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“Oak? And fruit?”
    “What kind?” Again Jac’s voice wasn’t at all intimidating, more like an encouraging teacher.
    “Um, blackberry?”
    Jac nodded and twirled her fingers to indicate Liz should continue.
    “Something kind of smoky.” She sipped again. “Herbs? And something chocolaty?”
    “Good.” Jac poured another glass. Holding the stem between thumb and two fingers, she brought the glass to her lips and rested her nose just over the rim, inhaling deeply. She swirled the wine and inhaled again. A smile curled the corners of her mouth before spreading up her cheeks. “Too easy.” She held the glass up in Roger’s direction. “Joseph Phelps. Backus Vineyard Cab. 1999.” Jac enunciated each word with reverence, as someone might recite a favorite passage from Scripture.
    “Show-off.” Peggy went to the house and returned with a glass of beer.
    Roger looked up from laying the vegetables on the grill. He shook his head, but he was smiling.
    Liz read the label on the bottle. Exactly right. “How—”
    “Practice. Like doing scales.” Jac put the glass against her lower lip and tilted it so the wine slid obediently into her mouth. She held it for a moment before swallowing, that same slow smile making her face even more beautiful.
    Mesmerized by the casual sensuality of the gesture, Liz let out a long breath.
    “Sometimes a hundred-dollar bottle of wine really is better than a ten-dollar bottle.”
    Liz almost choked on the sip she’d just taken. “I thought you said yesterday wine was as simple as drinking what you like. Something about a ten-dollar bottle being as good as a fifty?” She regretted the flip comment when Jac tilted her head and stared at her with that raised eyebrow.
    “That doesn’t mean you can’t like a hundred-dollar bottle of wine better than a ten-dollar bottle.”
    “This isn’t a hundred-dollar bottle of wine.” Surely Jac was teasing her.
    “No.”
    Thank God. She took another sip.
    “More.”
    This time she did choke.
    “Careful. Swallow.” Their fingers touched as Jac held Liz’s glass to refill it. “You realize, of course, that we just freed a fifteen-year-old prisoner,” Jac said, sitting in the chair closest to the heater. Max lay by her side, the tennis ball between his paws.
    “Huh?” Why did she always feel three steps behind in conversations with Jac?
    “The wine. 1999. Great year. Now free to be our guest for the night.”
    Liz’s heart tumbled and she took quick breaths. That was the year she and Teri had met. It had been a great year. She wanted more wine, lots more suddenly, and took a long swallow. She didn’t intend to let grief shred this moment.
    “You missed our recital,” Peggy said to Jac. “Which reminds me. I’ll be right back.” She went to the house, and a minute later Liz’s CD started. “When’s your next show?” Peggy asked when she returned. “Roger and I love live music.”
    “We’re on a break at the moment.”
    “Jac said you had a successful tour last year. You’ll have to let us know when you’re performing again.”
    Liz stared at the base of the wineglass as she turned it slowly. Resentment felt like a hard block in her stomach. This was her life now. And it followed her everywhere. A widow. Explaining. Sympathy she was tired of. Conversations that died because people didn’t know what to say. She kept turning the glass as she said, “My wife died last September.” The first day of fall. A beautiful day, not too hot. The kind of day they should have been on a picnic, not—She clenched her jaw against the threat of tears. “She was our drummer.”
    “I’m so sorry. Jac didn’t say anything.” Peggy scowled in Jac’s direction as she laid her hand on Liz’s forearm. “Were you together long?”
    Liz liked that Peggy asked what she wanted and didn’t bat an eye at her being a lesbian. Jac’s expression was unreadable. “Fourteen years.”
    “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for