Page 43 of The Loophole
I thought about how best to explain it before saying, “Having a front row seat as my parents’ marriage unraveled was pretty horrible. For about a year before they split up, there was so much tension in our house. They tried not to fight in front of my brother and me, but we could still feel it. When you’re a little kid, your home and your family are your whole world, and ours was quietly miserable, all the time.”
I paused for a moment as I tried to push those memories down again. Then I continued, “But there was this one day—it was my mom’s birthday, and Dad decided we should all go out to a fancy restaurant. He really shot for the stars here. We’retalking the best of the best. We’d never been to a place that nice before. Everything was absolutely beautiful—the setting, the food. Each dish was more glorious and more perfect than the last. I barely remember what we ate, but I remember how it made us feel.
“This place treated us like royalty. The staff made us feel special, and seen, and heard. When Fallon mentioned he liked chocolate, they brought each of us the most perfect little bonbon, covered in real gold. I’d never seen such a thing! I’d never even imagined it.
“But even more amazing was looking around the table and seeing my whole family smiling. For that one evening, we werehappy. It was so different than the rest of our lives, and such a welcome break from all that tension. I fully understood that getting to be a guest at this restaurant was something special, and I never, ever wanted to leave.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat before continuing, “Of course, that one amazing birthday dinner didn’t fix anything. My parents still got divorced. My mom and brother still moved away. But getting to experience that, even just for one night, felt so damn good.”
Embry reached out and squeezed my shoulder. We were still creeping across the bridge. I took a breath and finished my story. “I was a little kid at the time, and I obviously didn’t make the decision then and there to become a chef. But I learned that day that a great restaurant is a kind of magic. It has the power to bring people together, and to make them happy.
“That’s what I wanted to do with my restaurant. But I think that goal got lost along the way, or maybe it was drowned out by my relentless quest for perfection.”
“I get it,” Embry said, “because I have the same goal—making people happy. I plan to do that one cake at a time. Have you ever been unhappy while eating cake?”
“Nope.”
“Exactly.”
12
Bryson
My Great Uncle Charles lived in a Tuscan-style villa in Sonoma County, about seventy miles north of San Francisco. The original owners had been trying for a rustic, informal feel when they built it in the 1940s. But since it was huge and sat at the top of a hill, I could see how it might seem imposing at first glance.
When we turned onto a private road and it came into view, Embry whispered, “Holy smokes, is that where we’re going?” I nodded, and he said, “You know, I never asked. How did your family make its money?”
“It all started with Pierre and Marie Baudelaire, who made their fortune during the California gold rush.”
“Really? They struck gold?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking. They were entrepreneurs who emigrated from France to the U.S. in the 1840s. When everyone started heading west, they came to San Francisco and opened a general store. It was so successful that they expanded to include a restaurant, a hotel, and a bank, just as the city was coming into its own.”
“That was smart.”
“It was, and they did well. In fact, most of their businesses kept thriving long after the gold rush ended. Their kids and grandkids took over eventually, and even though they suffered a setback in the 1906 earthquake, they were able to rebuild the bank. It was still going strong when the family sold it in the 1970s. At that point, my grandfather and his brother used part of their inheritance to build a successful financial consulting firm. Granddad is still working there, but Uncle Charles retired six years ago and moved up here full-time. He’s owned this place for almost four decades, so I’ve spent a lot of holidays here.”
Embry asked, “Did your father work with them?”
“No. Dad went to medical school but ended up finding his passion in teaching. He was a professor at UCSF.”
I thought he’d comment on all that privilege, which I fully understood. Instead, he said, “It’s pretty wild that you can trace generations of your family like that. My mom was an only child, and she was estranged from her parents. They didn’t have much interest in me when I went and introduced myself at nineteen. And my dad’s side, well, that’s just one big blank.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but then he asked, “So, who am I about to meet, besides your grandfather and your great uncle Charles?”
“Well, they’re both widowers, but my uncle has girlfriends from time to time. He recently started dating someone new, but I’m not sure if she’ll be around this week. Then there’s my brother Fallon and his wife and two kids. By the way, she’s an event planner, he works as a corporate lawyer, and they live in Sacramento. I don’t think I told you that.
“My dad was an only child, and Charles has three daughters. The oldest has been married for thirty years, but one of her sisters is on her third marriage, and the other was recently married for a fourth time. They have several kids and step-kids, and some of them are starting families of their own now. Someyears, we might have ten people here for Christmas. Other years, it can be closer to thirty. I’m not sure who’ll be here this time.”
“I hope I can remember who’s who.” He sounded nervous.
“I know meeting a lot of people all at once can be overwhelming. If you forget names, please don’t worry. I’ll be right by your side throughout all of this, and I can help.”
He nodded before turning his head and looking out the window. The private road we were on meandered uphill, through acres of vineyards that were dormant in winter. “It’s pretty here,” he murmured.
“It is. I really love it here, no matter the time of year. Now, in winter, I think there’s a stark beauty to the vines in their tidy rows. Then, in the springtime, it all turns into a sea of green. The blooms don’t look like much, but for a week or two, there’s this subtle, sweet smell in the air. Then all summer, you can watch the grapes changing from tiny green pearls to these big clusters of deep purple. Harvest season in the early fall has its own unique scent.”
“Does your great uncle actually make wine?”