Page 61 of Red Mountain Burning
She nodded. “I can go to WSU here. They have a great viticulture program.” She stopped and searched his eyes. “Would you ever come back? After Berklee, I mean?”
“I don’t want to make any promises, Em.” He scratched his head. “I love it here too, but it’s not easy to do what I do out here. I love playing with your dad, but he’s already done his thing. I’ve always been the best player in the room. That all changed at Berklee. I like not being the best. I like learning from people. So who knows what happens after school? I want to find a band of my own. Can I do that from here? I don’t know.”
Emilia understood what he was saying more than she wanted to. Having grown up the daughter of a musician, she knew exactly what Jasper meant. She knew that to love such a man was to accept a second love in the relationship.
It was so sad to think about not being with Jasper forever. And at theideaof maybe even falling in love with someone else, she could feel her bottom lip quivering.
Just when everything seems right, you realize it never actually is.
They didn’t talk much more about it, and once Jasper had left, she tried to stay busy. Too much dwelling on losing him would just kill her. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone more. Plenty of guys had asked her out in New York, and she’d rejected them without hesitation. Jasper was the only guy she’d ever really wanted.
* * *
The next morning,Emilia rode with Brooks and Otis to the Red Mountain AVA Alliance meeting in downtown Richland. Though the fear of losing Jasper had kept her up most of the night, riding with these two men stirred her soul. They were talking to her like she was one of them—a true guardian of theterroir—and she could barely hide her excitement.
She’d known Otis for several years now, but she’d never had much meaningful conversation with him. He’d been nice enough, but they hadn’t had a lot in common. She’d been a young girl with little interest in wine. He was the grapefather. Now that she was falling in love with the art of wine, the topics of conversation seemed endless.
“She’s got the bug, Otis,” Brooks said, slowing to a stop at an intersection. He flipped up his blinker, and it ticked rhythmically. “You can see it all over her.”
Otis was sitting shotgun. “Emilia, I remember Brooks’s first year on the mountain. It took me a little while, but once I broke through to him, I could see little grape clusters dangling from his eyes. The wine bug has a vicious and intoxicating bite, doesn’t it?”
Was Otis really taking her that seriously? To compare Brooks to her in any way was so freaking crazy. This had to be what it felt like to belong.
Otis turned back to her. “You’re in good hands with Brooks. I’ve met very few men and women in my days of farming who grasp the deeper meanings in wine. He’s certainly one of them. And I imagine he’s a wonderful teacher.”
“Better than the PhDs at my school,” Emilia said.
With his eyes focused on the road, Brooks thanked her and said, “Otis, I’m hoping you’ll share a few things with her too, from time to time.”
“I’m happy to contribute to this budding winemaker’s education. And I may still have a trick or two up my sleeve.”
Had Otis just called her a winemaker?
Otis turned his head to the backseat again. “Why don’t you come spend a few hours with me every week, Emilia?”
“Are you serious? That would be incredible.”
“Take down my cell.”
Emilia had never reached for her phone so quickly in her life. Her fingers trembled as she entered the digits.This is really happening, she thought. If she wanted this life, it was here for the taking.
In place of Otis’s name, she typed:The Grapefather.
Brooks pulled into the parking lot of the hotel where the meetings were held. When they climbed out of the truck, Emilia felt a sense of pride that was almost too much. She was having a hard time not strutting as she walked in between Brooks and Otis, this entourage focused on preserving their homeland.She was beginning to understand the meaning of the Guardians of Red Mountain. Was she becoming one of them?
Her nerves ignited as they entered the large conference room with white walls where twentyish other winemakers from Red Mountain had gathered. She felt like the new kid in town, and everyone was extremely kind to her as she took her seat next to Brooks. Looking around, she knew most of the faces, including Harry Bellflour sitting directly across from her.
Emilia had never met the man but knew of him. Who didn’t know about his attempts to wedge his way onto Red Mountain? He looked terribly unhappy and lonely, she thought. Everyone else seemed to be friends, catching up as they waited for the meeting to begin. Bellflour sat hunched over, staring at his phone.
She found herself feeling sorry for him. As awful as he supposedly was, she wondered what led a man to be that way, to be so greedy and angry. At least that’s what she’d heard about him. Emilia glanced at his hand. No wedding ring. She wondered if he might be divorced. Did he have children? Had anyone ever loved him? He looked tremendously unhealthy, like he ate and drank way too often.
The meeting was soon underway, and the woman at the end of the table ran through a list of announcements. Then they went over lighter topics like recycling, an upcoming consumer event, and a new stop sign on Antinori Road. Emilia was surprised to see how heated things were, even for the seemingly inconsequential topics. She could only imagine what would happen when Otis took the floor to bring up organics.
After discussing a potential Red Mountain tasting in Denver, Otis finally got his chance.
“I know I’ve sat here before and said the same thing, but I want to revisit this topic. There was an incident recently where my vineyards were exposed to chemical drift. Thankfully, I was able to stop the violator, but I feel compelled to stand before you today and plead my case.”
Emilia noticed he had not once looked at Bellflour. Otis dropped a soft fist onto the table. “I believe we should become the first certified organic appellation in the United States. Can you imagine the power we’d have? Can you imagine the grapes we’d raise?”
