Wines were stored by year and region, and from Eileen’s limited knowledge, Clare’s collection was impressive. Eileen knew this mostly because Clare herself had told her so. Where Eileen only saw bottle after bottle stacked wide and tall on wooden slat shelves, that Christmas three years ago, Clare had spoken of years, vineyards, grapes, seasons, weather even, as she had toured Eileen and Eric through the cellar with an air of pride. Pride that Eileen had noticed, had found interesting even. Why? Because her sister had accomplished many things. Written scores of novels that were devoured by millions, earning her millions upon millions, allowing her to build this incredible oceanfront home—and yet, the most pride Eileen saw her sister display was while showing off her enormous underground cellar filled with wines from all over the world.

Why not her own library filled with her own books?

Why not every room of her home that she’d carved out for herself?

Why not the cars, the clothes, the international life?

“The skill…” Clare had said. “You can’t imagine the work, the toil, the generational knowledge that goes into creating this.” She practically beamed while holding a dusty bottle up, like a newly delivered baby, in the dim light for Eileen and Eric to observe. “I want us to share this one, tonight. To celebrate our family being together.”

Her sister’s gratuitous generosity—the memory made Eileen close her eyes. Eric was so impressed by her sister—starstruck, actually. Her grace, her wealth, her talent… And all of it had made Eileen feel so small.

Now, alone in Clare’s cellar, Eileen searched the overhead labels for a region, Burgundy—Clare had declared as her personal favorite—and traced the racks downward for a year, 1975—the year Clare was born. Eileen pulled a dust-coated bottle from the rack and held it up to the light. She had no idea what it was worth. It could be ten dollars or ten thousand, not that either her sister or Simon would have cared, now or ever.

Eileen followed the rows down many more years and pulled a bottle for their mother’s birth year as well. Ella was still with them, at least physically, but today Eileen felt her loss just as acutely as Clare’s. “For Clare and Mom,” Eileen whispered into the stony cellar. She gripped both bottles by their necks and headed back upstairs. She had no business drinking two bottles of wine alone, certainly not in her current frame of mind, but who knew, maybe Simon would venture forth and need a glass or two for himself.