Page 57 of Cru's Crush
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I hope it will beourlife, Daph.”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
Our daily rhythmas the vineyards came alive was magical. As the heat of the sun intensified, so did our love for each other.
Throughout the rest of January and into the beginning of February, we continued to prune. With over six hundred hectares of vineyards, the equivalent of twelve hundred acres, planted with twenty different varietals, Cru and I had a lot of ground to cover. However, we didn’t do it alone. What I’d never realized was the number of people Los Caballeros employed. During the slower times of year, there were still more than one hundred full-time workers. As the seasons progressed, it could swell to three hundred.
During the first few days, Cru and I visited every vineyard, double-checking those that had already been cut and making a plan of attack for those that still needed to be done.
With each we walked, Cru asked for my opinion before sharing his own. At first, it felt like a test. Soon, I realized he simply valued my input.
“The vineyards are immaculate,” I commented on one of our daily walks.
“My father, then Brix, were insistent they be kept this way. It’s no different than what they do in Spain. Californians are a little more lax.”
I laughed. “Compared to Australians, they’re not.”
He chuckled too. It was a long-standing joke between us that it was anyone’s guess whether a bottle of Chardonnay from Perth contained any of the varietal at all. The truth was our wine law was more stringent than that of the US; however, our growing, harvesting, fermenting, and bottling methodologies were where we could stand some code enforcement.
Since Los Cab’s primary grapes—Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Zinfandel, Syrah, and Chardonnay—accounted for fifty percent of what was planted, those were the areas we checked first. Next were Petite Sirah, Cabernet Franc, Grenache, Mourvèdre, and Petit Verdot, which made up another thirty percent. The remaining twenty percent was dedicated to experimental plantings.
As I learned, those were Cru’s favorite and soon became mine too. I loved the way his eyes lit up when he showed me what he could grow that others insisted wouldn’t thrive on the Central Coast.
Because my degrees were in viticulture, or grape growing, and enology, or wine-making, I found myself working with the vineyard manager on almost a daily basis rather than strictly with Cru.
“What wouldyou like to do today?” Cru asked after we’d spent the morning lounging in bed rather than hurrying out to work. We’d promised each other we’d take a few days off since the month of February was slow and we’d done all the pruning we could without compromising the vines.
“Hmm,” I murmured, gazing at the sunlight streaming in through the window.
“What day is it?” he asked.
Admittedly, I had no idea, and without looking at my mobile, I couldn’t even guess.
I was relieved when he picked up his phone rather than forcing me to admit I was becoming just as bad as he was.
“It’s the tenth of February.”
“Is the date significant?” I asked.
“In a way. It means, if we wanted to, we could pay a visit toEl Lugar de Curación.”
“El what?”
“Tryst’s ranch. It means the Healing Place. He built the house and other outbuildings for his wife Rosa. It’s where they spent the last months of her life.”
“How sad.”
Cru shook his head. “It is, I suppose, until you’re there. I don’t know how to describe it, really.”
“Addy said it’s magical.”
Cru thought about it for a minute, then nodded. “Spiritual too.”
“I’d love to visit.” I sat up in bed, not bothering to pull the sheet over my nakedness. If I had, Cru would only tug it away.
He typed something on his mobile, then set it down. Almost immediately, it pinged. “He says now would be the perfect time to come. I should also alert Brix.”
While he did, I got up, went into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. I studied myself in the mirror while waiting for the water to warm up. I looked happy, and even though it was still winter in California, the freckles on my nose that came out when I spent timein the sun were visible. The most telling thing was the lack of dark circles under my eyes. I’d tried everything to get rid of them—creams, patches, cucumber masks—and nothing worked. Who knew that being with Cru could be the magic cure?
