A small knot of people hovered around a counter where a young man was holding up a glass of red wine. “As you know, our family vineyard is one of the oldest in the county,” he said. “We do things differently here. We take pride in the old, slow processes, using the original techniques of our ancestors.”
“Do you have folks stomping the grapes with their bare feet?” an older man called out.
“Not usually.” The young man behind the counter chuckled. “That’s actually been outlawed in the US. But sometimes in the fall, my mom and some of her girlfriends will stomp on some grapes. Just for fun. And they have a pretty good time too.”
“You actually usethatfor wine?” a woman asked, sounding concerned.
“Sure, but not for public use. It’s only for family,” he assured her.
“Doyoureally drink that?” She pursed her lips.
The young man smiled. “My parents do. To be honest, it’s not my thing. But that old process was proven to be perfectly sanitary in Spain. The delicate balance of acid, sugar, and alcohol prevents any human pathogens from surviving in the wine.”
“Wouldn’t it taste like dirty feet?” the old man called out.
“You’d have to ask my parents.” He laughed. “But back to your question about crushing and pressing. We do still use an old-world process. After the grapes are crushed in oak racks, we use a batch press. That’s a wooden basket where the crushed grapes are tightly packed to separate the juice from the skin and debris. It’s considered a gentler way because there’s less movement and stress to the grapes. And it results in a gentler wine.”
“You know so much about this,” a white-haired woman said. “Where did you learn everything?”
“I did take some courses at University of California.” He winked at her. “But most of it was learned from growing up in the vineyard. I’ve observed my parents and grandparents making wine for as long as I can remember. I guess it’s in my blood.”
The old man made a joke about having wine in his blood, but as Brynna studied the fair-haired young man in front, clean-cut and sober, she thought he looked nothing like Leroy. And yet it seemed possible. Based on what he’d just said about his family, he could be Leroy’s son. And that bit about his mom stomping grapes ... well, it just seemed to confirm that Leroy was happily married with a family. She felt more intrusive than ever. What on earth was she doing here? And what was the best and quickest way to escape?
With Jan and Mike seemingly transfixed by the young man’s monologue about old-world wine making, Brynna decided to slip back to the car. Even if it was locked, she could sit on the bumper and just wait. Anything to get as far from here as possible before it was too late.
Yet as she slipped out of the barn and into the bright afternoon sunlight, she didn’t want to go cower by Jan’s SUV. Something about this place intrigued her. She glanced around but didn’t see a soul anywhere, and everything out here felt quiet and peaceful. The house and other buildings appeared quiet too. So, with no one around to notice her presence, she decided to poke around a bit. Not snooping, exactly. Just exploring. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for but suspected she hoped for a peek at Leroy’s wife. Just out of curiosity.
Instead of heading toward the tall stone house, like she wanted to do but knew was too risky, she strolled in the other direction. Trying to appear casual, she walked past a large storage building that she suspected was used for wine. And then she passed a smaller building with a sign that read OFFICEANDSALES. Like everything else, it seemed deserted.
“Can I help you?”
Brynna spun around to see a young woman peering curiouslyat her. She had dark curly hair and big brown eyes. Beneath her floral sundress, she was clearly expecting a baby.
“I’m sorry.” Brynna started to back up. “I was just looking—”
“Oh, you must be here for the job.” The woman’s countenance brightened.
For some reason Brynna just nodded. Hoping to look less suspicious and nosy, she forced a friendly smile.
“Great.” The woman stepped forward and stuck out her hand, which Brynna shook weakly. “I’m Sophie. My dad was supposed to do the interview, but he had to go to a meeting at my aunt’s house. So I’m going to handle it for him.” She unlocked the office door. “Come on in. We got AC last year, so it’s lots cooler in here. Believe me, I need it.” She patted her belly. “This little guy gets me pretty heated up.”
Unsure of how to get out of this, and yet exceedingly curious about this young woman, Brynna followed her inside. But before she could clarify the situation, Sophie took over the conversation.
“And just to reassure you, I know what we want for our office manager because it’s been my job the last eight years. I started the year after my mom died. Just a year before Garth and I got married. He’s five years older than me and a real expert. His family used to own a small vineyard up north, but sold out when he was studying to be a vintner. Dad hired him as our winemaker and right now he’s playing host at the tasting room. He loves that.” She continued to talk nonstop as she adjusted the blinds and eased herself into a chair behind an oak desk. The only information Brynna latched on to was that Sophie’s mom had died. If Leroy was the dad she spoke of, did that mean he was a widower now? She shook her head. Even if he was, what business was it of hers?
Sophie leaned back in the chair, locking her fingers over her rounded midsection. “Dad didn’t think I was old enough to handle this job at first. I mean, I was barely twenty, but I’d taken some business classes at community college and then I took more online. Anyway, I sort of figured everything out and I set up a new systemand managed to bring our winery into the new millennium—and it was about time too.” Her cheerful expression faded. “I’m not trying to put my mom down. Not at all. She used to handle everything in here. And she was really good at it too. Mom was organized and meticulous, but she did it all the old-fashioned way—you know, with books and ledgers.” She sighed. “Super time-consuming and convoluted.”
“I can imagine.” Brynna nodded, wondering how to get out of this ... and yet at the same time fascinated at hearing this family’s story.
“I guess I should be asking you about yourself.” Sophie grinned. “Dad always calls me the chatterbox of the family.”
Brynna smiled nervously, trying to think of a transition that could lead to a graceful exit. “When’s your baby due, Sophie?”
“Early August. But I’m big as a house already. I guess it’s because it’s my third pregnancy.”
Brynna was surprised. “You have other children?”
“Yep. Two other rug rats. Lucy is five going on fifteen, and Addison just turned three.”
