He smiled with understanding. “I once read that people who are going through cancer treatment sometimes feel like the disease was a gift, no matter the outcome, whether they beat it or not, because they feel like their spirits are awakened.” He grew quiet and contemplative for a moment. “I’m not sure if I would consider it a gift, myself, because I already feel in awe of the world most of the time, and I don’t want to leave it anytime soon. But who knows what I have yet to learn? Socrates believed that true knowledge exists in knowing that you know nothing. So I guess I’m still just a student of life. Always will be.”
Lillian marveled at the way he spoke about spiritual awakenings and true knowledge. Freddie never spoke that way, even though he considered himself to be a poet. He was very good at rhythm and rhyme, but she couldn’t say that he ever wrote deeply about the heart or the soul. A touch of guilt struck her suddenly for comparing Freddie to Mr. Clark, but she supposed none of that had occurred to her in the past because she had never been terribly spiritual herself. At least not before now.
“I’m learning too,” she said.
Mr. Clark moved closer to Lorenzo’s section—the tallest stack of bottles, which had never been touched by the man who was no longer alive to claim them. “Maybe we should drink one of these.”
Lillian glanced all around. “Are you sure?”
“Why not? They’ll just go to waste otherwise.”
“Have you ever opened any of these?”
“Not yet. I’ve owned the winery for five years, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch them. I always felt like it would be a violation of the sanctity of this room. But life is meant to be enjoyed, don’t you think? As long as we’re not hurting anyone.”
“Yes, I believe it is,” Lillian replied. “And I think that if Lorenzo were here, he would tell us to drink up his wine and not squander it. Not to squander anything. You can’t take it with you, right? And you never know when it will come to an end, in the blink of an eye.”
Mr. Clark considered that. “Why do we always wait for traditional special occasions to enjoy good things? Maybe we just need to create our own special occasions.”
Lillian made a face. “You know, I’ve always objected to Valentine’s Day, because I don’t think a day like that should come only once a year. Every day should be Valentine’s Day. People should say I love you all the time or show their love, even in small ways.”
He nodded. “We’re in agreement, then. It’s decided. Let’s celebrate the fact that we woke up this morning.”
She laughed. “And we’ll raise our glasses to Lorenzo, wherever he is.”
Mr. Clark held up the two bottles he’d already selected. “My hands are full. Will you pick one of them?”
“I’d be honored.” She tried to inspect the labels. “They’re so dusty I can’t tell what’s what, so I’ll just close my eyes and trust the hands of fate.”
A short while later, they were sitting down on the leather sofa in the tasting room. Mr. Clark opened all three bottles and poured three small glasses for each of them—for sampling, just like she did with the tour groups.
“Now we wait for it to breathe,” he said, sitting back and resting his arms along the back of the sofa. “To pass the time, I’ll ask you about your family, Lillian. Any brothers or sisters?”
She sat back also and told him that she was an only child. Then she opened up about her parents’ volatile relationship and how she had spent most of her childhood hiding under the bed when they were shouting and smashing things.
“During my teenage years,” she told him, “I was a textbook case when it came to relationships. I dated boys who treated me exactly like my father treated my mother, because it seemed normal to me. But thankfully, my mother’s lecturing finally sank in.”
“What sort of lecturing?” he asked.
“After my father left, she apologized for not doing a better job protecting me. I think she’ll take that regret to her grave. And then she warned me about boys with bad tempers—her way of protecting my future, I suppose. She told me to run in the opposite direction, even if they were handsome and charming. Then I met Freddie, and he was the exact opposite of what she was talking about.”
Mr. Clark studied Lillian’s expression. “He’s good to you, I take it?”
“Very. He would never hurt a flea. Those were my mother’s words. It’s what she told me to look for in a husband.” Lillian sighed. “So that’s why I’ll never take Freddie for granted. I’ll always appreciate how good he is. And someday, when we have children, I’ll be protective of them.”