The Vineyard Picnic – Part 2: Golden Hour

The sun slid slowly down the sky.

They lay on the quilt, head to head, looking up through the leaves of the oak. Bees hummed in the clover. Swallows dipped over the vines. The light turned from white to apricot to deep gold, laying long shadows across the hills.

"I'd forgotten you could be romantic," said Claire.

"I'd forgotten you could be silent."

"I'm never silent."

"You've been silent for ten minutes."

"I'm enjoying myself."

He propped himself on an elbow and looked at her. Her chignon had come loose, strands of dark hair falling across her cheek. Her suit jacket was crumpled under her head. She looked twenty-five.

"Can I tell you something?" he said.

"Yes."

"I'm happier now than I was at the wedding."

Her throat tightened. "That's the loveliest thing you've ever said."

"I was sure I'd muff it."

"You didn't."

The wine was gone. The baguette was crumbs. The vines glowed copper as the sun touched the horizon. A warm wind carried the smell of leaves and sun-dried grass. Somewhere far off, a dog barked, and a tractor coughed and fell silent.

"Can I ask you something?" said Étienne.

"Yes."

"May I kiss my wife? Out here, with nobody to see?"

"Yes," said Claire. "And if I say stop, you must take me to a fair again."

"That is a terrifying punishment."

"I know."

He kissed her, slow and warm, tasting of cherries and bread. She kissed him back, her fingers in his beard, the quilt soft beneath her. The sunlight poured over them both, gilding the grass. Twenty years fell away like a coat.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Claire. "Very green."

They missed the evening tasting. Nobody noticed. On the way home, they bought a second quilt.

More married couple romance: The Cruise · Couples Retreat · The Second Honeymoon