Page 1 of Que Será, Syrah

Prologue

Allegra

“C’mon, c’mon,” I mutter impatiently as I frown at my phone, which is taking forever to connect. “Let’s do this already! I can’t miss this call!” I’m reaching for my glass of Albariño, hoping the wine might calm my nerves when—thank you, Jesus! —my sisters’ faces appear on the phone’s small screen.

“Hey, Bee! And Rosy Posey,” I say in greeting forgetting, until I register her slight grimace, how much Rosa’s always hated that nickname. “Sorry I couldn’t make it back,” I find myself babbling. “How are you holding up, Rosy?”

“I’m fine,” Rosa says. “I’m sorry you two couldn’t be here, either.”

I squirm uncomfortably. “You know how it is. I’ll try to be there for the memorial.”

Full disclosure? I am totally lying right now. Having been forced to attend my father’s and grandfather’s funerals at far too young an age, I’m really not anxious to go through another family grief circus.

“You’ve got time,” Rosa says, continuing to push. “We won’t hold it until after harvest season at least. But you really should be here for it, Allegra. After everything Nonna did for us. Pay our respects.”

My lips fold in. “Sure. Of course. I’ll see what I can do.” After harvest season? Fuck me, that’s like…six months away. How am I gonna avoid going back with that kind of lead time? I’m going to have to get creative.

Rosa’s eyes flicker away from the screen as someone clears his throat—our Uncle Geno, I’m betting. And then I do pick up my glass, wishing I’d thought to order something a whole lot stronger. I’d somehow forgotten that I was going to have to deal with my entire family on this call. My sisters. My cousins. My uncle. Ugh.

“Where are you this week, Legs?” Bianca asks curiously. “Is that Greece?”

“Gibraltar,” I say relieved to have moved on to a cheerier topic. I don’t mean to flex, but who wouldn’t want to be me right now? My life is fire. I turn my phone to pan around the square, showing off the picturesque scene around me, feeling as proud as if I’d actually had something to do with it. It’s just after sunset here, but there’s probably enough light for them to see all the al fresco restaurants and wine bars that line Casemates Square; the ones that have been slowly filling with patrons as I’ve waited for this meeting to start. “I might actually get some time to look around before I move on.”

“That’s so cool.”

I nod eagerly. “It really is.” It’s both cool and highly unusual. One of the things they don’t make clear to you when you sign up to work on board a cruise ship is how little free time you’ll have. Not that I mind all that much. I’d rather keep busy, anyway. Besides, I absolutely love my job. The ship I work on has one of the only floating wineries in the world. How cool is that?

I’m about to explain how I came to have this unexpected holiday—how a pod of orcas had attacked yet another hapless yacht (boo-hoo) the remains of which have yet to be towed out of the harbor—when my sisters’ faces disappear and I find myself staring at an all too familiar conference room. My stomach roils with remembered distress. It hasn’t changed at all.

“Excuse me,” I hear Rosa say, no doubt addressing Nonna’s lawyer, Jimmy Davenport. And—as per usual—her placating tone rakes over my nerves. “I know this is a little unorthodox…”

“But so are we!” I can’t help joking.

“Sorry, sir.” Rosa’s sigh comes through loud and clear. “You know my sisters, Bianca and Allegra…”

“Quite well,” he answers, side-eyeing the screen, clocking my eyeroll. James Davenport has been the family lawyer for as long as any of us can remember, and my grandmother’s “admirer” for a lot longer than that. Of course, he knows me!

I wave back, forcing a smile. “Hi, Jimmy!”

Someone laughs—one of my cousins, I assume. Whoever he is, he cuts it off immediately covering the sound with an unconvincing cough. So, yeah…clearly not my uncle.

“As I was saying, Mr. Davenport,” Rosa continues seriously. “Bianca and Allegra are both out of the country, but they wanted to participate in the reading as well.”

“That’s fine,” he responds as he adjusts his glasses. “As long as you don’t disrupt the proceedings.”

“Yes, sir,” Bianca answers promptly, clearly missing the fact that no one would ever suggest such a thing in connection with her. Oh, no; that little warning was entirely for my benefit.

“Of course not!” I answer, butter not melting in my mouth. “It’ll be just like I’m there in the room.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he says, with just a hint of a smile. “Just—be appropriate, please.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” I reply, mimicking my sisters’ good-girl tones as I mime zipping my lips closed.

“Thank you.” Jimmy looks around the room then asks, “Is anyone else joining us virtually? Your mother, perhaps?”

Rosa’s voice is quiet. “No, sir.”

I grit my teeth and say nothing. Even from thousands of miles away, I can feel my uncle’s disapproval, my sisters’ disappointment, my cousins’ discomfort. And yep, that’s Mama for you. Even when she’s not around, even when she’s off doing her own thing, minding her own business, not actively saying or doing anything offensive, she still manages to get on everyone’s nerves. It’s like a gift… Or no, more like a curse, I suppose. And I very much suspect it makes up the main part of her legacy to me.

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