HAPPY HOUR

by Michele Scott

Every woman has that group of friends in her life ~ her "go to girls" The friends that she can turn to who "get it." The ones who are there for you no matter what. The ones who laugh with you and cry with you. The ones that will always be there. These are the women of Napa Valley.

Jamie is the editor-in-chief of Wine Lover's Magazine, a single mother and caretaker to her senile mother-in-law ~ a woman who thinks her daily caregiver is Dean Martin. Jamie is still recovering, financially and emotionally from the death of her husband several years earlier. And when she finds what could be the key to happiness, can she open the door and let it in? Or will her feelings of guilt and betrayal hold her back?

Danielle is a vintner and the divorced mom of two. She's basking in what she knows is going to be a successful launch of her new wines. Wines she created on her own after her divorce. But what she doesn't expect is for her daughter to come home with news that will shock her to her core. Will an old flame help her accept the changes that are coming and find the love she's been missing in her life for so long? Or will a tragedy that no one sees coming change their lives forever?

Kat is a sommelier, co-owner of a magnificent restaurant with her chef husband, and mother of a blended family. But is being deeply in love with your husband enough to get them through the teenage years, step-children and exes? And what happens when old faces return and she's faced with the knowledge that not everything is what you thought it was. What happens when she finds she was mad at the wrong person and finds out the "right one" was in the wrong? Can she forgive and move on? Can love overcome everything and truly bring a family together?

Alyssa is an artist and gallery owner with a secret of her own. One she was hoping would stay buried deep in her closet. But the time has come for her to put someone else first, to face the past and to deal with her demons. What she never expected to find was love and her "home."

No matter what is going on in their own lives, no matter the heartache or joy they're experiencing these four women are always there to love, support and encourage each other.

EXCERPT CHAPTER ONE

Three and a half years ago

Kat

Kat McClintock was late. This was not good. This would not be good. Damn. Damn. Damn. "Okay, boys, listen."

Neither one of her pre-pubescent sons looked at her. They were far too absorbed in whatever new Game Station, Game Cube, Play Station, Wii, (whatever it was these days) game their father had recently purchased for them. She turned the TV off.

 "Hey!" Jeremy yelled. "What are you doing, Mom? Not cool. Turn it back on." Jeremy had evidently bypassed pre-pubescence altogether and jumped right into raging adolescence and his day-to-day tone with her ranged from apathetic to surly.

 "Mommy, we were about to kill the boss," Brian, her ten-year-old, said. "The like, the big boss, you know? The guy to win!"

 Thank God. He was definitely still not even close to adolescence. He was still sweet. No one going through puberty would dream of calling their mother Mommy. "I'm sorry, boys. I have to go. Your Aunt Tammy was supposed to be here by now. Typical." She shook her head.

  "Anyway, Jeremy, I need you to take out two frozen burritos and put them in the microwave. There're some bananas and I have some broccoli already cut up in there."

 "I hate broccoli," Brian said.

 "You like it with ranch dressing."

 "No, I don't."

 "How come we cant go out to eat? Dad always takes us out to eat," Jeremy said.

 Kat placed her hands on her hips and tried to look official. "I'm having you eat a healthy meal." That sort of sounded okay. "Good food makes you grow big and strong and have a smart brain." She winked at them.

 "Frozen burritos?" Jeremy replied.

 Too smart for his own good. "Jer, no more lip. Eat the burritos. You know you like them. I'll be back by bedtime and your homework needs to be done. Don't answer the phone unless you see that its coming from me and call me on my cell if you have a problem. Obviously do not go outside or open the door for anyone. Leave Squeak in the house. She's on my bed right now. She makes a good watchdog."

 "She's a Chihuahua," Jeremy said. "Not exactly a watchdog, Mom." He gave her a half smile and the twinkle in his blue eyes left nothing for the imagination. Her oldest boy defined mischief. The kind she knew later in life would break many a woman's heart. She sighed and shook her head. At twelve, Jeremy was getting by on his charm and good looks with his teachers all blue eyed, olive skinned, and thick dark hair. Brian was, of course, beautiful, too, but he took after her with lighter brown hair. No one knew exactly how to describe his eye color--hazel, brown, green? Kat settled on avocado. It was what her mother called them. Mom never described anything as green, blue, or brown. With Mom it was always lime, cornflower, hazelnut, etceteras.

 "But she barks. Can you handle all that? I'm sorry, guys. I'll take you out for pizza on Friday. "

 "We're going with Dad on Friday and, duh, I can handle it. I'm twelve, not a baby anymore." Jeremy turned back to the TV. "Can we turn it back on now?"

 "No. I don't like your attitude, buddy. You're acting like a monkey. Ooh ah ooh." Kat tucked her arms underneath her, and jumped up and down in her best imitation of a monkey. Jeremy stared at her, but Brian giggled. The monkey imitation used to work so well, and now--a stare and one little giggle. "Alrighty then, I am officially a goober. That much is obvious, right? But as your officially gooberish mom, your attitude Mr. Jeremy -- ooh wait." She held up a finger. "If I am goober mom then you must be my goober sons! Ha. So, I need your goober bad attitude straightened out by the time I get home."

 Jeremy frowned. "Mom, goober is so old school. You're a nube." Now both boys broke up in hilarity. "But we still love you." He grinned.

 "Right. Me nube, you nube." Not only was Jeremy charming, but also downright manipulative when he needed to be, and too damn smart for his own good. "Love you." She went around the cheapie sofa shed bought at a hole in the wall furniture store. After only a few months the color changed from light beige to dreary mud. She made a mental note to get one of those shabby chic covers shed seen at Target once she deposited her first paycheck which--fingers crossed--would be soon. She kissed each boy on the cheek, with Jeremy responding by wiping it away and grimacing as if he'd been touched by an alien.

 At least Brian hugged her back and smiled. "Bye, Mom. Good luck. You'll get the job. I know it."

 B"ye, babe, and thank you. You can turn the TV back on after your homework is finished. Leave it out on the kitchen table so I can check it when I get home." Who was she kidding? As soon as those boys heard the car pull out of the driveway of their three-bedroom townhouse in the outskirts of Oakland, she knew that the TV and game would be back on.

 Guilt dropped in on her again. Guilt that she wouldnt be home to make sure they ate a healthy meal. Guilt that she wouldn't be there to help Brian with his math problems that hed been having difficulty with. Guilt that she wasnt there when Jeremy wanted to actually talk to her or watch TV with her. Too much God damned guilt went with divorce, and Kat hated it. But what was she supposed to do? Turn a blind eye? Allow the boys to grow up in a home where disrespecting women was accepted? No. Shed take this guilt. Peace. Breathe in peace and relaxation. Were all those tapes her mom had been sending her starting to rub off on her? The ones with titles like Flowdreaming for Peace, and Balance Through Breath?

She got behind the wheel of her jeep and pulled out of the one-car garage the town home afforded. The place where she and boys now lived was definitely a step down from upper middle class suburbia, but as she pressed the garage door remote, she knew that this place was far more a home than the Victorian they'd lived in, on the edge of Pacific Heights. So what if Perry still lived there with his flavor of the week? Kat sort of believed in karma and where her ex was concerned, she found it almost orgasmic to have faith in this theory because she knew the man would get his just due. Yep. Perry had kept the classic painted lady and shed downsized to the three-bedroom with mold under the sinks and peeling wallpaper in her room. But, it had given her back her sanity and a sense of self that shed lost during those eight years of marriage (technically ten by the time the divorce was finalized). Why she hadn't gotten smart and taken that wake up pill when Perry had told her that he thought that marriage was an antiquated idea, shed never know. One child out of wedlock had been one thing, but when shed gotten pregnant with Brian she had insisted that Perry marry her, or else. She should have taken the or else part.

 Enough of that though, because this was her new life--her new start--and she broke pretty much every speed limit trying to get to it, running a yellow light that was much closer to red than green. Stopping at the next one, she took a good look in the mirror. Yikes. The boys soccer practice had run late. The coach who thought he was Pele himself preached this whole team effort philosophy: when you sign your kid up for a sport, there is a commitment factor you have to consider and blah, blah, blah. True, Kat believed in commitment. So much so that she had spent years overlooking her ex's over-spending habits and the lies that surrounded them, the flirting here and there with other women . . . But when it came right down to bedding one of the women in her book club? That had pretty much made the notion of commitment null and void.

The commitment to the boys soccer now made her late for her job interview.

With one hand on the wheel and the other in her purse, Kat rummaged around feeling for a lipstick and hopefully, a hair clip. She needed to get a smaller purse. This was like diving into a black hole. So far she had found one bag of chips, a ton of receipts, a tampon, and a handful of candy wrappers. Aha, there was a clippie. Not the most attractive look, but it would have to do. Now for the lipstick.

Next to the lipstick she knew what she felt. The cigarette wrapper. She winced. To smoke or not to smoke? Serious question. No. She wouldn't do it. She thought about the discussion shed had with her mother, Venus. Yes, Venus. Kat sighed. It had been Veronica all her life until ten years ago when she hit fifty-five and left Kats dad to find herself. She moved to an ashram in Oregon, and changed her name.

 Anyhow, the conversation she'd had last month when her mother visited ran through her mind.

"Kitty, love, you have too many lines around your mouth for a woman your age. You're only thirty-five."

"I'm thirty-seven, Mom." Her mother was totally on her nerves at that point. They'd spent five solid days together and between learning how to make tofu dishes, attending the yoga classes her mother insisted on, and having henna tattoos painted on her feet, Kat thought she would lose it at any moment.

"Age is only a number." She waved a hand through the air. They were seated at Kats kitchen table drinking green tea. "Look at me. No lines. I have no stress. I take the day as it comes and because of that I have found not only perfection in my outward appearance, but also in my inner spirit as well. Namaste." With her hands in prayer position she bowed to Kat.

Gag.

Mom ran a hand over her face. It was true that she had no lines. But, Kat hadn't forgotten (and apparently Mom had) that before her mother had gone all Hare Krishna on them and left Dad, shed had one helluva face lift. Veronica or Venus --whatever-- her mother looked like a new age Raquel Welch. That is, if Welch had had the poor fashion sense to don Birkenstocks and a muu muu.

"Kitty Love, I think that you must have too much stress in your life. You look bitter. Or like a smoker might. Have you seen what women who smoke look like? Its not pretty."

Last straw. Right then and there Kat determined she was fixing burgers that evening. "Mom, I am a little bitter, but I'll get through that." Her mother started to interrupt her. She shook her head and held up a hand. "Oh, no, no, I am not going to discuss my reasons why with you. I'm working through it on my own and in my own time, so you let it go. And I am a smoker."

Her mother's face paled.

I've been a closet smoker since I was fifteen.

"What?"

Kat took a sip from her tea feeling decidedly good about herself. She smiled and nodded. Yes. I smoke three to four cigarettes a day. When the boys leave for school I have a smoke. After lunch I have a smoke, and then after dinner, when I take a walk, I have a smoke. And guess what, Venus? Sometimes I have a smoke before bed if I'm really stressed out. Been doing it for years."

Shortly after Mom got back home, Kat started receiving self-help CDs in the mail along with yoga DVDs. She figured she had the entire Rodney Yee and Baron Baptiste library.

One day she would do one of those DVDs. She had felt so bad about that conversation that shed gone ahead and started listening to the CDs. The result being that shed pretty much stopped smoking. Pretty much. But right now a cigarette would surely take the edge off.

Getting the pack out of her purse, Kat glanced down for a second. When she looked back up there was another red light, and thankfully she caught it in time or she would have slammed into the back of a semi. Her purse flew to the floor, its contents going every which way. Shit! That had to be a sign, right? Stop smoking or die. Duh, as Jeremy would say. It would either be through lung cancer, according to Mom, or on the highway while in such desperate need of a smoke she was willing to risk having the back end of a double wide shoved up her nose.

She crossed the Oakland Bridge and for the rest of her drive into the city she listened to her mothers latest gift, Wayne Dyers Being in Balance. By the time she made it into San Fran, she understood the third chapter fairly well: Your Addictions Tell You, You'll Never Get Enough of What You Want. Now there was one shed have to listen to again on the drive home. About the time that the lull of Dr. Dyers voice settled her into a calm state, she realized she needed to find parking and she was already five minutes late. Great way to go in for a job interview.

Four blocks away, Kat located a space, parked, and then practically jogged to the restaurant, praying she wouldn't look a total disaster when she made it there. After taking a deep breath and smoothing down her clothes, she opened the door to Sphinx.

A stylish, brown-eyed, long dark-haired hostess stood at the front. What was she? Twenty-three tops? How did anyone at twenty-three look so put together? She hadn't even managed it by thirty-seven, conscious of the wrinkling in her light blue cotton blouse and the small stain from one of the boys juice boxes that had squirted out in the car earlier when Brian had poked his straw into it. The boys thought it hilarious that the juice had sprayed everywhere. Kat hadn't noticed the spot until now, face to face with little Miss Shine and Sparkle, when she spotted the small red stain on the left thigh of her khakis. Boys!

Kat closed her hands around the handle on her purse and smiled. "Hi, I'm Kat McClintock. I'm here for an interview with Mr. Reilly." What she lacked in fashion sense she could at least make up for with maturity.

"One moment. I'll get him for you."

Kat took a good long look around. Modern flair painted in warm shades of green made the restaurant look as chic as Kat had read about in the foodie magazines. The floors were done in cherry wood squares, with a lighter wood of some sort cut out in a diamond pattern filling the center. Gold suede-covered booths lined the walls. The tables and chairs arranged in the middle spoke of elegance in dark woods and gold colored linens. Paintings of the Sphinx arranged around the restaurant added mystique to the elegance. She could see herself working here. The d飯r was nothing compared to the smells coming from the kitchen. Sphinx was the new hot restaurant in San Francisco. She breathed in the decadent smells of garlic, tomato, basil, onion, a bit of curry totally intoxicating and intimidating all at once.

Then out walked Christian Reilly, the owner and head chef, and if there was any truth to the idea that you could actually go weak in the knees at the sight of splendor, well, Kat experienced it right then and there. An actual physical reaction made her reach out and grab the hostess stand with one hand. Christian Reilly wasn't gorgeous in the Brad Pitt kind of way. In fact, to some women he might not even be considered all that great looking. But to Kat he fit right into her beautiful category: hazel eyes, not too tall for her, as she was a petite five-foot-three. Christian had dark hair, the kind she could run her fingers through a barely there scruff of a beard, and wrinkles that deepened when he said her name with a slight Irish accent. When he repeated her name and smiled, the lines around his eyes deepened. A man who had lived a little. Nice. Butterfly, stomach-swirling nice. For a second, she had to make sure she wasn't licking her lips.

14. Who did Kat need to talk to about a job?