A/N: This little chapter takes place (mostly) in a wine cellar. Recently, the very talented Edward Carson wrote a canon one-shot about Charles Carson in a wine cellar. It's excellent – go and read it! Sometimes people in the fandom get similar ideas without telling each other. It's like we're all on the same wavelength...
I hope you like the second part of this "Jolene" AU. It's from the perspective of the second son. If you have any suggestions, or things you would like to see, let me know. I don't intend for this to turn into a linear story; just snippets of life. But I've been doing this long enough to know that "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men / Gang aft a-gley".
*First grade / third grade – In the U.S., first grade is the first level in school above kindergarten. The children are usually 6-7 years old. Third graders are 8-9 years old.
The smell of bacon and coffee reached Chris's nose when Da opened the door. But it was the donuts underneath the counter that made his mouth water. He pressed his nose against the glass.
His favorite donut was the one with sprinkles.
"Not now, Christopher," Da put his big hand on Chris's shoulder. "You can have one later. After we're finished."
"I'll put it aside for you." Alfred smiled at Chris from behind the counter. "Don't worry, it's yours."
Chris sucked in his breath.
He didn't want to wait.
Aunt Beryl came out of the kitchen behind Alfred. She put her hands on her hips and straightened her glasses.
"Who's this young man here? You're not tempted by the apple turnovers, so you're not Eddie. And you're not drooling over the chocolate éclairs. So not Alex…no, this boy wants the sprinkled donut, so he must be-"
"ME!" shouted Chris, jumping up in the air. Every Saturday morning it was the same. Aunt Beryl came around the counter and gave him a hug.
"You," she rubbed his head. "The one and only Chris! Alfred made that donut especially just for you, early this morning." She straightened up. "I see you brought your old father with you."
Da groaned. "I was offered the senior discount once…"
Aunt Beryl laughed. "You're not the only one with more wrinkles, Charlie Carson! Age catches up with us all. Well come on," she untied the knot of her flour-covered apron, taking it off. "You both had better come with me. The sooner you're done, the sooner your lad can have his donut." She winked at Chris.
Alfred held out his hand as Chris walked behind the counter. They fist-bumped.
Miss Lucy, Aunt Beryl's niece, grinned at him. The fryer crackled in front of her. Ivy waved from the corner sink.
"Where's Daisy?" He asked her.
"She's working on a paper that's due Monday," Ivy called. She smiled when he looked confused. "She has a lot of homework, so she's doing that today. She'll be here tomorrow, though, and next week as usual."
"Oh. Okay," he said. Sometimes Alex had homework.
Third grade was hard, his older brother said. Not like first grade.*
Chris was glad he was still in first grade.
"Keep up," Da called. Chris scurried after him and Aunt Beryl.
She unlocked a door after they had gone through the kitchen. Handing the keys to Da, she said, "I'll leave you to it, then. The shipment came on Thursday. I checked it, of course, but I know you'll want to make sure it's all there."
Chris waited until Da had opened the door wide and turned on the light. There were a lot of stairs to get to the bottom.
Into the wine cellar.
The overhead lights reflected on the many glass bottles. Some had yellowish liquid (which Da called white), and some had dark purple (which Da called red).
Every Saturday morning since the spring he had come there with Da.
Alex didn't want to come. He would rather play his guitar, or read, or watch TV. Eddie would rather watch cartoons with Alex, or play outside.
Chris was different.
He loved going with Da and helping him.
He kept his jacket on. It was cold in the wine cellar, even in the summer.
Da pulled out his glasses and picked up the list from the shelf. In the middle of the narrow cellar was a table. On it and beneath it were several crates.
"How many of the Joseph Phelps are there? There should be four," Da said. Chris scanned the crates on the table. It was easy for him to read what they said. He was tall for his age.
That was what Dr. Clarkson and Mam said.
"One…two…" he hummed under his breath and peered underneath the table, "…and there's one…and another one! Four!"
"Good. What kind are they?" Da looked over his glasses, grinning.
"Um…" Chris could read well, but the wines had strange names. Which were hard to say right. He squinted at the crates on the table. "These are Cabernet Sav…Sav…"
"Cabernet Sauvignon," Da finished. He nodded in approval when Chris repeated it correctly. "It's not easy to say, is it? Not many seven-year-olds can. Go on, you're doing well. Be careful you don't hit your head on the table."
Chris ducked his head to read the other crates on the floor. "This one is a Cabernet Sauvignon, and that one is a Insignia."
"Very good! You remembered that one," Da's eyes twinkled. "It's been a long time since we've gotten that."
He continued going down the list while Chris counted. Then he opened the crates and very carefully removed the bottles, setting them on the table so Chris could count those.
They finished counting, and Da started checking bottles that were already on the shelves. He called it doing "invitory". Chris helped him for a while.
Before he got bored.
He sat on the little stool in the corner and talked to Da. He wanted to play with Da's phone, but he wasn't allowed.
Mam sometimes let them play with her phone. But not Da.
No matter how hard they begged.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Da said, reaching higher on one of the shelves.
Chris leaned forward. "Yeah! What is it?" Da raised his eyebrows.
"If I tell you, you can't tell Alex or Eddie. They don't know. Your mother does."
That didn't surprise Chris. Mam knew everything. "What's the surprise?"
"You know that Mr. Branson has been dating his girlfriend for a while now."
Chris nodded. He liked Miss Sybil. She was just as much fun as Uncle Tom.
"Well, she'll be visiting next week, and when she's here, Mr. Branson's going to ask her to marry him."
"WHAT!?" Chris yelled. He fell off of the stool, and flopped onto the floor. "Really?"
Da laughed at him. "Yes, really. What do you think?"
"It's good!" Uncle Tom was always happy, but he seemed really happy when Miss Sybil came to visit. "Wait…" he sat up. "He won't…move away after they get married, will he? She doesn't live here!"
"He will move. But only to a bigger home," Da told him. "Miss Crawley doesn't live very far away now. You know she works at the same hospital as Dr. Clarkson. She and Mr. Branson will live somewhere between there and here. He's not leaving the hotel," he said as Chris climbed onto the stool again. "He likes it here, don't worry."
They both heard a funny buzzing sound at the same time.
"My phone," Da said, turning to glance at the table. "Where did I put my phone? It's not there…"
Chris heard the buzzing behind him. He reached back and picked up the phone.
"It's Uncle Thomas!" he yelled. "He wants to FaceTime!"
"Go on and answer it before he hangs up," Da said. "I'm nearly done."
Chris hit the green button. A moment later Uncle Thomas appeared on the screen.
"Hello!" he said. His eyes were wide. "Just the lad I was hoping to see! But how did you get your Da's phone? He won't like it if he finds you with it – and he'll probably blame me!"
"I will not," boomed Da on the other side of the cellar. "For once." Chris laughed.
"He told me to answer the phone when I saw it was you. We're in the wine cellar."
"Ah, that's why it looks so dark. I should have known you'd be there – it's Saturday morning!"
"Where are you?" Chris asked. He could see blue sky behind his godfather. His black hair blew in the wind. Uncle Thomas smiled.
"Where I usually am on a Saturday morning." He flipped the picture so Chris could see. The ocean crashed onto the beach on the left. Uncle Thomas walked along a wooden sidewalk. His dog Mimi trotted in front of him on her leash.
"Ooh," Chris said. He clutched the phone, staring at the ocean. "Wow!"
Uncle Thomas lifted his dog off the ground. "Who's that?" he asked her. "Someone wants to see you."
"Hi, Mimi!" Chris waved. He grinned when the dog barked back at him. "Where's Uncle Eduardo?"
"He had a breakfast meeting in Palm Beach this morning. He said to tell you hello." Uncle Thomas put Mimi down and switched the picture back to himself.
"Da?" Chris looked up. He suddenly had an idea. "Can I tell Uncle Thomas the secret? He's far away."
Da continued his work. "Go on and tell him."
"What secret?" Uncle Thomas's eyes lit up. "I love secrets…is your Mam pregnant again? Or is Anna?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "No-o," he stretched the word out. He didn't know why grown-ups got so excited about babies. They couldn't walk or play. They couldn't even talk. Aunt Anna and Uncle John's twin girls, Nina and Nora, only babbled to each other. "Uncle Tom's going to ask Miss Sybil to marry him!"
"Well, it's about time he did! That's wonderful! But why is it secret?"
"She doesn't know he's going to ask her. Next week, when she visits."
"Ah, I see." Uncle Thomas asked him about school. Da came over and they talked a little. Mostly about when Uncle Thomas was coming to pick up Chris for spring break.
Chris was so excited about it. It was going to be his first real trip. And it wasn't to Lexington, or Chicago. Uncle Thomas was taking him to Florida. He lived there with Uncle Eduardo.
Chris was a little nervous about it. He was excited to fly on an airplane, and to play on the beach.
But he had never been away from home without his family.
Well, Uncle Thomas and Uncle Eduardo and Mimi were family, too.
But they weren't Mam and Da. Or Alex and Eddie.
Still, he knew he'd have fun. He always had fun with Uncle Thomas.
It was cool that his godfather was only taking him to Florida.
Like he was the only one who helped Da in the wine cellar.
That was just for him.
Christopher.
He said goodbye, and Da ended the phone call. They went back up the stairs. It was much warmer right next to the kitchen. Da turned off the light in the wine cellar and locked the door.
They picked up a box of yummy things before they left the restaurant. An apple turnover for Eddie, a chocolate éclair for Alex. Some lemon cookies for Mam. Aunt Beryl asked Da what he wanted, but he said he didn't want anything.
While he paid Alfred, she snuck a fresh glazed donut into the box and winked at Chris. "He can never resist something sweet," she whispered. "Like your Mam. Or my baking."
Da had just turned the keys in the truck when Chris couldn't stand it anymore.
"Can I eat my donut now? Pleeeeeease?"
"All right," laughed Da as they pulled out of the parking lot. "But use a napkin. They're in the box."
Chris watched the trees fly past as they drove home. His sprinkled donut was so good. He didn't notice the crumbs he left on the backseat, or on the floor.
Or the icing around his mouth.
He was happy.