Page 17 of Gone With the Wine

The wheel starts up with a small jerk and Bianca jumps.

“This is so fun!” she says with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

We’re all loaded up and making smooth revolutions now.

“Have you been away from here for a while?” I ask. “I got that impression from things you’ve said.”

“Yes. I went away to college in New York, and then I moved to Argentina.”

“Whoa. That’s quite a move.”

“I did my degree in Viticulture & Enology, and then an internship at a winery in Argentina. When I finished, they offered me a job and I decided to stay.”

“Wow.” I’m impressed. “Why are you back?”

Her eyes shadow. “My grandmother died and left my sisters and me her winery. I took a leave to come home and help my sisters figure out what we’re going to do with it.”

“Are you thinking of selling it?”

She’s quiet, gazing out at the view below us. “We can’t sell it. Nonna loved Caparelli. She and my grandfather made some amazing wines there, years ago. It’s been in the family for a long time.” Then she visibly straightens and says crisply, “What about you? You just bought Take Flight. What made you decide to come here and buy a winery?”

“I needed something to do.”

It’s sort of a joke, if you know me, but she doesn’t know me, and also I’m not good at making jokes. She gives me another chilly look. “That doesn’t sound like a very good reason to buy a winery. Running a vineyard and making wine are a complicated business.”

“I’m learning that.”

“You’ve never made wine before?”

“Yeah, I made wine. At home. Also I’ve drank a lot.”

Another joke that lands like a bowling ball.

“Sure,” she says, more scorn in her voice. “That’ll help a lot.”

“I’m not making a good impression on you, am I.”

She blinks. Then her lips twist briefly. “I’m sorry. The Wright family owned Take Flight for generations. It’s hard seeing someone else take over it.”

“I know. I’ve talked to Jake.”

She starts. “You have? Oh. Of course you have.”

“Just to be clear, I didn’t buy it out from under them. They put it up for sale for their own reasons. I just happened to be the lucky buyer.”

She levels a long, lukewarm look on me. “You’re right. That’s not a reason to resent you. I’m sorry again.” She sighs. “I’m…well, I’m not entirely happy to be back here. My grandma died. My family is pissed at us because she left the winery to us. My uncle is apparently trying to sabotage us.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. My little sister can’t be bothered to come and help deal with this. And, truthfully…I was a bit nervous about this Ferris wheel.”

“No? Really?”

She shoots me a slitty-eyed look.

I shrug. I admire her honesty. “I’m kinda surprised you’re nervous.” She doesn’t seem like the fearful type. She seems confident. Self-assured. Blowing off to Argentina must have taken guts.

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