Page 113 of Gone With the Wine

“Yes, we can!”

“Never mind Uncle Geno and whatever climbed up his butt crack. The younger generation can still be friends.”

Gianni, Vitto, and Leo arrive bearing wine, of course, and—sweetly—flowers. Rosa takes them and finds a vase for them, setting the arrangement of autumn-colored sunflowers and chrysanthemums on the dining table we’ve already set for seven.

Jake is joining us. The three cousins are all single, although apparently Gianni is seeing someone but it’s not serious so he didn’t invite her. And I…sadly didn’t invite Jansen.

I tried to talk to him about his wife cheating on him and it was clear that he really doesn’t take our relationship seriously. Which is fine! That’s what we agreed to.

Except I was crushed by his dismissal. Dammit! Rosa had a point about catching feelings.

After my mom left, I learned to keep a fence around my heart. I’m not doing well at that and I’m going to end up going back to Argentina with a bruised heart.

So it’s better if Jansen and I cool things a bit.

We all sit around the table for hours, first nibbling on salami, mortadella, prosciutto, cheeses, bread, and warmed marinated olives while we drink delicious wine. A lot of the talk is about wine at first, naturally. It’s something we all share, including Jake. Vitto is now making wine at Belmonte, and we have that in common. There’s lots of laughter, more food, more wine.

“I think we should change the name from Caparelli to something else,” I tell them, slightly tipsy. “Rosa’s not so sure.”

“I like tradition,” she admits.

The three cousins exchange looks.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s just get it out there. Are you pissed at us that Nonna left us Caparelli?”

They don’t answer right away. Then Gianni says, “No. How could we be pissed at you about what she did?”

I tip my head. “Are you mad ather?”

“We were shocked, at first,” Vitto admits. “Nobody had any clue she would do that. And the two wineries have been run as one for years.”

Rosa and I nod. “Understandable.”

“But we’ve talked about it,” Vitto says. “And it’s actually pretty cool that she did that. To continue the Martinelli tradition of wine-making women.”

I suck briefly on my bottom lip, emotion tightening my chest. It means so much to hear that from my cousins. Maybe they do think I can make good wines.

I mean,we. All three of us are involved in this winery. Well, so far, two of us. I mentally roll my eyes again at Allegra’s absence.

“That’s what you could name the winery,” Leo says. “Three sisters. Or le tre sorelle.”

“That’s what Nonna used to call us,” I say wistfully, turning my wine glass in my fingers. I like that idea. I glance at Rosa to gauge her reaction. She looks thoughtful. “Well, it’s something to think about.”

The conversation shifts to memories of Nonna and our childhoods.

“I wish Allegra was here,” I say with a pout.

“Yeah.” Everyone agrees.

“Remember that science fair where she made a tasting box?” Vitto says with a grin.

My eyes widen. “Oh yeah! She put all these essential oils into little bottles to teach people how to taste them in the wine.”

“Like that movie?” Jansen asks. “French Kiss.”

“Exactly!” Leo laughs. “Where do you think she got the idea?”

“It was a great idea, but one of the oils was hemlock.” I make a yikes face at Jansen.

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