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Maybe it’s because I’m finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Neli texted last evening and asked me to come over to their winery around seven tonight so we could work on the wine profiles.
Boz will be there, I remind myself. My heart flutters. I think of how incredibly generous he is, considering how he’s giving us his time on a Saturday. He has a small wine empire to run, and I know he probably values his downtime. Then I start thinking about how he looked the other night, with his new haircut and clothes. It was almost too painful to look at him—every curve of his ripped chest and biceps on display through his snug polo shirt. And that hard ass in those jeans? So gorgeous. My neck tingles. I give it a rub and go into my small bathroom done simply in white tile with blue accent tiles, noting that those weird mosquito bites have already healed. Strange. Why does the spot still itch?
Anyway, I have a lot of work to do today—helping my parents pull together promotional materials. Once the new wine blend is finished, there will be an announcement to do and tasting events to host. The key will be creating lots of buzz with the wine influencers. If they get on board, then the wine magazines will follow and start talking about us.
I shower and put on a pink floral maxi dress with black flats, but then change my mind and go for matching pink sandals. It’s kind of silly, but I think I caught Boz staring at my toes a few times. Maybe he’s a toe man. Either way, I like the idea of him admiring parts of my body, which is why I tie my hair up in a sloppy bun. I noticed he stares at my neck a lot too, and it’ll be warm out today.
I spritz a little of my favorite rose perfume behind my ears for the finishing touch and head downstairs to the kitchen with a bounce in my step. Mabel pulls a quiche from the oven.
“Oh no. Is that your bacon gruyere recipe?” I ask, my stomach grumbling.
“Yep!” She sets it on top of the stove.
“You know that’s my favorite. I’m going to gain twenty pounds if you guys don’t stop cooking all this delicious food.”
“Well, the state bake-off is next week.”
“I thought Eliza was entering that with one of her cakes,” I say.
“They have a savory competition this year. It has a prize of ten thousand dollars, and I know we could really use the money right now.”
It breaks my heart that she’s even thinking about money. “Shouldn’t you put that money aside for school if you win?”
Her mouth pulls to the side. “I overheard Mom and Dad fighting. Is it true we’re going to lose the house?”
Ugh. I know I should be honest, but she’s still a kid. I don’t want her to worry. “No. You must’ve misheard them. Everything’s fine,” I lie. “We’ve got a solid plan in place to grow the business and turn things around quickly.” I tap the end of her nose. “Soon we’ll be making enough to send you to the Culinary Institute of America in New York.” I know going there is her dream. Eliza wants to go to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.
“I’m not holding my breath. The tuition alone costs over a hundred grand.”
Yikes. That is a lot.
“But the institute here has a summer program—one month, ten thousand dollars,” she adds. “Maybe I can go to that? I mean, at least I’ll have it on my résumé—that is if you really think things are going to turn around?”
I smile with encouragement. “I think that’s a great idea, but let’s not give up on getting you into your dream school, okay?” I know we can at least get her into the state university here. They have loans and whatnot. It’s not her dream though. “Oh, and hey, I’m looking at what it would take to enter our new wine in the big tasting championship in New York. If we get in, maybe you can come along, and we could tour the school while we’re there.”
“Seriously?” Her big brown eyes light up. “New York?”
Maybe I spoke too soon. “Well, a lot has to happen first.” Having a great wine would be a nice start. Then we need to submit it for consideration. Plus there’s travel expenses and a hotel. I’m hoping that Castle Sangria might be willing to front the costs. We could pay them back out of our future profits. “But let’s keep that between us for now. I’d hate to get everyone’s hopes up.” They only take the best of the best wines from around the country. The initial qualifying samples are due next month. They have to be sent in blind with a number, no winery label, and you have to pay a courier to hand carry the entry on a private plane. Shipping wines by car or truck agitates the sediments and changes the flavor. It’s even a risk to fly with it, but that’s your best bet to deliver the bottle with the flavor fully intact. Flying commercial won’t work because they limit the amount of liquids you can carry, and I’m not about to put our wine in the belly of a plane, where the temperature might not be controlled.
