Page 42 of Red Mountain Burning
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, looking at her loyal husband, her long neck craning toward him. “Something very literary, even mythical. Or…” She raised a finger as if she’d suddenly been struck with an Einstein-worthy notion. “Stay true to your roots. Use musical names.”
Brooks imagined smashing his own head against the concrete bar, over and over. He wanted to scream. How dare she, a person who didn’t even take wine seriously, come in here and start throwing out her ideas? She wouldn’t knowterroirif it wrote its name on her unblemished, Botoxed forehead.
Since no one else spoke up, Carmen kept going. Who would dare get in the way of a brainstorm of such Einsteinian authority? She spun the bottle around. “As far as the back label, it needs to tell a story. If you go with the musical theme, talk about how the wine matches the idea. For example, you could go with a family of names likeconcerto,legato, andfugue. The names could fit the style of the wine.”
Oh God, please kill me now,Brooks thought.
He looked back at Jake, who was hiding a tsunami of frustration behind his smile. But Jake was doing what he’d always done, putting family first. Carmen was fighting to stay sober and to regain control of her life. Jake would do anything to support her, even if that meant letting her have her way at Lacoda. He’d no doubt hand over the reins entirely if that’s what she wanted.
Concerto, legato, fugue.
What in all holy hell was Carmen thinking?
Jake leaned against the back wall under the hanging stemware. “What do you think, Brooks?”
Brooks pinched his chin. “I don’t know what to say, guys.” Feeling antsy, he picked up a wine key and opened and closed the corkscrew.
“I’m a simple man. I don’t want to make some big, flowery splash on the shelf. I want our seriousness to be interpreted by the simplicity of what we do.” Brooks wondered if Carmen was even listening. “I don’t want the bottle to scream for attention.”
“I hear you,” Jake said. “I don’t think anyone wants the packaging to scream. And we’re not making any decisions yet. But it is hard to argue with Carmen when it comes to design.” He looked at his wife. “Why don’t you have some things drawn up? We’re in no rush. Once you’re ready, we can take a look.”
Brooks wondered what it would feel like to jam the corkscrew into his own eye.
Carmen stood from her chair and said victoriously, “Sounds good.”
Yeah, you won, Carmen, Brooks thought.You’ll get the label of your dreams. The tallest and heaviest bottle ever made. And a broken family and a crumbling winery to go with all your wins. And I’ll run far, far away.
“That all right with you, Brooks?” Jake asked, tearing him from his tumbling thoughts.
Brooks dropped a single affirmative nod.
“I’m sure we can find some middle ground,” Jake continued. “Who knows? Emilia and Luca might like to have a say as well. Lacoda will be theirs one day.”
Brooks would much rather have the Foresters’ son, Luca, draw something with crayons than have an artist from Carmen’s fashion circles design an elaborate portrait that had absolutely nothing to do with Red Mountain.
After this encounter with Carmen, Brooks wondered how Emilia was faring with her recently sober mother. As excited as he was for Emilia, he was starting to think she might be better served taking a job in town somewhere, maybe as a lifeguard or a server. She would no doubt learn a lot about wine this summer, but she might just learnwaymore than she wanted to about Carmen and the realities of life.
Escaping the tasting room before he blew a gasket, Brooks walked through the cellar, dodged a forklift, and checked his phone.
His mother had texted.I’d like to come by later.
Brooks dropped his head. He’d been so busy with work, he’d almost forgotten about the damn baby monitor from hell and his mother piling onto Adriana’s reasons for leaving Red Mountain. What a hell of a day.
