sound of a truck engine—too well-tuned to be Farley’s—and tires crunching on the gravel driveway. She twisted around to see Dominic DuPoncier’s white pickup rounding the far corner of the house, moving toward the vineyard. Dominic, in straw hat and plaid shirt, lifted his arm through the open window toward her. “Afternoon, Miss Cici!” he called. Cici waved back.
Dominic was the county extension agent, and his father, as it happened, had been responsible for developing the original Blackwell Farms vineyard and winery on this very site. He had spent his youth working with his father at what was now Ladybug Farm, and he was so excited when the women approached him with the plan of reestablishing the vineyard that he had volunteered his expertise, his labor, and practically every free hour he had for the past year helping them get started. He babied their vines as though they were his pets, and when he talked about wine making he left no doubt in anyone’s mind why it was considered an art.
And thinking about him gave Cici an idea.
She said, “You know, Lori, I think an internship is probably a good idea. I’m just not sure Italy is the best choice.”
“Well, maybe. But the positions at all the best wineries in France were already filled.”
That was exactly what she had hoped Lori would say. “We have some excellent wineries in the U.S.,” she said. “New York, Napa...”
“Oh, Mother, please. If you’re talking wine, you’re talking Europe.”
“Or European winemakers,” she pointed out. “And I’m betting there’s nothing you can learn at Casa Wherever—”
“Cascino Giovani,” Lori supplied.
“—that you couldn’t learn from Dominic DuPoncier. He not only worked at some of the best wineries in New York, he studied under one of the most accomplished winemakers in France: his own father.”
Lori laughed. “Nice try, Mom. And don’t worry, I intend to learn loads of stuff from Dominic. But not until you have an actual winery for me to intern at.”
Cici worked hard to keep her tone neutral. “I thought your plan was to get a degree in wine making—
“Enology” supplied Lori helpfully.
“Right. A degree in wine making from Cornell after you get your business degree from UVA next year. Wouldn’t it be more helpful to do your internship then?”
“Well, that’s what I thought, too. But then I met Sergio in this online forum and we got to chatting, and that’s just not the way it’s done in places where they make real wine.”
“We’re making real wine,” Cici objected. And she frowned a little. “I guess.”
“Practical experience is everything,” Lori insisted. “And when I found out about this internship ... well, how could I not go for it?”
Cici chose her next words carefully. “You know, Lori, before you moved out here, you were planning to spend the summer in Italy on an archaeological dig, remember? With that professor you had a crush on?”
“Oh, him.” Her tone was dismissive. “He was a jerk. But Italy is my destiny.”
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t mention it to me. We could have talked more about this.”
“Well, there was no point in mentioning it until it was certain, was there?”
“Is it? Certain?”
“Just about,” Lori returned cheerfully. “I have one more exam, and if I pass it, I’m in! That’s why I really have to stay and study this weekend. I’m really sorry” she added, and the contrition in her voice was genuine. “I promise I’ll be more help as soon as finals are over.”
Cici sighed. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. You are being a help by staying in college and studying hard. Just keep your eye on the goal, okay?”
“Don’t worry about that! Love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, sweetie. Good luck on the exam.”
“Bye.”
She pressed the Disconnect button and stood up, waiting for the dial tone so that she could enter her ex-husband’s number. But before she could punch the first digit, the
Dominic was the county extension agent, and his father, as it happened, had been responsible for developing the original Blackwell Farms vineyard and winery on this very site. He had spent his youth working with his father at what was now Ladybug Farm, and he was so excited when the women approached him with the plan of reestablishing the vineyard that he had volunteered his expertise, his labor, and practically every free hour he had for the past year helping them get started. He babied their vines as though they were his pets, and when he talked about wine making he left no doubt in anyone’s mind why it was considered an art.
And thinking about him gave Cici an idea.
She said, “You know, Lori, I think an internship is probably a good idea. I’m just not sure Italy is the best choice.”
“Well, maybe. But the positions at all the best wineries in France were already filled.”
That was exactly what she had hoped Lori would say. “We have some excellent wineries in the U.S.,” she said. “New York, Napa...”
“Oh, Mother, please. If you’re talking wine, you’re talking Europe.”
“Or European winemakers,” she pointed out. “And I’m betting there’s nothing you can learn at Casa Wherever—”
“Cascino Giovani,” Lori supplied.
“—that you couldn’t learn from Dominic DuPoncier. He not only worked at some of the best wineries in New York, he studied under one of the most accomplished winemakers in France: his own father.”
Lori laughed. “Nice try, Mom. And don’t worry, I intend to learn loads of stuff from Dominic. But not until you have an actual winery for me to intern at.”
Cici worked hard to keep her tone neutral. “I thought your plan was to get a degree in wine making—
“Enology” supplied Lori helpfully.
“Right. A degree in wine making from Cornell after you get your business degree from UVA next year. Wouldn’t it be more helpful to do your internship then?”
“Well, that’s what I thought, too. But then I met Sergio in this online forum and we got to chatting, and that’s just not the way it’s done in places where they make real wine.”
“We’re making real wine,” Cici objected. And she frowned a little. “I guess.”
“Practical experience is everything,” Lori insisted. “And when I found out about this internship ... well, how could I not go for it?”
Cici chose her next words carefully. “You know, Lori, before you moved out here, you were planning to spend the summer in Italy on an archaeological dig, remember? With that professor you had a crush on?”
“Oh, him.” Her tone was dismissive. “He was a jerk. But Italy is my destiny.”
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t mention it to me. We could have talked more about this.”
“Well, there was no point in mentioning it until it was certain, was there?”
“Is it? Certain?”
“Just about,” Lori returned cheerfully. “I have one more exam, and if I pass it, I’m in! That’s why I really have to stay and study this weekend. I’m really sorry” she added, and the contrition in her voice was genuine. “I promise I’ll be more help as soon as finals are over.”
Cici sighed. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. You are being a help by staying in college and studying hard. Just keep your eye on the goal, okay?”
“Don’t worry about that! Love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, sweetie. Good luck on the exam.”
“Bye.”
She pressed the Disconnect button and stood up, waiting for the dial tone so that she could enter her ex-husband’s number. But before she could punch the first digit, the
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