Shipping Sharon Read online

  "Uh-huh," Norman said. "I guess it's like you said, Maisy--those Europeans like their partners zaftig." A devilish smile crept across Norman's face as he jiggled his eyebrows again.

  "Well, I'll be damned. I never would have guessed Rudy was . . ." Blushing, Maisy lowered her head.

  "Gay?" Norman shrugged. "Hey, we come in all shapes and sizes, kiddo. Even stubby little guys like me and big old Schwarzenegger types like Rudy." He laughed.

  "He seems really nice, Norman. Rudy's got the kind of laugh that seems to start in his toes and gain momentum before it bursts forth from his throat. I can really picture you guys together." Blushing furiously, Maisy whipped her head towards Norman. "Oh, no. I didn't mean that. What I meant to say was--"

  Norman gave Maisy a hearty slap on the back as he laughed. "Better stop while you're ahead, Maisy. It's okay, I know what you meant. You think Rudy and I will hit it off--and I think you're absolutely right. We connected right away, so we acted on it. Why beat around the bush, right? Life's too damn short for coy, silly games."

  "Oh, Norman, you make it all sound so easy . . . so simple." Maisy heaved a sigh.

  "But it is simple. Love and sex . . . they're only difficult if you make them so." Norman shrugged. "You just have to learn to follow your heart instead of your head all the time, my little friend. But," Norman said as he pulled Maisy into a buddy-hug, "this isn't the time for lectures, so we won't go into any of that, will we?"

  "Uh-uh." Maisy smiled as she returned Norman's hug and they walked with their arms wrapped around each other's back towards the parking lot.

  Sticking out his stomach and puffing out his cheeks, Norman said, "Boy, am I stuffed. How about you?"

  "Stuffed? Are you kidding?" Maisy rolled her eyes. "Jeez Norman, it's going to take me at least a month to work off all that food. And, yikes, what about all that beer?" She jiggled her tummy. "Whew, that stuff is strong--although, you were right, it was better than any other beer I've ever tasted. Not only am I stuffed, I think I'm borderline sloshed, too." She giggled.

  Wagging his finger, Norman tsked. "I warned you to take it easy on the beer. It creeps up on you real fast, kid. Especially if you're an inexperienced drinker."

  "Yeah, yeah, okay, Dad," Maisy said, waving a dismissive hand. "Good grief, if this is the way they eat and drink everyday in Germany, it's a miracle that everybody there doesn't weigh at least four hundred pounds and walk around in a perpetual state of insobriety." Maisy unbuttoned her coat. "I ate and drank so much I'm not even cold any more," she laughed.

  "Good! We need a good, brawny, ethnic meal like that every so often instead of always worrying about our diets." Norman took in a long deep breath through his nostrils and breathed it out in a loud, satisfied a-h-h-h-h. As they reached the parking lot and Norman was about to put his key in the lock, he turned back to Maisy and said, "You know, I feel like walking for a while, how about you?"

  "At this point," Maisy said, "I think that's my only alternative, because if I tried to sit down in that car now, I'd probably get wedged in the seat." She laughed and patted her tummy. "You'd have to call the fire department to pry me out. Plus, I think I need to walk off some of the effects of all that beer. Whew." She mopped her brow.

  "Remember one of your first lessons, Maisy? Cosmopolitan people avoid getting soused at all costs."

  Slapping Norman's arm, Maisy huffed. "Oh, Norman, stop exaggerating, I'm not soused." Her face morphed into a wide grin. "Maybe just a little bombed, that's all." Maisy collapsed into a fit of giggles. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she looped her arm through Norman's. "Come on, enough lecturing, let's get going with our walking tour so we can see some of those cute downtown Naperville shops I've been hearing about."

  Norman slanted Maisy a sly grin. "Good. That's just what I hoped you'd say."

  After visiting a few shops, Norman turned the corner and headed away from Main Street. "Where to now, Norman?" Maisy asked.

  "Oh, uh, I thought it would do us good to take the long way back to the car. Remember, we want to stay fit, right?" Norman briskly jogged in place and Maisy nodded in agreement. "And, if we're going to eat big, we've got to pay the price, right?" Maisy nodded again and, already out of breath, Norman ceased his jogging. "I think there are more shops just down the street, come on." After walking about half a block, Norman stopped in front of a resplendently restored Victorian mansion and stood, arms akimbo, looking at it. "Well, I'll be darned. Look what we have here, Maisy."

  Her jaw dropping open, Maisy looked at the sign that read, Keller's Cellars, and folded her arms across her chest. Turning sharply towards her boss, Maisy's face was a telltale mask of accusation. "Norman Stanley, you planned this whole thing, didn't you?"

  Feigning innocence, Norman held his hand to his chest, projecting a wide-eyed expression. "Me? Why Maisy, this is just a sheer coincidence. You know I would never do something like that. I swear I wouldn't. You hurt me," he said, stabbing an imaginary knife into his heart. "You really hurt me, you know that?" He gave Maisy his best hangdog look and turned away.

  Balancing her weight on one hip, Maisy bobbed her head up and down rapidly. "Oh, yeah, right. Don't give me that, poor me, song and dance, Norman Stanley, I don't buy it for a minute. Remember, I know you better. Come on, let's go back to the car." Maisy swirled around and Norman grabbed hold of the sleeve of her coat.

  "Wait a minute. Aren't you even a little bit curious?"

  "Norman, I am not going in there. Do you hear me?" She yanked her sleeve from Norman's grasp. "No way, no how--no, nein, nix. Got it? Now let's go."

  Norman grabbed Maisy's sleeve again, yanking her back. "But he's not even in there, Maisy. Keller's away on a business trip."

  With tongue firmly planted in her cheek, Maisy slowly crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh yeah, like I'm really going to believe you. Hah! And just how would you happen to know anything about Keller's whereabouts, anyway, Norman?" She peered at him through narrowed slits. "I mean, seeing as how you swore to me that you didn't purposely plan this little accidental stop at Keller's winery."

  Norman shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly. "Okay, so shoot me."

  "Hah! A gun, a gun, my kingdom for a gun!" Maisy punctuated her sentence by jabbing her outstretched finger in Norman's gut and pulling the imaginary trigger.

  "Ow." Wincing, Norman fell into his nervous staccato laughter. "Okay, so I made a little call to see if he would be here today, that's all. What's wrong with that, huh?"

  "Let's go to lunch out in Naperville, Maisy," Maisy said, doing a broad imitation of her boss. "And gee, what say we go for a little walking tour?"

  "Go ahead, make fun of me, see if I care," Norman pouted and Maisy mumbled an expletive under her breath.

  "Uh-uh-uh, Maisy, cosmopolitan people never resort to that base sort of language," Norman said, tsking.

  "Arghhh!" Maisy hit the palm of her hand against her forehead. "You're standing there making humorous remarks while I'm struggling to keep from committing homicide? What the hell's the matter with you, Norman?"

  "I can't help it." With his best hangdog expression, Norman shrugged. "I'm pixilated."

  "You're . . . you're what?" Startled by Norman's ridiculous remark, a smile threatened to tease at Maisy's lips. Determined not to let Norman get off so easily, she spun on her heel and started to walk away again, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Damn him, he always knew how to make her laugh. Well, this was one argument he wouldn't win.

  Close on Maisy's heels, Norman pleaded, "Aw, come on, Maisy, I know you're anxious to see the winery. This is the perfect time. You can't tell me that you're not dying to get a glimpse." Maisy hesitated for a moment and Norman knew he had her then. He moved in closer to Maisy and placed his arm around her shoulder. "What can one little peek hurt, huh, Maisy? We'll just zip around real fast," Norman gestured as he spoke, "and then we'll leave . . . just tip-toe right out. Believe me, Keller will never even know that you were here."

  "You'
re absolutely positive that he's out of town? I mean that wasn't another one of your elasticizing the truth things, was it? Because if we go in there and I find out you were lying . . ."

  Flinching at Maisy's ominous expression, Norman solemnly shook his head and crossed his heart. "This time, I promise, I'm telling the truth. I swear, Maisy . . . on my Grandma Gert's life."

  Shifting her weight to one hip, Maisy rolled her eyes and heaved a tuneful sigh. "You're Grandma Gert's already dead, Norman."

  Spilling forth with another spurt of his nervous, staccato laughter, Norman said, "Of course she is. I just forgot for a minute, that's all. What I meant to say was, I swear on my Grandma Gert's grave." He crossed his heart again.

  Maisy shuddered. "You didn't have to go that far." She wiped the goosebumps from her arms in silent contemplation.

  Speaking in low, conspiratory tones, Norman leaned close to Maisy and said, "Just before we left Persimmon, I called and talked to a woman who said Keller was out of town until tomorrow." Raising his eyebrows, he nodded.

  After another minute, Maisy threw her hands up into the air and said, "Lord knows, why I should believe you . . . but I do. Okay, what the heck." She clenched Norman's sleeve and yanked him close. "Just five minutes, though, that's all. Deal?"

  "Deal." Norman beamed a satisfied look and expelled the breath he'd been holding while Maisy made up her mind.

  Walking into the retail area of Keller's Cellars was like taking a step back in time. Both Norman and Maisy were awed by the amount of finite detail that had gone into the renovation and decorating of the shop. In the vestibule was a little marble topped table that held a large thermal carafe of Keller's Cellars' warm, spiced red wine and small, disposable tasting cups. Norman poured out a sample for each of them and they marveled at how flavorful and delicious the spiced brew was. To the left was a large shop area, with gift packages of all shapes and sizes and all kinds of paraphernalia for the wine lover. There were shelves filled with locally made, flavored olive oils and mustards, and preserves and a select assortment of other delectables. The large room to the right was set up as a tasting room and the mahogany-paneled walls were lined with racks of wine that the customers could select for purchase after their tasting if they so desired. Rich, dark wood was everywhere, from the floors and baseboards to the ornate ceiling trim. The entryway to each room was covered with an ornately scrolled and carved mahogany arch. Everything about Keller's Cellars exuded class, style, and good taste.

  "My God, Norman, I had no idea it would be so beautiful."

  "Well, if you weren't so stubborn, you'd have looked at those brochures I brought back from the Mayfest in Chicago, where Keller had his tent set up, and you would have known. Didn't I tell you the man has good taste, huh? It's like I told you before, Maisy, Keller is definitely the one for you--I feel it."

  Maisy whipped her head towards Norman. "I'm warning you, don't start in on me again with that nonsense." She grabbed his sleeve, digging in deep enough to pinch a fold of skin and give it a good twist.

  "Jesus, Maisy," Norman said, rubbing his arm. "A couple of beers and you turn into a Nazi. Come on, let's taste some wines. Look, it's only three dollars to sample six of their wines," Norman said.

  Maisy tugged at Norman's coat before he could walk into the tasting room. "First of all, Norman," she whispered, "our deal was only five minutes. We've already been here longer than that. Second of all, how do you expect me to drink six wine samples after I had all that beer? Now let's go."

  Norman held out his arms and motioned around him. "Look, it's their dead time, there's not a soul here to see you--only the saleswoman behind the counter. Keller's gone anyway, so why don't you just relax and sample a few of the wines. Just take a sip or two of each. It won't take us long at all. After all, we've driven all this way and . . ."

  Wheezing out a sigh, Maisy gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "All right already, you can stop all your coaxing and cajoling," she laughed. "I guess there's no harm in having a quick, teensy taste."

  "Good!" Norman gave Maisy such an exuberant slap on the back, it nearly sent her flying across the tasting room.

  "Good afternoon, folks, I'm Agatha. Is there anything I can help you with?" The sixty-ish, salt and pepper-haired woman sported a friendly smile.

  "Yes," Norman said enthusiastically, "we'd like to sample some wines."

  "Does it take long," Maisy asked nervously.

  "Well, that's up to you," Agatha said chuckling. "It's three dollars for six samples of wine, and you can take as much or as little time as you like."

  "I, uh, I'd like to do this as quickly as possible, okay?" Smiling nervously, Maisy handed Agatha six dollars.

  Agatha nodded affirmatively. "Of course. These are the selections we're offering today," she said as she began to pour a hefty sample of deep dark wine for Maisy and another for Norman. "This first is blackberry wine. It's a silver medal winner for Keller's Cellars. If you take in a deep sniff, you can smell the lush ripe fruit. Wonderful, isn't it?"

  "Oh, this is good," Maisy and Norman said in chorus, as Agatha continued to pour the other five samples and setting them on the counter.

  Pointing to each sizable sample, Agatha said, "This is strawberry; Door County Cherry; our award winning apple-pear; our Mayfest Riesling; and finally, there's apricot, a gold medal winner. If you look at the paper place-mat under the samples, each wine is described in detail." Agatha reached under the counter and placed a basket of water crackers, and a platter of cheese cubes in front of them. "Just help yourselves, and enjoy. If there's anything you need, or if you have any questions, I'll just be in the next room." With that, Agatha scooted around the corner.

  "Boy that lady certainly gave us our six bucks worth," Norman said. "Look at the size of these samples. Ah, this you have to taste," Norman said, raising his sample of Riesling. "I tasted this in Keller's wine tent at the Mayfest." He sipped the pale golden wine, letting out an exclamation of satisfaction. "I know that boy has got to have some German in him to make a Riesling this good."

  "Mmmm, it's delicious," Maisy agreed. "They're all really delicious, especially the apricot, that's my favorite." Maisy downed samples quickly as she spoke. "Come on, Norman, drink faster. We've been in this place long enough."

  "Whoa, slow down, Maisy." Tsking, Norman swallowed a cube of Muenster cheese. "That's not how you're supposed to drink wine. You're supposed to savor it . . . sip it, slowly. Gulp it down like that and it's going to hit you hard," Norman snapped his fingers, "just like that. Especially on top of all that beer you just had." Norman punctuated his warning by wagging a finger towards Maisy.

  "Nag, nag, nag. Hey, what are you, my father or my boss?" Maisy laughed. "It's just fruit wine, Norman. It doesn't taste strong at all. As a matter of fact, I can hardly even taste any alcohol in it, so relax, will ya?" She laughed again as she gulped back another sample.

  "Oh, listen to Miss Cosmopolitan here," Norman said, slapping at Maisy's arm and rolling his eyes. "Of course it doesn't taste strong, it's not supposed to, you ninny. That's why it can creep up on you so fast." Norman licked his lips after sipping the Door County Cherry sample. "Obviously, Keller is an even more amazing man than I gave him credit for. He's a master at his craft. You know, you could do much worse than Keller Chaney, Maisy."

  "Okay, that does it--we're outta here." Ignoring Norman's warning, Maisy quickly imbibed the last of her samples. "Come on, let's go." She grasped Norman's arm and yanked.

  "But I still have three samples left. I'm not going anywhere until all of my wine is finished." Norman gave a stubborn nod.

  "Oooh, Norman Stanley, you are so exasperating. I knew you'd do something like this once you got me in here." Narrowing her eyes, Maisy glared at her boss. "What's next on your agenda--finding something to keep me here overnight, hmmm?" Pushing him aside, Maisy proceeded to gulp back the rest of Norman's samples. "There. All of your wine is finished. Now, we can go, because you're clean out of excuses." Turning on her heel, wit
h Norman in tow, Maisy marched towards the door, stopping a few feet from it. "Ooooh, gee," she said as she placed her hand to her head and teetered. "I feel kind of funny. Norman, did it get really hot in here all of a sudden, or is it just me?"

  Norman rolled his eyes. "It's you, you little idiot. I tried to tell you this would happen, Maisy. All that wine on top of all that beer--but, no, you wouldn't listen." He shook his head and tsked. "Ugh, what am I going to do with you, huh?" He took hold of Maisy's arm to help steady her.

  Agatha turned the corner and smiled. "Come again soon," she said as she began to walk past them. One look at Maisy stopped her. "Oh dear, the young lady doesn't look at all well. Are . . . are you all right, dear?" Her eyebrows knitted with worry as she took Maisy by the elbow.

  "I . . . I . . ." Maisy continued to teeter as she tried to get her wits about her. "I'm not sure. I don't think so." Her words were followed by a meager giggle as one knee buckled beneath her.

  As Norman and Agatha supported Maisy to keep her from falling, Norman said, "She's all right, she just drank too much wine too fast. If it's all right with you, I think she just needs to rest for a little while."

  "Certainly," Agatha said as she motioned towards the nearby staircase.

  "Maisy, honey, I'm afraid you're very inebriated," Norman said. "Come on, you need to sit down for a few minutes." He and Agatha guided Maisy to the steps leading to the second floor, perching her on a step where she could lean against the wall.

  "Is that better, dear?" Agatha asked.

  Maisy answered by giving a careless shrug and belting out a string of giggles.

  "Uh-oh," Agatha said, winking at Norman. "She's a giggler."

  "Is she ever," Norman rolled his eyes and laughed. "She's not an experienced drinker--goes right to her head, I'm afraid."

  "I understand." Agatha smiled and shook her head sympathetically. "I've got a fresh, hot pot of coffee going in the back room. I'll be back with some in a minute."

  "Oh, you're a doll," Norman said, "Thanks." Turning to Maisy, he shook his head and tsked. "You're not going to be sick, are you Maisy?" Again, Maisy just shrugged and offered a giggle. Norman gently smoothed the hair from Maisy's eyes. "You look a little green around the gills, honey."