dust collect on your tables. Helen and I did the cleaning, and we’ve left a pot of chili on the stove for you. Cornbread is in the oven. Enjoy. Love, Grandpa

Serena shook her head, smiling. Helen, the head housekeeper, had cleaned her house from top to bottom. Her grandfather had made his famous chili. It didn’t seem like an equal distribution of work, but Serena noted to herself that her appreciation would finds its way into Helen’s holiday bonus. Sure enough as she walked into the warm kitchen it smelled of buttered cornbread and slow-cooked heavenly goodness. Fishing through the powder blue cabinets that she had painted herself the spring before, Serena found a bowl for her dinner as she let the gas flames warm the chili back up.

Soon enough, Serena was walking back out onto the porch with a radio, her tablet, and a tray with chili, cornbread with honey butter, and a tall glass of sweet iced tea. She kicked off her shoes and looked over the paperwork for tomorrow’s events as she ate. As the cat transitioned from his singular chair to sitting beside her on the loveseat in hopes of getting some attention, every vendor’s confirmation was triple checked. Emails were poured through as the dinner dwindled to nothing, and as she sipped the remains of her tea Serena looked at the VIP guest list one last time. Even though Serena wasn’t one to get nervous, the last name on the list put a bad feeling in her bones.

Edward Summerfields, much like Serena, was seemingly too young of a professional for this game. To be managing his family’s international wine business after getting his undergraduate and graduate degree and one ivy league school or another, he had quickly been labeled a golden boy. It helped that his mother came with a wealth of her own when she took over her husband’s company, and now she used her portion of the billion bucks in the bank to retire on some sunny spot on the Northern California coast.

Her son was using his cut of that fortune to make a name for himself among supermodels and making small winery owners like Serena very nervous, while at the same time growing his family’s company to some of the greatest profits in the history of Summerfields Wines. Everyone in industry publications wondered what they were going to be doing with those extra millions lying around. Serena hoped it would be something silly like an island in the South Pacific, but having him and two other executives on her little patch of grass worried Serena into thinking that they wanted to actually spend that money on the business.

They wanted to use some of that money on her.