would have provided a tasty snack for Cormac, my Irish Wolfhound,’ he countered. ‘If you will excuse me, Señorita Gonzales, I believe the MC is about to call us to our tables …’
Grace sat down, relieved to have the woman sitting next to her introduce herself right away. Elias, Grace’s elderly employer and mentor, was sitting on Grace’s other side, but he had been immediately swept into greeting old friends and colleagues, and Grace was keen to prove that she could do this by herself. This annual event in celebration of the wine industry was Grace’s first major outing since becoming blind. It was also the first big outing for her guide dog, Buddy, and Grace was as nervous for Buddy as she was for herself. She hoped they would both get through the evening without making too many blunders.
While Grace was chatting easily to the lady at her side she took the chance to discreetly map the tablecloth and all the various hazards confronting her. A battalion of glasses was waiting to be knocked over—and then there was the cutlery she had to get right. And the napkin she had to unfold without knocking anything over. There were a lot of different-sized plates, along with groups of condiments and sugar bowls. The potential for sugar in her soup and salt in her coffee loomed large.
‘Here’s the pepper, if you want it,’ the lady next to her remarked, flagging up the arrival of the soup. ‘I like pepper on everything,’ she added, ‘though you may want to taste first. It might need salt—’
Grace felt a rush of emotion as the woman placed a second container close to her hand, where Grace could feel it. Small kindnesses counted for a lot now she was blind. They meant she could leave the house and do things like this. Elias was right. All she had to do was buckle on her courage each morning along with Buddy’s harness. It was harder doing that sometimes than talking about it, but it helped to know there were some really nice people in the world—and thank goodness for them.
‘You work for one of the great men in our industry,’ the older woman commented, obviously impressed when Grace explained that Elias had trained her to be a sommelier.
‘I guess Elias is the closest thing I’ve got to a father figure,’ Grace admitted. It wasn’t enough to describe Elias as her employer when he’d done so much for her.
‘You lost your father?’ the elderly lady prompted gently.
‘Yes,’ Grace murmured, growing sombre as she thought back.
‘I lost my father when I was very young. You’re lucky to have Elias on your side. He’s a kind man and a good man, and there aren’t many of those around—though I’m sure you’ll meet a good man of your own one day and get married.’
‘Oh, no!’ Grace exclaimed. ‘I could never do that.’
‘Why ever not?’ Grace’s companion demanded as Buddy barked at the change in Grace’s voice.
‘I wouldn’t want to be a burden,’ Grace explained.
‘A burden?’ her new friend exclaimed. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
Grace would run a mile rather than be a burden to anyone. She’d felt the same way when her mother had found happiness again after her father’s death and had wanted to marry a man with children of his own. Grace hadn’t wanted to get in the way of her mother’s happiness, and had taken the marriage as her cue to leave home for good. Then, when her sight had deteriorated, she had become doubly determined not to be a trouble to anyone.
But she wasn’t about to spoil this evening with dark thoughts. ‘I’ve still got a lot to learn and a lot to get used to,’ Grace said lightly, ‘so I think perhaps I’d better get myself sorted out before I go looking for love,’ She laughed, realizing what she’d said. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I let love come looking for me.’ She stilled, feeling a warm, papery hand covering hers.
‘You’re a brave girl, Grace. You deserve the best,’ Grace’s new friend insisted. ‘And don’t you dare settle for anything less.’
Nacho was growing increasingly impatient—although as Annalisa shrugged her slender shoulders and walked away he was forced to ask himself when the chance to accept a free gift in such attractive packaging had become so meaningless.
The past had made him hard and cynical, Nacho concluded. Most of the women he encountered seemed so obvious and shallow, and they all wanted the same thing: someone—anyone—to take care of them, financially and emotionally. And, having spent his teens and twenties caring for his siblings, he found his emotional bank was drained.
His married brothers often talked of how lucky they were to have found a soul mate. He always laughed and asked what chance they thought he stood. If they answered him he never listened. He didn’t believe in fate or luck. Hard work brought results, and he didn’t have time to waste searching for a woman. The only woman who could possibly stir his interest now would have to be strong and independent.
He cast one last look around the room, searching for the blonde again, but she seemed to have gone. He could be doing better things with his time, and as soon as politeness allowed he made his excuses and left.
On the drive back to the family penthouse in London he couldn’t shake the feeling that something of significance had happened at the dinner, though what that might have been eluded him.
Working in a vast wine warehouse was easy for Grace now she had Buddy to guide her. The big Golden Retriever could happily steer Grace across London, and navigating the now familiar maze of passages at the warehouse was a breeze for him, so Grace was curious when he started to growl.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ she said, bending low to give him a pat. The strange thing was she could feel something too. It was the same sense of foreboding she got when there was thunder in the air.
Since her sight had failed Grace had come to rely on her other senses, and they had quickly become more developed. But apart from the thundering of her heart she could hear nothing now. ‘We’ve only got one more section to check,’ she reassured her guide dog. ‘Take me to Argentina, Buddy …’
Hearing one of his command words, Buddy led Grace unerringly to the section in the warehouse where wines from Argentina were stored. If Grace had said Spain, or France, or New World, the highly trained guide dog would have known exactly where to take her. To make doubly sure there could never be a mistake each section was labelled in Braille as well as in script.
Grace had had to learn a lot of new things since losing her sight to a rare virus. At first numbness and denial at the bleakness of her prognosis had swept over her, keeping her chained to the bed, to the house, but then anger and frustration had taken over, and they had demanded action. She’d decided that didn’t want to spend the rest of her life blundering around and falling over things, and had finally determined she would learn to trust the hated stick.
‘The Stick’ had sat in a corner of Grace’s bedroom since her return from hospital, where a therapist had assured her in no uncertain terms that if she didn’t use it to get out of the house she would spend her life in darkness.
‘But I am in darkness!’ Grace had yelled in angry desperation.
There had been a lot of screaming and yelling as well as quiet sobbing through those dark, difficult times. It had changed nothing. Having Elias in the background, nagging her constantly to get on with her life, had worked, and finally picking up ‘The Stick’ had changed her life. It had been her first step towards independence.
But
