Page 16 of Keeping it Local

We came to a dirt road that had trees canopying over the top and turned onto it. Beyond the giant trees were rows of grapes growing on trellises. We pulled into the parking lot. There weren’t many cars there, but a few people milled about. Picnic tables littered the grass, and in the middle was a small cottage that had a walk-up window and small gift shop inside to get your preferred beverage. As we walked inside, I noticed the huge colorful paintings covering the walls, and each had a small plaque next to them with the price.

People laughed and talked around us, and the faint smell of honey and lavender hit me as we looked at the menu. This seemed like a lifetime away from back on the farm at home.

We walked up to get our tastings, but before we could order, Johnny nudged my arm. “That’s Bill over there, the owner. Want to ask him about the auction donations?”

The old man had just walked in and was hanging up a new painting—probably something from a local artist. He didn’t look like someone who would own a winery. He had brown dress pants, a crisp button-down shirt, and a downward slope of his mouth—not overly welcoming, and Johnny had told me as much on the drive here. But I knew that’s how things sometimes worked in small towns. Sometimes, these owners were thrown into the job because it’s what had always been—something I could relate to.

Johnny waggled his eyebrows at me, and I couldn’t help but grin. He made everything fun, even things as simple as asking for a donation.

I smirked at him. “Sure thing.”

Johnny stayed behind with Oberon as I sauntered up to the old winery owner, and I caught my breath before greeting him.

“Good afternoon,” I said, holding out my hand. “Bill, right?”

“And you are?” Bill asked, tilting his head toward me.

“My name is Beth. We’re helping out with the Blueberry Festival this year.” I paused, briefly glancing back at Johnny who had a shit-eating grin on his face. He’d warned me about Bill being crotchety, and so far, he was living up to the expectations. “Megan VanBuren put us in charge of gathering donations for the festival auction’s Starlight Night. Since you contributed last year, would you be up for donating again? It would be a big help.”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Kathy asked for a donation last year. I told her it was a one-time thing, and now, here you are trying to shake me down.”

“Sorry about that. We’re not trying to shake you down.” I looked around at the giant canvas paintings on the walls. “Johnny and I are helping this year since Kathy isn’t able to. We didn’t realize you had that agreement with her.”

“Megan should have known,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” Johnny said, stepping in, attempting to help. “We’ll head out.”

He turned, but I stayed rooted to the spot, wanting to prove that I could do this.

“These are beautiful oil paintings.” I stopped at the largest canvas and scrutinized it. “Where is the artist from?”

“Up north—it’s my sister, actually. It’s her first time displaying anywhere.” He walked past where I stood, pointing to a different painting, his guard visibly dropping as he continued. “This was her first piece that she felt comfortable putting up when I told her she had something special. She’s finally giving it a shot, even at seventy years old.”

“I love the colors. They’re so vibrant,” I said.

“She lives just over the bridge and focuses on water landscapes.” He had a twinge of a smile as he looked around the room. “Her work has evolved over the years though.”

“I can see that.” I nodded. “Her first sale. She must be excited.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Bill gave a look, and I wasn’t sure if it was a smile or a grimace, but I’d take it.

“Of course. That’s why I think it would be great to give her even more exposure at the festival.” I walked around the room, not looking Bill in the eye. “Think of all the people in attendance who wouldn’t necessarily come into the winery that could see her work.”

“I see what you’re doing there.” He walked back over to behind his counter where he started looking at some documents. “I think we’re all set though.”

“We’re expected to get a much bigger crowd this year because of the extra ads we’re running. I’d hate to have her miss out.” I headed for the door. “They’re beautiful.”

We all stood there, not saying anything for a moment before Bill spoke up.

“How about we get you a tasting, and you can leave your number before you leave.” Bill caught my eye. “I’ll bring it up to my sister.”

I half-smiled as I wrote my number on the back of his business card. “We’ll save you a spot.”

After Bill gave us our glasses in a wine tree, we found a small wrought-iron table for two that was out of the way of some of the other guests and sat down, Johnny across from me. Oberon seemed perfectly content to lay at our feet.

“Well, that was fun.” He lifted his first glass toward me and clinked mine. “Someone had to show me up with Bill today, huh?”

I threw my head back with a laugh and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Of course I did.” I winked at him, something that I never did but felt right with Johnny. There was something about him that made me want to let go. “So, what do you do for fun besides shaking people down for festival donations?”