Page 13 of Kiss My Glass
“Not helpful,” I say, before Nate can retort. “But a good example of how we’renotgoing to behave over the next two months.”
Danny’s mouth tightens in annoyance. Too bad. I’ve been handed control here and we’ll run things my way.
“Shelby?” I ask. “Have you got a big jar?”
She hops up and fetches a preserving jar from a cupboard. Every year, at seasonal intervals, Mom made at least ten thousand pounds of preserves, and roped in us kids to peel, pit, de-seed, and chop. We were at it for days. I’m meanly satisfied to note that this empty jar is one of a whole empty-jar collection. My sister has clearly never made another preserve since, either.
“Perfect.” I take the jar and set it in the middle of the table. “You know how some families have swear jars? This is our insult, barb, jibe, slur, backhanded compliment, aspersion, and put-down jar. Every time we commit an offense, we put our name on a piece of paper and drop it in. On the day of the crush, the person with the highest name count gets to take a punishment chosen by everyone else. Fair?”
“That’s genius,” says Ava. “I like the way you think.”
“I’d take that as a compliment,” Nate tells me. “Even if it sounds like a threat.”
“Name in the jar!” Ava insists. “That was a slur!”
“It was a statement of fact,” Nate protests. “And everyone here will back me up on that.”
“People!” I raise my voice, and they quieten down. “Now we’ve established our code of conduct, let’s talk about who’s doing what. Let’s start with Cam because he’s easiest.”
Cam looks alarmed, as he always does when he becomes the focus of attention.
“Cam keeps on doing what he’s doing,” I say. “Repairs, maintenance, barrels.” I look up at him. “What else? Leafing? Crop-thinning?”
“Leafing’s done,” he says. “Crop-thinning soon.”
“Okay, what are those?” Danny sounds reluctant to admit that he’s the only one of us who hasn’t a clue.
I’m about to answer him, but unusually, Cam speaks up. I sense a small powerplay here. Cam isn’t the macho type at all, but by claiming ownership of the knowledge, he’s asserting dominance over Danny. Intriguing. I wonder what Danny did to get Cam’s goat.
“Leafing’s when we remove about a fifth of the grape leaves,” say Cam. “Gives the grapes air and sunshine. Prevents disease. Crop-thinning happens if there’s too much fruit on the vine for it all to ripen properly. It’s been a heavy crop this year, so we’ll thin pretty soon.”
“You’ll liaise with Javi and Doug to organize additional labor?” I ask.
Cam confirms with a nod.
“And then it’s veraison!” says Shelby. “My favorite part of the year!”
“Verayzhun?” Danny’s a little pink around the cheeks. I should feel sorry for him, but if the tables were turned, I knowhe’d be gloating.
“It’s when the grapes change color,” says Shelby. “So exciting! That’s when we start doing a heap of lab testing, to check on acid and sugar levels, how the flavor’s developing. You can pretty much tell then if it’s going to be a good vintage.”
“You havesomeidea,” says pessimist Nate. “But until those grapes are safely harvested, you can’t count your chickens. Anything could happen before then. Rain, hail, fire?—”
“Plague of locusts,” says Danny, attempting and failing to make a joke.
“There actuallywasa locust plague that ruined vines, in Jerusalem in 1915,” says Nate. “Laid waste to every piece of vegetation. Broke into beehives, too, and ate the honey and the bees. Truly biblical.”
“Well, there’s an easy way to avoid that,” says Ava. “Don’t open the Ark of the Covenant.”
“I think we can rule out locusts,” I say. “Nate, you’ll help Shelby with testing, right? I’ll put my hand up for lab runs. I like the drive to Martinburg.”
Danny’s head shoots up like a dog spotting a rabbit. “Where’s your car parked? I didn’t see it.”
“Far side of the Flora Valley Wines pick-up,” I reply. “It’s small. Easily hidden.”
“What make is it?” he says eagerly.
“Car-talk later, Danny,” warns Nate.
