Snippet

I sighed as I tossed the newspaper onto the passenger seat and got out of my truck. It was still early, but I couldn’t bear to sit there any longer; the sound of the fire alarm and the clonk playing over and over in my head like a jammed mix-tape.

I started to make my way over to the main building: an old brick affair that would have looked like a romantic French dream if it wasn’t for the modern extension on the side that looked like someone had stolen a small millennial build and stuck it on, hoping nobody would notice how out of place it looked. I was busy scowling at it when I almost involuntarily stopped in my tracks; my view re-directed to the left of the building. The house was shaded by giant live oak trees and beyond them were rows and rows of vineyards. The rolling hills of the colourful valley popping up behind them. It reminded me of a picture I’d seen of Tuscany a few years ago, when I’d debated doing the backpacking-across-Europe-thing after graduating, but had decided against it, incorrectly assuming my career wouldn’t wait for me.

“Quite a view, huh?” a female voice cut into my thoughts. I turned to the main entrance and saw a woman with silver hair and a men’s white cotton shirt over a pair of faded blue jeans stood watching me.

“I’ve certainly seen worse!” I smiled, shading my eyes. She wore colourful beads that glittered in the sun and from which, upon closer inspection, dangled a simple artisan-looking silver elephant. “You must be Rose.” I said, reaching to shake her hand.

After the obligatory formalities, we made our way across the winery floor, up a little flight of stairs and into a small airy mezzanine office which overlooked the main building. The room was full of houseplants and various wine prizes. The walls were dappled with photographs of three women, often holding glasses of wine, and of whom I assumed were the namesake of the business. Not your typical winery office, I thought to myself. Not that I’d frequented many. I settled in my seat across from Rose. She skimmed her eyes over the burns on my face, and asked how I was feeling. I lied and said I was never better.