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Maire didn’t know where to look first. Most of the room was lined with mahogany shelves holding hundreds of jewel-colored wine bottles. Mounted into a recessed wall was a black-and-white painting of the skull of an antlered animal surrounded by a thorny nest. Its eyes were empty hollows. Behind a full bar hung a large, gilded mirror marred by a spidery crack. Maire looked into the mirror and her distorted reflection stared back. “The mirror is original to the home,” Fern explained. “Over a hundred years old.”
“Impressive,” Camille said.
Maire watched as Camille moved languidly through the space, her fingers skimming the wine bottles. She was so self-assured, so comfortable. Something that Maire rarely felt herself. “So this is a fully operational winery?” Camille asked.
“It is,” Fern said, reaching for a bottle of wine. “This merlot is produced here and can be found in a number of the valley’s most popular restaurants and boutiques. You must try it.” She began pouring the wine into five long-stemmed glasses lined up atop the bar.
Ned Bennett sidled up next to Fern and reached for a glass. He stood so close that his chest grazed Fern’s back. “Nice,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. Fern startled, and the bottle slipped from her fingers. It crashed to the stone floor, sending a shower of glass and red wine into the air and across Ned’s and Fern’s shoes.
Fern cried out as everyone jumped back to avoid the splash.
Maire looked around for something to help sop up the mess.
“No, please leave it,” Fern said, taking in the small puddle of wine with dismay and looking as if she might cry. “I’ll get it later. Let’s move down here.” The group shifted to the far end of the bar and with a shaky voice Fern asked, “Now, who would like to sample the merlot?” Both Samuel and Camille declined but Ned accepted. “Maire?” Fern asked, hopefully.
Maire accepted the delicate glass. She took a sip and murmured her approval, though honestly, all wine tasted the same to her.
“Now, let me show you The Vault.” Fern opened the door just behind the bar to reveal a small room designed to look like a bank vault with shiny metal walls, built-in lockboxes, and stacks of what Maire was sure were fake bars of gold. Inside, the only furniture was a table and chair. Atop the table was a laptop.
“Each of you will use this space as a sort of confessional,” Fern explained. “Throughout your time here, you will come into this room known as The Vault, and record the answers to a series of questions using this laptop. This is the place where you can reflect and contemplate on why you are here, what you hope to achieve, all while relaxing with a glass of wine. We only ask that you are completely, brutally honest. We want viewers to connect with you, feel your emotions, experience the highs and lows right along with you, because the streaming audience could save you.”
Fern paused dramatically to let the information soak in. “Each day, snippets of your time in The Vault will be aired, giving the audience a chance to vote for the contestant who strikes a chord with them. The contestant with the least number of votes will go home. So, when it’s your turn, make sure to be vulnerable, honest, and, most importantly, be yourselves. One of you has been randomly chosen to enter The Vault first. When it’s your turn, you’ll sit at the table and follow the instructions on the laptop. It’s easy. Tonight, you’ll each have fifteen minutes in The Vault and then head upstairs.”
“So who’s first?” the senator asked. Through the flickering light of the candles, he looked as tired as she felt, Maire thought. It had been a long day for all of them.
“It just so happens, Senator Crowley, you are the lucky one,” Fern said with a smile. “But before you go inside, I have a little something for each of you.”
Fern ducked behind the bar and started lining up gift bags spilling over with shimmering gold tissue paper. One by one, Fern began handing them out. Maire saw her rip the tag from the last bag before handing it to Ned.
Maire waited an awkward beat until the others began plucking out the tissue paper and peering inside. Then she looked inside her own. It held a bottle of wine and other odds and ends.
“This is lovely,” Camille said, setting her bag aside. “So very thoughtful of you, Fern.”
“No, no, take everything out,” Fern urged.
Maire reached inside and pulled out each item one by one. A bottle of Bella Luce cabernet, a bag of merlot-infused coffee, a Laguiole corkscrew, and a set of colorful wine chilling stones. As expected, there was plenty of oohing and aahing over the contents.
“What’s with this logo?” the senator asked, holding up his bottle.
Maire took a step toward the table and peered over the senator’s shoulder to get a better look. The One Lucky Winner logo was on the label. It really was quite grotesque. The angry goddesses with snakes for hair converging on the tortured-looking man and woman. The design was so disturbing, dark and feral. There was one word, printed in bold, blood red ink: Imbroglione.
“I know who they are,” Camille said. “They’re the Furies. Goddesses from Roman mythology. They fit in with the whole Italian theme that’s going on here.” She waved her hand around vaguely.
“What does this mean? Imbroglione?” the senator asked. “I’m a little rusty with my Italian.”
Maire looked down at the wine bottle in the senator’s hands. So strange. Imbroglione stared back up at her. It did look Italian, but what did it mean?
Ned spoke up. “I don’t know Italian either, but it sure looks like someone is calling me a degenerate.” He turned his bottle around so the others could see. Degenerare. “What do yours say?”
“Mine says, Sfasciafamiglie,” Camille said, stumbling over the word. “Something about family maybe? What about yours, Samuel?” she asked.
“Traditore?” Samuel said, raising his eyebrows.
“Mine is Uccisore,” Maire said with a shrug. “No idea.”
“Well, it’s getting late,” Fern said, consulting her watch. “Senator Crowley, why don’t you step inside The Vault, and you can record your piece. We’ll wait out here until you are finished and then the others can have their turn.”
Fern waited until everyone had stepped away from the door and the senator had taken a seat in front of the computer before gently shutting The Vault’s door.
