Page 14 of Gone With the Wine

He’s getting a little too adventurous, which is probably what got him lost. I give a shrill whistle, and he comes trotting back on his short legs, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Good boy.” I bend and rub his head.

I got interested in wine a few years ago when a bunch of friends and I went to a wine festival in Long Beach. I thought it was pretentious and snobby and I rolled my eyes at how they described the wines when they poured them. But then I tasted a couple that were pretty amazing. I found myself seeking out the different tasting notes, curious about the differences between wines. I wanted to learn more. I took courses. I started making wine at home.

I lean on the fence, one foot on the lower railing, and sip my coffee as I gaze out at the landscape, at the layer of fog hanging in the air. I fill my lungs with the cool, damp air.

This was kind of a wild impulse. When I said I wanted to own a winery, my sensible friends thought I’d lost my mind. My family thought I was bonkers, too, but I’m used to them being critical of what I do. When I played hockey as a kid, they were on me all the time, pushing me to practice harder, putting me into hockey camps, pointing out how good other players were. So I didn’t expect them to think this is a genius idea.

Yeah, it was insane. Take Flight wasn’t the first winery for sale that I looked at, but to be honest, I only looked at a couple others. This one felt right. It’s small but with a quality reputation. It has amazing views and a nice tasting room, also a house on the property where I now live, which is way too big for a single guy, and needs updating, but for now it’s fine. I quickly learned about yield per acre and price per ton. I bought the winery without telling anyone. Like I said, they think I’ve lost my mind.

Finally I have something I’m excited to get out of bed in the morning for. Something that’s mine. A purpose in life. Something I can accomplish without skates and a stick.

I hope.

I take another mouthful of coffee, dark and rich, still surveying my estate. Hell yeah. I have an estate.

I’d laugh at my cockiness, but I don’t laugh much anymore.

That reminds me of last night.

I was walking down the sidewalk, slowing as I approached the Golden Cougar, and out of nowhere that woman asked me if she’d look sexy in that slip thing in the window.

At first I was taken aback, but she’d been so embarrassed that I’d been amused.

Not to mention a little intrigued as I pictured her in skimpy purple silk.

Oh hell yeah. Sexy as fuck.

She was hot even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her dark hair cut in shaggy layers, bangs hanging over rich brown eyes with glints of copper, her mouth a little wide and tilted up at the corners.

She’s friends with Ana and Millie, who I first met at a Cuban music event at El Castillo, a winery not far from here set in a stone castle. I barely know anyone in town other than the people who work for me, but I went with my buddies who came to visit and we got talking to Ana and Millie’s partners, and they introduced us to a few other people. They were all friendly enough, but clearly think a hockey player buying a winery is nuts. That’s okay. My family and friends think so, too.

Yeah, she was sexy.

Stop thinking about Bianca. You have wine to make.

I really don’t have a clue what I’m doing here.

“Come on, Jack. We have work to do.” I head past the bocce court, across the patio, and inside. The tasting room is deserted at this early hour. I walk through it and downstairs to the cellar. This is where the wine is, the reds now almost two years since harvest. We’re getting close to harvest this year and the chardonnay grapes are doing well. So I’m told. I don’t really know. They look like good grapes to me.

Some of the staff at Take Flight chose to stay on and some left. I hired Diego as vineyard manager, and Antonio stayed on as cellar manager, who then hired a few more people to help them keep things going until I sold my place in Long Beach and moved here.

What I don’t have is a winemaker. Much as I love the idea of making wine, I know I need someone skilled to do that.

It’s cool. Soon we’ll be bottling the stuff that’s in these barrels. Then drinking it. And selling it, of course. Hopefully. My investments have done well enough to allow me to buy this place, but I’m going to need to make money at some point. And I need to show all the doubters that I can actually do this.

With no job, no marriage, and no future, I’ve been feeling like a huge has-been.

I need to accomplish something.

Somehow,I’ve been convinced to go to the Napa Fair.

This sounds like a lot of people having fun, and that’s definitely not my scene these days. But if I’m going to live here and run a business here, I need to interact with people in the community.

I don’t want to go back to that black hole of loneliness that dragged me down.

One of my biggest problems when I retired was missing my teammates and buddies. After the years playing together, traveling together, all the pranks and chirps and inside jokes, I was lost without that kind of camaraderie. But the guy my wife cheated on me with was a former teammate. That made things kind of awkward with my old buddies. And that’s putting it mildly. I wanted to take him apart with my bare hands. And my teammates were the only friends I had, so I was pretty isolated, other than a couple of my closest friends, Frenchy and Copper.

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