Page 73 of Gone With the Wine

Chapter16

Bianca

Afew days later, I’m much better. I’m not done the antibiotics, but I have to take all of them, I know. I feel well enough to be at work though, and I’m worried about what I’m going to find. Jake and Rosa update me on everything that’s been done, and they’ve managed things fine, and over at Bar Down, I discover that Jansen has, too.

Wow. Things have gone smoothly. I review Jansen’s notes, impressed.

“You did great,” I tell him.

He dips his chin. “Thanks.”

We’re in the lab along with Antonio discussing punchdown schedules. I’ve been thinking about him for days. Okay, maybe not when I was really sick, but when I started feeling better, I remembered his kisses and how I melted inside and how good he tasted. And I remember his tenderness and concern when I was sick.

I study his stubble-shadowed jaw, sculped cheekbones, and firm lips. And I melt a little again.

Our eyes meet. He’s burning me up with his eyes, and the tension that arcs between us has heat rippling in my belly.

Diego tromps in. “We have a problem.”

I blink, yanked back to reality.

“Some of the grapes in block ten have black rot.” He holds up a bunch of grapes. Most of the grapes are small, dark, and withered.

I stare at them, my stomach cramping. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Cab sauv, right?”

“Yep.”

“This doesn’t sound good,” Jansen says.

“Black rot is not good,” I confirm.

“Some of the pickers discovered it this morning,” Diego says.

“What did they do with the grapes?” I ask.

“They stopped picking right away and brought these to me.”

“We should go have a look.”

We leave Antonio in the cellar and Jansen, Diego, and I head out to block ten, a bit of a hike. Vineyards bigger than a few acres are partitioned into “blocks”, which usually grow a single varietal, and also divide different soil types or take into account the grade of the land and things like roads, fences, or streams. Block ten is only two acres, with about two thousand vines, a smaller section.

I sense Jansen’s worry as we tramp through the vines and we keep exchanging glances. I don’t blame him. Black rot is a fungus that’s a serious disease of both cultivated and wild grapes. It attacks all the green parts of the vine—leaves, shoots, stems, tendrils, and fruit. Obviously the most damaging consequence is to the grapes. It can result in complete crop losses.

I want to reach out and grab his hand and squeeze it. But I can’t do that.

We still haven’t had the “dinner” he promised me days ago. Every time we’re together I think about what I missed and when it’s going to happen and how good it’s going to be. I’ve never wanted someone like this.

I’ve had boyfriends. I liked them. I was attracted to them. But I’ve never felt this eagerness to see him, like, every time I come over to Bar Down. I’ve never felt this desperate, intense need layered with affection and admiration.

I was thinking tonight might be the night…especially with how he was looking at me earlier…but now this.

We check out the vines. As I move up one aisle and down the other side, I find numerous infected plants.

“I don’t know why I didn’t notice this,” Diego mutters. “I should have seen the lesions on the leaves.”

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