Page 20 of Que Será, Syrah

“Well, it is, actually,” I can’t help but point out. “I mean, here I am, trying to put this whole tasting room together with no budget whatsoever and you’ve got this perfect piece of memorabilia just lying around being wasted. And instead of using it in a way that makes sense, you want to hide it in the kitchen, where no one can see it except us.”

“Anniversary present,” Rosa enunciates slowly. “From my husband.”

Who you didn’t even know you had, I think to myself. Who ghosted you for an entire decade. But I guess we’re just ignoring all of that now. So instead, I say, “Tasting Room. No budget.”

Rosa sighs. “I know. I heard you. And I like what you’ve done. Really—it looks terrific. But don’t you think it’s a little premature? Not to mention that maybe you should have talked to us about it first?”

Oh, like you and Bee talked to me about everything you did this summer? Or anything you did? I think to myself. “I tried to talk to you. This morning. But no one had time. And no, it’s never too early to start marketing. That’s doubly true if you’re right about Geno and he really is trying to sabotage us.”

“He really is trying to sabotage us,” Jake assures me—which does nothing to reassure me that he’s a disinterested party. ‘We,’ Jake? Really? I am so, so screwed.

Before I can even formulate a response, Bianca (who’s been looking increasingly distracted) suddenly asks, “What’s that they’re singing?”

“Singing?” I ask, because sometimes it takes me awhile to process what someone has said.

“That song,” Bianca says. “What is it?”

“Oh, that. I call it the Bentonite Slurry Song. I just taught it to them today. It’s cute, right?”

“The what now?” Rosa asks.

“Bentonite Slurry,” I repeat, blinking in surprise at all the blank stares I’m getting. It’s not possible that none of them know what I’m talking about, because even the interns got the gist. I roll my eyes and start to sing, “If you think that your wine’s looking blurry, you should try using bentonite slurry. You should try using bentonite slurry to clear up the grime. Yeasts, and haze, and tannins will scurry when you add that bentonite slurry; when you add that phyllosilicate slurry, to your vats of wine.”

“That actually all makes sense,” Bianca murmurs, speaking to Jansen, who’s looking perplexed.

“Yeah?” He shoots her a smile. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

I frown at them both. “It’s about wine, so of course, you should take her word for it,” I tell Jansen—not at all happy that he’s lightweight dissing my sister’s wine expertise. “And of course, it makes sense,” I tell Bianca. “I pay attention.” Then I launch into the bridge—which is even more accurate, and therefore even more likely to impress her. “Just three TBs to a pint of H2O is a pretty good ratio. Bring your water to a boil, before you pour the powder in. Then blend it up smoothly.

“Can’t be done ’til you’ve completed fermentation and moved your wine to a cooler destination. Stir it well but avoid agitation, and your wine will shine! You’ll have glassy, glossy, clear-as-crystal, radiant wine.”

“You wrote that?” Rosa asks when I finish.

I nod. “The lyrics, yeah.”

“It’s really good,” Bianca says, as Rosa nods agreement.

“Thanks,” I say, shrugging casually and not pointing out that their response would have warmed my heart a whole lot more if they could only have managed to look and sound even a little less surprised.

Chapter 5

Allegra

It’s two days later and my sisters have finally made time in their schedule to talk with me about our plans for the winery. Money is an issue—which I totally get. There’s none coming in, at the moment. And it’ll be next Spring—at the very, very earliest—before we have any wine to sell. And that’s only if Bianca decides to make a Rosé, which so far she’s been reluctant to commit to.

Rosa doesn’t like the idea of investing too much (read any) of our money on nonessentials until the winery is earning money back. She’s coming off a season of repeated crises and unexpected expenses and that, not surprisingly, has made her cautious.

Bianca doesn’t think it’s smart to sacrifice the quality of our wines for speed. Our wines—her wines, really—are what we’re counting on to make our reputation. And, like they say, you don’t get a second chance to make a good first impression.

I don’t disagree with either of them, but there have to be at least a few things we can do now to start bringing in money and getting people excited about our brand.

So far, they haven’t liked any of the ideas I’ve suggested.

“How about this,” I say. “I read about this winery in Texas that has a rhinoceros on its grounds. And they’re starting a rhino preserve there as well?—”

“Where on the winery grounds?” Bianca asks, staring at me above the rim of her coffee cup. “I assume they don’t keep it in the vineyards?”

“I don’t know where, exactly,” I say, but then Rosa interrupts.

---