Page 10 of Corkscrew You
“I didn’t see your Porsche outside,” is her opening gambit.
Shelby drops a spoon in the sink.
“Why do you think I own a Porsche?” I have to ask.
Chiara shrugs one shoulder. “Vicious rumour?”
“Iwasdriving my brother’s 911 last week,” I say. “He needed my truck.”
“Ohhh…” Chiara stares over at Shelby. “Yourbrother’sPorsche.”
Shelby keeps her back to us, pretending to be busy with the coffee pot. I get what’s going on here. This morning, when I parked my pickup next to the Flora Valley Wines Dodge, I observed the trailer hitch protruding at precisely Porsche hood height. Shelby’s reaction at lunch last week now makes perfect sense.
“Danny’s a mechanic,” I say. “Sports cars are his speciality.”
I don’t mention how shitty he was about the dent. We all make mistakes.
Shelby turns around, catches my eye and we have a little moment of understanding that in a sudden flash becomes a little moment of something else. I give thanks that my poker face is still switched on to maximum. Parts of me are tingling. Shelby has turned her back, so I can’t see if she’s blushing or not. Maybe I was mistaken?
I remind myself sternly that it’s irrelevant what her reaction is, and that coffee this strong would make anyone’s parts tingle. Back to normal. Thank fig.
But then Chiara, who clearly misses nothing, smiles like a cat plotting to take over the world.
“So, Nathan,” she says. “What do you do for fun?”
ChapterFive
SHELBY
Not that I reallyhad any choice in the matter, but introducing Chiara to Nathan actually seemed to be a good idea. She only stayed for coffee, but during that time he lightened up, and the afternoon waswayless painful than the morning. He met Javi, who reassured with his usual efficiency. All three of us took a tour of the vineyard, and by the time we returned to the house, Nathan didn’t have any more questions.
I couldn’t help feeling a little miffed that it was Javi who put Nathan’s mind at ease about the operations and not me, but I’ll take the wins where I can get them.
Wish it were reciprocal, though. Gaps in Nathan’s knowledge might be filled, but I’m still in the dark about what he intends to do next. He pumped Javi about the neighbouring vineyards, what they were doing, and what changes they’d made over the years Javi had been in the industry, and I got the feeling he was double-checking that his plans for Flora Valley were viable.
Despite my resistance to Nathan taking over, Iknowwe have to adapt. The limited runs of pinot noir we’ve always made still sell out, but they haven’t sustained us for several years. Operating costs have risen every year but we can only bump up the prices so much or our customers’ loyalty would be stretched too far. Which means our profit margins have become so small any cost overruns destroy them.
Dad knew our operating budgets were unrealistic, but every year he vowed we’d keep costs under control. There was no year we actually managed to do this.
Added to that is the risk of … well, me. Our customers were loyal to Dad. To his skill and, let’s face it, his personality. Big Billy Armstrong, enthusiast and entrepreneur. He made you feel like you were part of a select crew, handpicked to join his personal adventure. CustomerslovedDad. When they bought a Flora Valley pinot noir, they took a piece of Billy home.
Our customers have known me for years and like me well enough, but I’m not my father. Last vintage released was the final one made by Billy Armstrong. My first wine, made with Dad’s sick-bed guidance, is due to be bottled next month, August. Pre-orders are slow, understandably, I guess. And as for the customers whohaveordered, I won’t know what they think of my wine until they try it.
We’ll harvest this coming crop not long after, during September, and it will age in barrels for eleven months, which is short by industry standards but works for us – enough time for it to develop depth, but not so long that it loses freshness for those who want to age it further. If our customers don’t like my wine, this coming harvest may never happen and the grapes will rot on the vine. And that’ll be the end of Flora Valley Wines.
Nathan’s readying to go. He looks a lot more relaxed than he did this morning. I’d like to say the same for myself, but that would be a lie.
“So I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he says.
He … what?
“Uh, did I miss something?”
Nathan gives me a steady look. He’s good at those.
“Drinks. With Chiara. This evening at Bartons.”
Yup, that completely passed me by. What was I doing when this was discussed? Oh, that’s right. I was letting my mind be overwhelmed with anxiety about the future.
