Page 76 of Snowbound with the Vineyard Owner
"This is... extraordinary," I admit, professional admiration overriding any attempt at a casual response. "The implications for climate adaptation alone?—"
"That's part of it," he agrees, eyes lighting with that passionate intensity that first drew me to him. "As traditional growing regions face increasing climate instability, these hybrids could offer a path forward for regions previously considered marginal."
"Have you documented your methods? The crossings, the selection criteria?"
He nods toward a weatherproof container secured to oneof the end posts. "Everything's in there. Notebook, USB drive with data backups, even DNA samples from each generation."
"This could revolutionize high-altitude viticulture," I tell him, my mind racing with possibilities. "Especially if you can replicate the results in other microclimates."
"That's where I've hit a wall," he admits. "I can maintain this test plot alone, but expanding to prove the concept would require resources I don't have."
"You need partners." I pace between the rows, professional excitement building. "Research collaborations, possibly grant funding."
"All things that require stepping back into a spotlight I've been avoiding."
The vulnerability in this admission touches me. Here is the heart of Dominic's conflict—his vision requires exactly what his trauma has made most difficult.
"You wouldn't have to do it alone," I say carefully.
His eyes meet mine, something like hope flickering in their depths. Before he can respond, the sound of an approaching vehicle draws our attention.
"Expecting visitors?" I ask.
Dominic shakes his head, expression shifting from open to guarded as we return to the main property.
In the driveway sits an elegant black SUV I don't recognize. Beside it stands a tiny, silver-haired woman leaning on a carved wooden cane, her posture suggesting both advanced age and indomitable will. Merlot dances around her excitedly, clearly a familiar friend.
"Eleanor," Dominic says, surprise evident in his voice. "I didn't know you were coming up."
"Clearly," the woman replies dryly. "Or you wouldn't have been hiding up on that experimental plot you think no one knows about."
This, then, is EleanorMorgan, former winery owner, and the subject of my critical review years ago. My stomach tightens with apprehension.
"And you must be Elena Santiago," Eleanor says, turning piercing blue eyes on me. "The sommelier who thought my '15 Riesling lacked structure and my Cabernet Franc was 'ambitiously uneven.'"
I straighten my spine, meeting her gaze directly. "That's correct. Though I'd add that I also called your rosé 'a promising glimpse of Colorado's potential' and your approach to high-altitude viticulture 'pioneering if imperfect.'"
For a moment, Eleanor's expression remains stern. Then, unexpectedly, she laughs—a rich, genuine sound that transforms her face.
"She quotes herself verbatim, Dominic. I like that. No backpedaling."
"Eleanor prefers honesty to flattery." Dominic relaxes slightly beside me.
"Flattery is for fools and politicians," Eleanor agrees, gesturing toward the house with her cane. "Now help an old woman inside before my joints freeze. These mountains get colder every year, or perhaps it's just my ancient bones complaining."
Inside, Eleanor settles regally in a chair by the fire, declining refreshments with a wave of her hand.
"I didn't drive all the way up this godforsaken mountain for cookies, Dominic. I came to see what's got Hunter in such a state about your wines and meet the woman who's apparently convinced you to rejoin civilization."
"I haven't—" Dominic begins.
"Ruth Fletcher called me," Eleanor interrupts. "Said you brought Ms. Santiago to The PickAxe. Voluntarily. In daylight hours. That constitutes a miracle worthy of investigation."
Despite her caustic delivery, there's unmistakable affection in Eleanor's manner. Shereminds me of my grandmother—sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, missing nothing behind her façade of aging eccentricity.
"Now," she continues, fixing me with that penetrating gaze, "Ruth says you're from some fancy restaurant group in San Francisco. Here to acquire exclusivity for Dominic's wines?"
"That was my original purpose," I confirm.
