Drunk on Love(39)

Luke could feel the frozen smile on his face.

“Nope, I’m not that fortunate,” he said. “I’m Luke Williams, I just work here.”

“Oh.” He looked taken aback that there were apparently two Black men in Wine Country. “Well, is Elliot here to talk to us? And can we sit at those couches in the corner?” He gestured to the corner where the three Black women were sitting.

“Oh, unfortunately, there’s a party already sitting there,” Luke said to him in an even voice, like maybe the three women laughing and talking ten feet away from them were invisible to this dude in some way. “I’ll see if Mr. Noble is available. Why don’t you all sit down here, and I’ll get you your first glasses of wine?”

He’d noticed both Taylor and Margot do this, refer to Elliot as “Mr. Noble” around annoying guests who asked to talk to him in that demanding way, like they were summoning him to an audience. To normal guests, they just called him Elliot. No matter what, though, it was rare for Elliot to drop into the tasting room to talk to people—he was usually too busy working.

He saw the irritated expression on the face of the know-it-all and tried to smile at the rest of the party as he poured their wine, and then went over to check on the fun table in the corner, who were, yes, at the best table in the house.

“We were wondering,” the know-it-all said when Luke came back to their table with the second bottle of wine. “Are all of your grapes grown here in Napa Valley?”

At least he’d started with an easy one.

“Yes, all of the Noble Family Vineyards’ grapes are grown right here in Napa Valley,” he said. He might as well answer the guy’s next question before he could ask it. “Some—most, actually—right here on our estate, and then a small percentage of our grapes are grown elsewhere in the valley.”

It had surprised him, how quickly he’d started saying “our” in relation to Noble Vineyards and everything they made. It was silly, probably. But he already felt like part of this place.

“Where else in the valley?” the guy asked. Of course he did. Luckily, Luke had memorized this.

“A few small estates in Calistoga, one up in the hills in St. Helena, and one large estate in Napa. All of the wines that use one hundred percent of the grapes grown here on the Noble estate are clearly labeled as estate wine. Would you like a pour of our Napa Valley blend? It’s the next wine in your tasting—you’ll be able to compare it to the estate blend, which you’ll be tasting later.”

They all nodded, the guy triumphantly, the people with him with some relief that finally he was going to stop talking and they were going to get to drink wine. Or maybe that was just projection, since that’s exactly how Luke would have felt.

He knew the guy thought he’d gotten Luke to give him something extra because of all of the questions, when really, they almost always offered people a taste of the estate blend at the end of the tasting.

He stopped over at the table in the corner to move the fun group on to the next wine. Because they were so nice in contrast to Question Dude over there, he gave them—or the two who were actually drinking—heavy pours.

“This one is my personal favorite,” he told them. He lowered his voice. “But also, don’t rely too much on that—I started working here less than a month ago.”

He walked away from the table as all three laughed at that, even the one who wasn’t drinking.

The grin on his face faded as he dealt with Know-It-All again.

“Wasn’t there a fire here in the year of this vintage?” he demanded. “How are those really Napa Valley grapes, then?”

This guy seemed obsessed with the idea that they were, what, sneaking in grapes from across the Sonoma border? Or from somewhere in the Central Valley?

“There have been fires here in Napa Valley frequently, unfortunately, over the last few years,” he said. “Climate change isn’t great for the wine business. But fortunately for Noble, we managed to harvest most of our grapes just in time to save them, though there have been a few years where we’ve lost some vintages.”

There he was, saying “we” again, like he’d personally been there to harvest grapes. He should probably dial back his feeling of ownership here—this whole sojourn in Napa was supposed to last him only a few months, remember? Until he had to go back to his real life.

“Are you sure some of the bad grapes didn’t just . . . slip in?” the guy said. He lowered his voice. “You can tell me.”

This guy had a real attitude.

“Yep,” Luke said. “I’m sure.”

“Can we taste the difference between the same wine in different years?” He looked around at his group, like he’d just won something. “Just to . . . see.”

“We’d be happy to let you taste anything you like.”

Luke smiled as he heard Margot’s commanding, courteous, and clearly—at least to him—absolutely furious voice coming from behind him. The people at the table didn’t seem to notice how angry she was, but he knew, even without turning around.

“Hello. I’m Margot Noble, co-owner of this winery,” she said. “Luke and I will get those wines for you to taste. Please let me know if you have any other questions about the integrity of our winemaking.”