Boring work-type people were gathered in an outdoor dining area lit with small, twinkling lights. The tables were all dressed with large centerpieces and white table linens. It was like a fairy tale, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think Monica was operating some fervent need to be a princess.
It wasn’t hard to guess who the knight was supposed to be. But where was the dragon?
I better not be the dragon!
When the soft bells tinkled for dinner, Krista nearly bowled over a rotund man. She was famished! The man tried to be cross after he stopped tottering around, but she laughed at herself good-naturedly and made an excuse about young people. He walked away shaking his head. Sean would never invite her to one of these again!
Once in her seat she realized that her mark was across the table behind the elaborate centerpiece. It meant she didn’t have to talk to him. Score!
As the bread was showing up and waiters were refilling her glass of wine, she heard, “Is this seat available?”
Krista looked up. The man from earlier was standing beside the empty seat next to her.
She scanned the table. “I’m not sure. I think it’s assigned seating.”
“Yes. This seat was reserved for Jamie Edwards, who is currently in Omaha.”
“Omaha? What would possess a person to go to Omaha?”
The man sat down, immediately moving his hands so a waiter could pour him a glass of wine. “Work. He’s opening a new branch.”
“Huh.”
“I see that you are in a better mood?” The man took a slice of bread.
Krista passed the butter his way, “I am in a better mood; food’s coming. I was getting really hungry there for a minute,” Krista admitted. “I nearly knocked over some high-dollar guest in my panic for some bread.”
The man laughed. “My name’s Tory, by the way.”
“Krista,” she shook his hand briefly.
“I’m sorry—Krista? I thought I heard Kristie?”
Stupid Monica.
“At the bar you mean?”
He nodded with a full mouth.
“Yeah. That was a little joke.”
Krista hoped she wasn’t wearing her emotions on her sleeve, because if she was, Tory would be wondering if a homicide would happen later that evening.
They sat in silence for a minute before he asked, “You said you’re new to the area?”
Krista tried in a hurry to swallow the mouthful of bread she’d just stuck in her mouth. “Yeff.”
She took a gulp of wine with a smile. “Sorry…yes. I’m from Seattle. I’ve lived in San Francisco for a while, but this is my first time to Napa.”
“And you said you were a researcher? Are you long out of college?”
“I am a researcher, yes. And no, not too long. This is my first real job.”
“What was your major?”
“Statistics.”
“Oh? And are you able to apply that knowledge to your job?”
“With my current boss, yes. He gives me a request and stands aside. I give him more information than he knew he wanted, and to do that I step outside the boundaries a little. I can’t do my own field work, but I can apply the knowledge.”
“And you work for Dexico?”
“Yes.”
Krista felt like she was at a job interview or something. Or an interrogation, which was really the same thing with different scare tactics.
He nodded as though that made sense, but his brows were slipping down his nose. “How do you like your job?”
“Well, it isn’t as fun as hair and makeup, which is what I would be doing if I could make a living at it, but it’s good for a grown-up job.”
“What was the presentation on?”
Krista didn’t see the shift of direction coming. Usually people would ask about hair and makeup. That was why she brought it up—it was great for small talk. But then, he wasn’t the standard target for her small talk antics since he probably owned a yacht.
“It was on sports drinks,” she said as she reached for her glass of wine.
“And did you find that interesting? Personally engaging?”
It sounded an awful lot like the ol’ coot was mocking her. He obviously didn’t miss the positive, upbeat undertones in her answer and now he was trying to call her on it. We-ell, little did he know, currently she liked her job, so he could suck it.
“The subject matter?” she asked, ready to battle.
He nodded, his gaze keen.
“No, I’m not especially interested. Although I exercise often, I don’t drink sports drinks. Too sugary. But there is always a part of market research that I find fascinating, no matter the subject.”
“Oh? How so?” While he was being extremely polite and mildly interested, there was an undercurrent of suspicion to his words.
“Well ...it’s like what we’re doing now. We are sitting and talking about our likes and dislikes, right? With market research, it’s a broader scale. I get to see choices people make, whether they make them on their own or because they are goaded into it through marketing, and a wide scale of people’s likes and dislikes. On a bad day, or a boring day, I get to judge people. Absurd, maybe, but you’re looking at people's behavior. It’s like I’m an anthropologist, you know? It’s pretty interesting on the whole, regardless of the subject. That’s how I keep my sanity when I am knee-deep in numbers.”
“Hmmm.”
A bowl of soup materialized at the end of a waiter’s arm. The bowl barely hit the table before she had her spoon dipped in. She moaned in delight as the savory masterpiece hit her tongue. Good stuff!
“I see you’re wearing two tones of jewelry. I thought that was taboo?” Tory asked out of nowhere.
Krista glanced at her hands. She wore a gold ring and bracelets on one hand, and a silver two-ring set on the other. Being that she needed to get more soup in her belly while it was still hot, and also since he was dead wrong, she ignored him for a second. Finally, ready to talk ridiculousness, she laid down her spoon and answered. “If you will excuse me saying it, it was taboo in your day.” She smiled to ease the blow. It was true, but throwing a jokey face made it hurt less.
Thankfully, he wasn’t offended, “How so?”
“I shall tell you, Obi Wan. Back in the day the jewelry was gold. That was the fashion. Gold, gold and more gold. Silver was for people that couldn’t afford gold. Then somewhere along the line platinum came into play. So all these women got platinum wedding sets, right? But platinum looks like silver, gold looks gold.
“So then the poor man bought his wife white gold because it was cheaper than platinum at the time. Not so much anymore with the price of gold, but back then, yes. Or possibly the wife-to-be didn’t buy into the platinum hype, but wanted to keep with fashion.
“Anyway, so then people had platinum, white gold, and silver, which all looked the same. But then they inherited regular gold from their parents or grandparents. And it might have been the wrong color, but you don’t throw away jewelry, I don’t care who you are. You might trade it, or give it to someone—like your daughter—but you don’t chuck precious gems. So now women had all sorts of colors and types of jewelry in their jewelry boxes. See the conundrum?”
Krista checked in on her student to make sure he was still following. He was, and while he seemed fascinated, she got the sneaking suspicion that it was less her words that had him enthralled, and more the science experiment that was unfolding before his eyes. He watched her hands as she gestured, noted when she took a sip of wine—thankfully she was sober enough to refrain from gulping—and even glanced at her shoes. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume the researcher had turned into the researched. He probably wasn’t used to animated poor girls. He was probably also monitoring his wallet at all times.
Undaunted, she forged ahead.
“So a woman is not going to take off her wedding rings just to match jewelry—the husbands would go bonkers. Plus, it is probably her most expensive piece, which then needs to be worn, obviously. But then there was the gold. So it became the fashion to wear both. Then designers started making bracelets and watches that were both, so everything matched again. I am cheating, though. I have gold and silver because I’m not rich and apparently don’t pick my boyfriends all that well.”
Tory stared.
“Didn’t think I’d make it to the end of that lecture, huh?” Krista laughed, going back to her food.
Tory leaned back slightly and smiled. “You’ve thought a lot about that topic.”
The salad had come by this point and she speared a piece of lettuce. “Not really, no. I hate being wrong, so I can make up a great argument on the fly. But all that is common knowledge to a woman. It’s explaining it to a man that gets sticky.”
Tory’s smile grew. “You have a sapphire ring. Self-bought, or did you get it from one of your boyfriends?”
Krista was mid-bite again. She chewed furiously until she tasted the symphony of the dressing and the blood orange.
“Hmmm,” she said, slowing down. She pointed at her salad with her fork, rolled her eyes in ecstasy, and ignored him again. You just didn’t get in the way of a hungry woman, bottom line.
When she was finally done, she said, “That’s good stuff. Anyway, I have issues with picking the right boyfriend, so no. Dare to dream. No, this was my Nana’s. She loved gems. She loved to dress up. She would put on her best dress and her jewelry and make my grandpa take her somewhere nice. He gave her a lot of jewelry over the years, but I only got this one piece.”
“Why is that?” Tory had dropped his scrutiny, and now seemed genuinely interested.
Krista thought a minute, eating another forkful of salad. She got a little sentimental when she talked about her Nana. She was a riot of a lady. Krista missed her dearly.
The old dude probably picked up on that because he gave her the minute she needed to organize her thoughts.
“Well, she had two girls and a boy,” Krista continued. “The boy was my dad. Men are great at broad strokes, and he took care of the estate like a pro, but just like a man, he missed a lot of the details. His sisters made off with all the jewelry and porcelain and silver and all the little commodities that add up. This was overlooked.” She nodded to her ring.
“May I see it?”
Krista held out her hand for inspection.
“The design is a work of art in and of itself. Beautifully cut gem, too.” Tory leaned away.
“Oh, do you know jewelry?”
Krista got a moment of extreme anxiety. If he knew sapphires she quite possibly had been blabbing to the elusive client, which would be bad.
He interrupted her thoughts of suicide with, “My wife makes me buy her jewelry just like your grandmother. I’ve learned.”
Krista relaxed. “Yes, I love it. My grandpa had good taste.”
“So if you got a chance to research about jewelry, you would probably have a vested interest?”
The scare still rattling through her brain, she had the presence of mind not to mention that she was now a pro at jewelry, statistically speaking.
“Um …not really. Well, maybe…” She sat and thought about it for a minute. “I guess it would be interesting to see where I fit in the scheme of things, but it really goes right back to learning about the larger group of people, which is fascinating in and of itself. So I wouldn’t have any more of a vested interest than if I were doing the sports drink, although I would have more ideas.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, okay, you see a lot of older people with gems, but not as many people my age, right? People my age are wearing ugly, cheap jewelry mostly, unless we get an heirloom. But then, that’s only cool when you dress up.”
He nodded and said, “But as you said, your generation, currently, doesn’t have money. You are what, twenty-one?”
“Twenty-five actually. True, we don’t, but we are also idiots with credit. I’ve already learned my lesson, kinda, but many people my age are still stupid with money. Take my friend Jasmine. She just bought a Louis Vuitton handbag. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
“Okay, well she bought a $1200 handbag because it was high fashion and because it had status and because people would be envious. The bag isn’t all that cute, really. But it is an LV, so there you go. Could she afford it? No way! It’s more than a month’s rent. And she has no money. But she has a credit card. Hence stupid decision and new expensive handbag. That bag will last five years probably, and then it’s just money wasted.”
“Okay, but how does that relate?”
“Don’t you see?” She was getting animated now. “If jewelry, which is more affordable then a $1200 handbag, and lasts way longer, was more in fashion and was pushed on younger people, they would buy it. It wouldn’t matter if they could afford it or not.” He still looked skeptical. Her debater mode set in; he would see it her way—she could argue the cross off a nun when she got going.
“You see, older people have the money, but they also have more to buy, and they also have more self-control. Do they really need that sapphire ring? No, because they have a kid, or a house, or a new car. They responsibly say no. A girl my age? We don’t have squat. No reason not to buy it, no reason to learn responsibility until we have a child, and nothing else to spend our money on. So why not?”
“You don’t buy it because you don’t have the means.”
“A lesson we will learn when the collectors start calling. And trust me, that won’t happen until way after you’ve stuck your foot in it, but look fabulous for your trouble. I didn’t have the means for this dress, but could I say no to looking this good? What are credit cards for, if not buying things above your means?” She laughed and took a sip of wine. Point proven.