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“It does, but great wine isn’t about the alcohol. It’s about the nose and the palate. Plus, drink enough of any wine, and you’ll get drunk, if that’s what you’re after.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t. Some of those old-vine Zins out of California are so high in alcohol. Our wines are naturally lower in alcohol. We’ve been a hundred percent biodynamic for the last ten years. We care for the soil, and the soil cares for us.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Since we’re a small operation with some big-name wines, we can afford to be.”
“What about outsourcing grapes?”
“We won’t have to this year because the crop is so perfect. But in the past, we only source fruit grown on certified biodynamic farms.”
I reach toward a vine and cup a cluster of grapes in my palm. Nicely dense. I inhale. The fragrance is subtle but sweet. He’s right. This is a perfect crop.
“How did this crop turn out so well?” I ask.
“A lot of variables came together. The weather, for example. We’re just coming out of a drought, so we had a little more precipitation than usual. We didn’t have to do any artificial irrigation. The roots dug deep to find their water, and it’s paid off in spades. We also added some organic micronutrients to the soil after harvest last year that we were experimenting with. The results speak for themselves.”
I nod.
“And of course, there’s no substitute for caring for the vines. They need love just like any other living thing.”
Dale loves these vines. His green eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and he looks upon this vineyard with more emotion than I saw from him all day.
Man, if he could only look at me like that.
“When did you become interested in the business?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond. Why? I’m not getting personal. This is business.
“It happened little by little,” he finally says. “I was a loner as a kid, and one day Uncle Ryan asked me to come to work with him. I wanted to say no, but I knew I’d disappoint my dad if I did, so I went.” He draws in a breath, closes his eyes, and then exhales, opening them once again. “Best thing I ever did.”
“I can see that.”
“I never thought of myself as particularly creative, but Aunt Mel—”
“Aunt Mel?”
“Yeah. She’s married to my dad’s other brother, Jonah.”
“Right. They have two boys, if I remember.”
He nods. “Bradley and Brock. Anyway, right after I first came to the ranch, I was having trouble picturing my mom’s face. Not Jade, my natural mom. Donny and I didn’t have any photos of her. So Aunt Mel told me to draw her.”
“And that’s when you realized you had creative talent?”
He chuckles. “Hell, no. I can’t draw to save my soul, though the exercise did help me remember my mother’s image. But drawing is what sparked my interest in other creative pursuits. My aunt Marj—she’s my dad’s sister—is a chef, and cooking kind of interested me, so I did some of that and realized I had a talent for seasoning each individual dish with herbs and spices. Then, once Uncle Ryan asked me to go to work at the vineyards that day, I found…my calling, I guess. It sounds corny as hell, but I don’t know how else to put it.”
“It’s not corny,” I say.
“It is, but that doesn’t make it any less true. These vines…they’re a part of me.”
A part of him.
A part of him that he resents sharing with me.
He’d never say it, but the truth is palpable as we stand here together among the clusters of black fruit.
“These vines are you,” I say.
He turns to me, his eyes as clear and green as they were earlier in the sunlight. “Yes. These vines are me.”
Chapter Twelve
Dale
No truer words.
I once read about the world’s largest single organism—a group of Aspen trees covering over a hundred acres in Utah that share a single root system. Though they appear to be single trees, they aren’t.
I doubt my vineyards share a single root system, but they’re connected in a way that I understand. In that same way, I’m connected to them. I’m so alive here. I feed off their energy just as they feed off mine.
Not that I’m an overly philosophical or spiritual person.
But being here, in my vineyards, awakens something in me and helps me feel something close to peace. As close as I’ll ever get, anyway.
We’re one, the vineyards and I. One being. In essence, we complete each other.
Ashley stares up at the moon, the light shining on her beautiful face.
She understands. Even standing here, regarding her, I can’t believe I just spilled out a piece of my soul to her. My childhood, how I got interested in wine, my mother’s face…and my feelings about being here among my vines.
No. I haven’t even trusted my father, who I’m closer to than anyone, with my feelings about the vineyards. I certainly can’t trust a woman I just met.
