He tiptoes to one of the tables, pulls a chair for me and we sit, not before looking around to see if we’re going to be chased away from here too. We’re pretend drinking and dining, and laughing like silly kids, when we hear a noise behind us.

“You can’t be here. It’s a private event,” says a man dressed up in a red uniform.

“We were just—” says Ethan, and we both burst out laughing, and run for it.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I say to Ethan when we’re back on the train and en route to our next destination.

“What are they going to do? Tell on us to the tour guide?”

I giggle.

Our second stop is Raymond Vineyards. This time, I’m the instigator who takes us through an ‘off-limits’ wine cellar. We find ourselves surrounded by stainless steel tanks, mirrors, and tens of scrutinizing eyes. It turns out I’m better at sneaking in and out, since nobody ran after us, so Ethan put me in charge of our third and final stop.

“I’ll just go where you tell me to,” he says as we’re enjoying the new course our waiter brings us on the train, in between stops. A delicious meal, by the way. Asparagus bisque with white truffle oil and aged parmesan with mixed greens, mission figs, spiced walnuts, and blue cheese. Yum! We also have a glass—or a quarter of glass each—of rose wine. Equally delicious.

Seventy-Nine

Inglenook is the last stop. It’s a majestic chateau with a breathtaking vineyard, once owned by a Finnish sea captain and later restored by Francis Ford Coppola, according to the guide. There’s something magical about this place, with its terrace that reminds me of Italian piazzas in old movies and mysterious infinity caves like you’d see on exotic islands.

It’s dark out, and the estate is lit by hundreds of fairy lights. A small party is happening on a brick platform at the edge of the property. Ethan and I sit on the lawn, both a bit tired, listening to the slow music and watching couples dancing.

“I’ve lived in California all my life, and it’s my first time seeing this place,” he says.

“You didn’t know about it?”

The music stops for a moment before the next song begins. The night is silent around us, except for a lone cricket in the tall grass.

“No, I did. I just didn’t want to come here alone.”

Lonely Ethan. I find it hard to picture. He has it all; why wouldn’t he also have someone?

“What about your ex-wife?” I ask.

“What about her?”

“I don’t know. Just wondering why you didn’t bring her here.”

“Isabella and I were wrong for each other from the start. Nothing in common.”

“Do you think you need to have something in common with the person you’re with?”

“At least your values, yes. Principles. I’m not talking about a shared passion for stamp collecting. Just the high-level stuff.”

I nod. Maybe they had opposing views regarding kids or careers. I’m not sure.