The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(51)

Junie struggled with her competing desires.

Finally, she said, “You must really love building things.”

He shrugged. “It’s fun coming up with something in my head then watching it take shape. Might be a hospital today, a big plate of lasagna tomorrow. Even better when it makes someone’s life better.”

“Enough to do it for free?”

“You’ve heard that saying, ‘Do what you love, and the money will follow’?”

Her eyes lit up. “Ask my mom—I tell her that all the time.” Then the light went out. “She doesn’t get it.”

“The saying isn’t ‘Do what you love, and everyone will understand. ’ I’m living proof of that. Following your heart means taking chances, trusting that things will work out.” He reached across the table and laid his hand atop hers. “Don’t worry. It’s gonna be great.”





Chapter Thirty


By the end of the first week in August, the oven and grills as well as a half-size fridge were on order. Junie watched the glowering sky as Manolo poured the concrete for the patio.

“What if it rains before the concrete sets?”

“It might even look better with the aggregate exposed. But to be safe, I’m going to use a prophylactic.” He winked.

“’Scuse me?”

“Cover it with plastic.”

While Manolo drove off to town to oversee the interior work on the consortium, Junie went down to the cellar to taste last year’s vintage. It had to be bottled soon if she wanted to prevent the worst-case scenario—bottling last year’s wine at the same time she was crushing this year’s harvest. There wasn’t enough room at her boutique winery for pickers and bottlers to be there at the same time. It would mean mass confusion, just when she was getting ready for the year’s biggest festival. But you couldn’t rush the wine. It was like a baby inside the womb, a living, growing thing. It told you when it was ready for the next step in the process; you didn’t tell it.

Junie pulled up her spreadsheet. She slipped her wine thief into a barrel, withdrew a sample, and deposited it into a glass. The routine was always the same. First, note the color: light cherry red. Then the nose: mild and restrained, with hints of red fruit. Next came tasting. She was looking for balance across the tongue. She entered, Flavors of mild red fruits; sweet cherries. Last, a strong peppery finish.

She tasted again, still not satisfied.

There was nothing to do but try again later.

*

Sam and Manolo clapped on their yellow hard hats and entered the consortium.

“Aaah.” Manolo sniffed audibly. “I love the smell of sawdust in the morning.”

“How’s Junie?” asked Sam, inspecting the trim on a doorframe.

“Still pretty wired. That woman’s a machine. She’s trying to do the work of six men.”

“Vintage Junie,” Sam replied, as they continued down the hallway. “Her pinot’s unmatched. Unfortunately, there’s more to it. A potential distributor wants to know how a brand is going to improve their portfolio. They’re looking for professional producers that already have a solid customer base.”

“It’s more than the lack of visitors that’s got her in a tizzy. It’s the lack of sunshine. Thought you told me Oregon has dry summers?”

“We usually do. Haven’t you noticed? Weather’s crazy all over this year. Junie’s not the only one who’s worried. I’m hearing it from all the members. The grapes need sun to ripen. If this keeps up, every AVA in the valley could be facing a bad vintage.”

“None of the wine will turn out good? That can’t happen,” he pronounced, shaking his head, as if he could control the climate.

“Do you think you could bring a couple distributors out to Junie’s place to see the changes we’ve made?”

“Hart Vineyards is on my crush itinerary. Be nice if the place wasn’t empty when they showed up.”

“I got an idea.”

“You always do.”

“We’re going to lure our prey in with food.”

They had circled back to the new consortium’s public tasting room. Sam stood with hands on hips, admiring his clean, new venue. “I have to hand it to you, Lieutenant. This is going to be amazing.”

“All that’s left to do are the floors, painting, and landscaping.”

The crush was a mere two and a half weeks away. A hundred things could still go wrong. Manolo crossed his fingers behind his back that nothing would.

Sam turned to him. “Now what’s this about food?”

“I convinced Junie to let me put in an outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven. There aren’t many wineries that serve food, and those that do only have measly snacks. She’ll be the only game in town.”

“Hold on,” Sam said. “How far have you gotten with this harebrained scheme?”

“Applied for the building permit, ordered the appliances, and poured the patio. What’s the matter? Are you scared that building a bistro for Junie will take me away from your project? ’Cause you should know by now—”

“It’s not that.”

“You’re not going to slap my wrist again for being too involved with Juniper. Because if that’s where you’re going—”