The Height Of Happiness

The open house party was beginning on the brick patio outside the event barn. Chrysanthemums of every color decorated the ground in metal basins, and string lights hung around the perimeter of the crowd of people. The lights would come alive at sundown, but for now all in attendance were basking in the afternoon sunshine around cocktail tables fashioned from old wine barrels. As Serena parked the cart carrying her and the photography team, she noticed familiar faces in the crowd. She could see her parents, her best friend Cassie, and several extended family members. Her grandfather she assumed had stayed behind in his own little domain at the inn. He never had been one for parties.

“Serena, darling!” Her mother waved from across the brick-paved expanse. “You look like a vision from Jesus himself!”

Serena’s mother looked nothing like her. Winnifred Beauchene had dark chocolate brown skin and tight thick curls she had locked into braids draped over her shoulder. She had a slim build, but was a tad bit shorter than her daughter. Her petite frame lent itself to the sheath day dress Winnifred now wore that mimicked the look of classic blue Chinese porcelain.

However, their demeanors were much the same. The personality traits Serena had acquired over the years from her mother suited her well in business, even if Winnifred had dedicated her life to being a nurse. Her work in medicine not only gave her a love of clean lines and efficiency that Serena shared, but a penchant for keeping her skin in pristine condition. The skin against the apples of her cheeks glowed, and her hands always felt like they had never completed a day’s work.

Her delicately soft hands were always a hard contrast to her father. A man of the soil and science, he had spent most of his life studying yeast and its effects on beer and bread. His childhood seemed to be a large compilation of foraging and farming stories. After years of studying about the things he questioned as a child, Charlie Beauchene now taught part-time at a university on the other side of the state. Her parents shared a little cottage on the river where Charlie could garden, Winnifred could read, and they both could finally breathe after so many years of chasing something seemingly unattainable.

Serena actually looked like her father, since so many of her features came from his parents. They shared their eyes with her grandmother, Clarabelle. Serena looked into those eyes now as she met her parents to hug them tightly. Her father wore a soft cashmere sweater Serena had never seen the likes of.

“Do you like it?” he asked, looking down at the luxurious plum-colored top. “Your mother got it at some outlet mall when she went shopping with friends. She said it looked nice with my new beard.”

He adjusted his round tortoiseshell glasses and gave his daughter a small smile.

Serena nodded, “You look more like an academic than ever before, Dad.”

Serena felt a kiss on her cheek as her mother’s arms embraced her, “I miss you so much, Serena, baby. You really should come see us more.”

“Well Mom, you retired. Is it not fair to say that you could come visit me?”

Her dad chimed in with, “That’s what we’re doing now Serena. We’re here for a weekend. We had a lovely dinner last night with your grandfather, and tonight we hope to have a lovely dinner with both of you.”

“Where were you yesterday?” Her mother asked as she sipped a glass of lemon water.

“Oh, off getting my hair and nails done,” Serena admitted sheepishly. “I made plans with Cassie long ago, and I hated to break them.”

“No!” Her mother replied, animatedly shaking her head. “We had a glorious time at that darling restaurant, and I took a nice walk around the grounds. Your father and I haven’t done that in so long, and everything seemed new!”

Both her parents laughed, and after another moment of convivial conversation from her mother Serena departed with the promise of having a full meal with them before they left. She wasn’t sure if she would have the time to keep the promise, but it freed her up to greet other guests. She welcomed strangers, sponsors, and other local wine and beer makers she had invited herself. Serena hoped to get a professional and pleasant working relationship with her local competitors from the gesture, and based on their responses her mission would inevitably prove to be successful.

Her feet were getting tired after an hour of playing hostess, but finally she took a moment to speak with the waiters and get two tiny finger sandwiches for her own consumption. Standing at a far table by herself, her parents were too busy conversing with an old family friend from town to keep her company, which Serena was almost thankful for. She liked the quiet moment.

Tasting her own product, she noted the sweetness of the grapes, and wondered what this wine would do in a previously used barrel. She found chocolate in New York affected by the cocoa beans being stored in red wine barrels, and Serena made a mental note do such experimentation with this new harvest. The plot not being used commercially this season would make a wonderful test subject. As she mulled these things over in her mind all by her lonesome, Serena got a surprise she never saw coming.

“I wondered why your name sounded so wonderfully familiar,” Serena heard a voice behind her that she had only heard recently in her favorite dreams.

She turned to let her dark eyes meet that same pair of electric green eyes framed over that roman nose and kissable lips that were turned up in a smile.

“Teddy?” Serena said with shock coursing through her body like a hold of lightning.

 A man his age came up behind him. “I haven’t heard anyone call you that since college, man.”

His eyes were still fixated on her with that same smile on his face that made Serena’s pristine facade unravel. Flustered, she ran her fingers through her bangs before she finally reached out to the blonde boyish man standing next to him.

“I’m Serena Beauchene. Welcome to Belle and Beau.”

The impish one smiled, taking her hand and shaking it in a practiced way before replying, “Hello Serena, it’s delightful to be here. I am Patrick Thompson from Summerfields. This suddenly silent man next to me is Edward Summerfields.”

Serena felt her face fall.

“Edward?” She repeated in almost a whisper.

Every drop of the sudden rush of seeing him again drained out of her and into the ground. If she weren’t already a woman of color, all the color in her face would have vanished. Suddenly speechless, time seemed to slow to a glacial pace as the realization and a need to cry replaced her happiness. However, they were standing in a public garden with roughly fifty other guests around them. Serena knew this was not the place to fall apart, and she was too proud to let him see her pain.