help, but I just don’t see how I can do it this weekend. After all, this is just surveying the site and tasting the menu, right? The hard stuff hasn’t even started yet.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had to cut out three plywood table rounds, repaint the trellis, and pressure wash the porch by Friday.” As she moved closer to the house, the reception became clearer and she asked, casually, “So, who is he?”
Lori’s laugh was too light to be genuine. “Who is who?”
“You know who. The new fella.”
“Really Mom, I have this killer exam coming up and I have to stay on campus this weekend to study. Besides, I have some great news. That’s what I called to tell you.”
“Oh?” Cici had learned from experience to be wary of what Lori considered great news.
“It’s a terrific opportunity so perfect I really didn’t even think I had a chance, which is why I didn’t want to mention it to you before now.” Lori’s voice was practically breathless with excitement—or perhaps she was jogging to class, as she often was when she remembered to call her mother. “There’s this internship program that I found out about online, where agriculture students can actually get hands-on experience at a real winery, with some of the top winemakers in the world!”
Already Cici had a bad feeling about this. “But you’re not an agriculture student.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But it turns out I can apply through the business department, with the approval of the agriculture head, and because I’m coordinating all my credits to transfer to the enology program at Cornell, he actually approved me!”
“Well,” said Cici, having absolutely no difficulty restraining her enthusiasm. “That’s really something.”
“And you haven’t even heard the best part! It’s in Italy! Italy! And it starts in July, but don’t worry, I’ll be back for regular classes in September, and—the absolutely best part—five quarter hours credit, can you believe that? Of course, part of the credits are in language, so I guess I’d better learn Italian, but could you just die?”
Cici sat down slowly on the porch steps. “Internship?” she repeated. “In Italy?”
“Don’t worry about the expenses,” Lori assured her. “Dad’s got it covered.”
Cici pressed her lips together and tried to count to three. “You talked to your dad about this?”
“Oh, sure. But he’s cool with it, don’t worry.”
Cici cleared her throat softly, and chose her words carefully. She had a sudden, disturbingly gratifying picture of serving up her ex-husband’s head on a platter, lined with curly endive and surrounded by spiced apple rings, at the wedding buffet. “How did this, um, all come about?”
Lori hesitated, but she made no attempt to disguise the excitement in her voice as she confided, “Actually, there is this guy I met online...” And before her mother could smother her groan, she went on, “Don’t worry, he’s really nice. And he’s awfully cute—at least the picture he posted is—and we’ve been having the best time, e-mailing back and forth. He’s at the University of Milan, studying law. You have to be really smart to go to the University of Milan, but that’s where he is. He was helping me to research a paper, and then I heard about this internship, and it turns out his father actually knows the owner of Cascino Giovani, which is—yes!—at the top of approved sponsors, and he’s giving me a personal reference, which pretty much means I’m in. Well, as long as I keep my GPA up for another three weeks, anyway! He writes the most beautiful letters,” she confided, with a touch of wistfulness in her tone. “Sergio, not his father. Are all Italians so ... poetic?”
Cici ground her teeth together and drew in a slow breath. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”
The sun, slanting behind the neatly tied rows of just-budding grape vines, broke a sweat on her face. She heard the
“You wouldn’t say that if you had to cut out three plywood table rounds, repaint the trellis, and pressure wash the porch by Friday.” As she moved closer to the house, the reception became clearer and she asked, casually, “So, who is he?”
Lori’s laugh was too light to be genuine. “Who is who?”
“You know who. The new fella.”
“Really Mom, I have this killer exam coming up and I have to stay on campus this weekend to study. Besides, I have some great news. That’s what I called to tell you.”
“Oh?” Cici had learned from experience to be wary of what Lori considered great news.
“It’s a terrific opportunity so perfect I really didn’t even think I had a chance, which is why I didn’t want to mention it to you before now.” Lori’s voice was practically breathless with excitement—or perhaps she was jogging to class, as she often was when she remembered to call her mother. “There’s this internship program that I found out about online, where agriculture students can actually get hands-on experience at a real winery, with some of the top winemakers in the world!”
Already Cici had a bad feeling about this. “But you’re not an agriculture student.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But it turns out I can apply through the business department, with the approval of the agriculture head, and because I’m coordinating all my credits to transfer to the enology program at Cornell, he actually approved me!”
“Well,” said Cici, having absolutely no difficulty restraining her enthusiasm. “That’s really something.”
“And you haven’t even heard the best part! It’s in Italy! Italy! And it starts in July, but don’t worry, I’ll be back for regular classes in September, and—the absolutely best part—five quarter hours credit, can you believe that? Of course, part of the credits are in language, so I guess I’d better learn Italian, but could you just die?”
Cici sat down slowly on the porch steps. “Internship?” she repeated. “In Italy?”
“Don’t worry about the expenses,” Lori assured her. “Dad’s got it covered.”
Cici pressed her lips together and tried to count to three. “You talked to your dad about this?”
“Oh, sure. But he’s cool with it, don’t worry.”
Cici cleared her throat softly, and chose her words carefully. She had a sudden, disturbingly gratifying picture of serving up her ex-husband’s head on a platter, lined with curly endive and surrounded by spiced apple rings, at the wedding buffet. “How did this, um, all come about?”
Lori hesitated, but she made no attempt to disguise the excitement in her voice as she confided, “Actually, there is this guy I met online...” And before her mother could smother her groan, she went on, “Don’t worry, he’s really nice. And he’s awfully cute—at least the picture he posted is—and we’ve been having the best time, e-mailing back and forth. He’s at the University of Milan, studying law. You have to be really smart to go to the University of Milan, but that’s where he is. He was helping me to research a paper, and then I heard about this internship, and it turns out his father actually knows the owner of Cascino Giovani, which is—yes!—at the top of approved sponsors, and he’s giving me a personal reference, which pretty much means I’m in. Well, as long as I keep my GPA up for another three weeks, anyway! He writes the most beautiful letters,” she confided, with a touch of wistfulness in her tone. “Sergio, not his father. Are all Italians so ... poetic?”
Cici ground her teeth together and drew in a slow breath. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”
The sun, slanting behind the neatly tied rows of just-budding grape vines, broke a sweat on her face. She heard the
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