“Oh, me too! I wish I could speak Italian. I know a few words from Nonna, but we always spoke English.”
“I took French in school for a few years. But I wasn’t good at it. Now I regret not trying harder.”
“There are apps you can use to learn a language. We could both join and do challenges together.”
“We could.”
“You don’t sound enthused.”
“How about after harvest is done?”
“Okay.” Except I’ll be gone. But we could still do language challenges long distance.
Wow. That’s sad.
A sudden feeling of being swamped, of drowning, not being able to breath rises in my chest. I gulp my wine. “I’m obsessed with orange wine.”
He blinks at the rapid change of subject. “Orange wine?”
I tell him of my discovery in the wine cellar and my research into orange wines.
“What makes them orange?” he asks
“We leave the skin and seeds in contact with the juice.”
“Like red wine, but with white grapes.”
“Exactly.” I beam at my favorite student. “It’s all about the skin contact.”
“I like skin contact.”
He says it so seriously I almost don’t get it. Then I see the gleam in his eyes and I crack up. “Well, to be honest, I do too. But I’m talking about grapes.”
“Right.” His lips twitch.
“Rosa agreed to taste some, but she’s not enthusiastic about the idea.” I make a face. “She wants wines that are ready more quickly so we can start making money.”
“That’s practical.”
“I guess. I feel like she doesn’t trust my winemaking abilities, though.”
He inclines his head. “Really? I’m sure she knows what a great winemaker you are.”
I snort. “I don’t know if anyone here in Napa knows that. Especially Uncle Geno.”
“And that matters to you.”
“I don’t care what they think.”
The corners of his mouth deepen. “Sure.”
My mouth pinches. “Okay, okay, it’s a tiny little chip on my shoulder.”
He smiles.
“I think it’s practical to try this new wine, because I think it’s growing in popularity. It’s something new and different and people will be intrigued. Especially if it’s good.”
“Of course it will be good. Bianca Martinelli is making it.”