Page 5 of Gone With the Wine

Something pinches in my chest. Yes, I left Oak Creek Canyon, but I always knew Nonna was here. Wherever my sisters ended up, wherever I ended up, Nonna was here. She was regular emails and FaceTime and even hand-written birthday cards. She was there for all three of us when both our parents were gone, and I loved her.

I slow the car to drive through the town of Oak Creek Canyon. I may have abandoned my hometown, but I have to admit it is pretty—tidy tree-lined streets, masses of rose bushes, pots of flowers overflowing with colorful blooms. I drive past the marketplace with its red awnings and charming stone walls draped with ivy, a spa with silvery olive trees shading its entrance, the three Michelin Starred restaurant, Old Dove House.

Then outside the town I prepare for the turnoff that will take me to Caparelli.

My winery.

A laugh escapes me. That’s so just so incredible, and yes, my laughter may have a touch of hysteria.

It’s not just my winery—my two sisters and I now own it. I’m not the only one freaking out about this.

I pull in a deep breath and make the turn.

This should be another dream come true—owning my own winery. But it’s more like a nightmare, because Nonna is gone. And also because I’m building a successful career in Argentina that’s important to me and I had to leave it.

Memories of growing up in Oak Creek Canyon flood back, always feeling overshadowed by my sister and cousins, ignored (other than that incident involving beer, weed, and peer pressure when I was a teenager) and less-than. And now—we apparently have a fight on our hands, because Uncle Geno is pissed that he didn’t inherit Caparelli. Since he learned that at the reading of Nonna’s will, he’s been actively trying to sabotage my sister Rosa’s efforts to clean things up. And Nonna is no longer here to act as a steadying influence on our sometimes-hotheaded family.

No Nonna.

My throat aches.

But I’m here. And I’m pissed. Since discovering Nonna left Caparelli to us, Uncle Geno has been playing shitty games with us. He overlooked me one too many times. I’m back and I’m going to make myself noticed whether he likes it or not. I owe it to my sisters.

I spare a glance down the road toward Belmonte before turning into the driveway of Nonna’s old home, a big old Victorian structure. I remember running around inside it and playing outside among the vines. But now…well, it’s seen better days. I slow to a stop and gaze at the house.

The bones are good, but my God, the old girl needs some work. Peeling paint and curling shingles give the house a rundown look, but man, I love that porch, wrapping around two sides of the house. The paint on the columns may be flaking, but their shape is charming, and they look solid. I can picture it with wicker furniture, comfortable cushions, and hanging pots of flowers. And a glass of wine. Of course.

So many memories. After my father died and Mama ran away in a scandalous move people still talk about, Nonna took in my sisters and me and raised us here. But once we grew up and left, she ended up moving in with her son, my Uncle Geno, so the house hasn’t been looked after for years.

The grounds are overgrown, although I can see some efforts have been made to tame things. I let my gaze roam around, taking in tangled vines, thick shrubs, and sparse flowers. There’s still a magic about the place—a feeling of bygone times, family legacy, and heritage. The entire region has a rustic ambience that blends with the history and refined charm of wine.

Another deep breath. But I’m also excited to see my sister, in the flesh instead of on a screen. She doesn’t know I’m coming today. I’m not exactly trying to surprise her, but I didn’t want a big deal made of it.

I slide out of the car, leaving my belongings, and the distinctive clap of the car door closing reverberates around the yard. As I stroll toward the house, a head pops up in the front window—what used to be the parlor. I grin and wave.

I watch Rosa’s face transform, her mouth dropping open, eyes flying wide open. She freezes for a moment, then disappears, reappearing as she throws open the front door, a heavily carved oak door. “Bee!”

She’s so pretty, with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that accentuates her perfect bone structure and shows off big brown eyes.

I quicken my step and we run to each other, wrapping each other up in the tightest hug. The scent of her hair, the berry scent of the shampoo she’s always used, is so familiar.

“You’re here!” Rosa squeals. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know how all the travel would go and I didn’t want it to be a big thing.”

“Itisa big thing! You’re here!”

“I promised I’d be here for harvest.”

She squeezes me again. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, Rosy Posey.”

“Ugh. Do you have to call me that?”

I grin. “Sorry, it slipped out. How are things here?” I fling out a hand toward the vineyards.

“Uh…well, you’ve been talking to Jake, so I know you’re up to speed on what he’s been doing with the vines. Come on, let’s go inside.”

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