Beginning Anew

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As Barbara walked with the tour group everyone else complained about the weather. Dark grey clouds hovered, threatening rain, and delivering on that threat more than once during the tour, soaking the group. It wasn't the ideal day for a trip out to a vineyard, but Barbara was grateful for the clouds. They meant Walter wouldn't be cooped up in the van all day.

The group took a break and Barbara trekked back to the vehicle. She was encouraged to find Walter gone. At least he was taking the time to enjoy France a little. That thought made her feel better as she returned to the group, smiling up at the grey sky.

Due to a massive incoming rainstorm, the tour was cut short. Instead of finishing their round of the fields, the group retreated to the distillery. Inside, Barbara listened to the rain hammering down on the roof. The sound was oddly soothing.

She only half-listened to the guide as he explained the long history of the two hundred-year-old establishment. When he resorted to showing them some of the original wine barrels, she stopped paying attention altogether, wishing instead that Walter was here with her.

By the time lunch came, Barbara was starving. She sat down at her table, staring at the single plate.

Some of the other tourists gave her concerned looks.

"Are you here all alone?" an elderly woman at the next table over asked. She had an accent – not surprising. Most people here were from elsewhere in Europe. The accent sounded something close to German, but Barbara wasn't sure. She sighed. Walter would have known.

"Well, I..." Barbara hesitated. "My husband isn't crazy about wine, so he decided to do something else today," she lied.

"Sounds like a terrible husband," the woman said. "Not keeping his own wife company on such a trip."

"It's okay; it's not that bad," Barbara assured her. "In fact... he wanted to come," she admitted sadly, her eyes falling on the empty chair in front of her. "He just... he couldn't be here. He insisted I go without him."

"Oh, I see," the woman said with sympathy in her blue eyes. "Well, that's a shame. Why don't you come sit with us?" she invited, indicating the group of older men and women she was with.

"Oh, no. I couldn't intrude," Barbara objected.

"Meals like this are not meant to be eaten alone," the woman replied. "Come on. We don't bite." This earned a hearty chuckle from several others in the group. "My name's Mila."

Barbara gave in and with a wry smile moved her chair over to their table, taking her plate with her. "I'm... Sarah."

As it turned out, she was right. They were from Germany – a group of pensioners. They took a tour buss all the way out here just to visit the vineyard. Mila was a retired restaurant owner. Her husband Klaus sat beside her.

The group's company was pleasant and warm, and their witty conversation and amusing stories occupied Barbara's mind... until she glanced behind her at the now-empty table.

She sighed. This was the kind of place Walter would have enjoyed – the history, the fine wine. He would have told her story after story about French wine production – and they would have been far more interesting than that dull tour guide's. Then would come the terrible jokes and puns. He knew they were bad, but that made them even funnier.

Now that she thought about it, Walter hadn't told any of those jokes since he'd gotten stuck in his troll form. She missed that.

The food was exquisite, and the chocolate fudge cake on Barbara's plate melted on her tongue. She wished she could take one back for Walter, but he couldn't enjoy it anyway.