Page 27 of Rare Blend
“Where are we going?” I ask, completely circumventing her attempt to talk about anything deeper than surface level.
Disappointment flashes on her face, but she quickly recovers. “I thought we would start at Ledger and then maybe check out Benton Winery after that. Those are the two most popular ones in town. And I may be bias, since Leanne, Jack’s wife, is my best friend, but Ledger wines are the absolute best.”
I nod, turning my head like the view from the window is too captivating to do anything but stare at it.
She gasps, and then I feel her head turn to me. “I didn’t even ask you. Do you drink? If you don’t, we can do something else.”
I laugh gently. She looked cool as a cucumber, but I’m starting to think she’s just as nervous as I am. “I’m not a big drinker, but I do drink. And I don’t know much about wine, so this will be fun.” My need to people-please outweighs my disinterest.
She relaxes, easing her grip on the wheel.
While the cottage I’m staying in is on the winery property, I have yet to see the actual winery. Jenn drives along a curved road in what feels like half a circle until a large, open, iron gate appears, with wrought iron lettering readingLedger Estate Winery and Vineyards.
The building is beautiful, clearly modeled after a French Chateau. What strikes me the most is its grandeur. As I lean forward, my eyes take in the intimidating-looking building.
I was not expecting it to be quite so extravagant.
The exterior is solid stone, imposing, yet elegant. The facade is embellished with intricate carving and decorative stonework, giving it an aged look. Tall, narrow windows line the first and second floors, with Juliet balconies adorning the second-floor windows. It’s as if someone plopped the south of France in the middle of the Washington State desert.
I look down at my oversize, cable-knit sweater and jeans, feeling entirely underdressed to be within five feet of this place. Jenn, also dressed casually, is seemingly unaffected by the grandiose winery. She parks in the designated parking lot, and we walk in together.
The tasting room isn’t busy. There are only a couple different groups seated at high-top tables and others gathered at the marble bar. Whoever designed this building was very detail oriented. Not one area is basic or simple; everything is grand and opulent.
Jenn spots a woman working behind the bar, and the two women embrace excitedly.
“Marisa, this is my dear friend, Leanne.” She turns to Leanne. “Leanne, this is Robert’s daughter, Marisa.”
I extend my hand to her, but she pulls me in for a hug instead.
“So nice to meet you, Robert has told us so much about you.”
My cheeks heat. I’m a little taken aback by the affection as I wonder if she’s being polite or if my dad really has spoken about me.
Jenn and I hop up on the two open bar stools at the bar.
Leanne rests her hands on either side of the counter. “Are we doing a flight or a glass?”
Jenn and I exchange looks, and I shrug. I’m letting her take the lead on this, seeing as I’ve never been wine tasting.
“We’ll start with a red flight and go from there,” Jenn says.
Leanne sets three glasses in front of me and three in front of Jenn and proceeds to fill each one with a few ounces of different wines.
She goes on to explain what each one is, but I’m barely paying attention.
I pick up the first glass and take a sniff of it, because that seems to be what people do when they wine taste, though I have no idea what the reasoning is. It smells like wine, and maybe something spicy. This is so not my thing. If I’m drinking wine, it’s usually label-less, two-buck chuck on sale at the grocery store.
Jenn takes a sip. “Oh, this one is good. Very smooth,” she tells Leanne.
I follow suit, taking a sip. Unsurprisingly, it tastes like wine. This is going to get embarrassing very quickly if anybody asks me a wine-related question.
“How are you liking the cottage?” Leanne asks me.
“It’s great. Thank you so much for allowing me to stay there. I told my dad I was willing to pay.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Absolutely not. We almost knocked them down a few years ago, but at the last minute decided to keep them up just in case. Hopefully, my son hasn’t been too much of a bother.”
I offer a dismissive shrug. “We’ve barely seen each other.”
