“Thank you for your help,” Kelly said, accepting the room key. “Our daughter and son-in-law will be here shortly. Would you let them know which room we’re in?”
“Actually, your daughter called and requested that the Figueroa Room be reserved for you. She’d read about us on the Internet and found out it was our largest room. I remember talking to her, because I thought that was a very sweet thing for her to do.”
“So do I,” Kelly said. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it.”
*****
“Mike, this is gorgeous.” Kelly ran her hand across the polished wooden dresser. “Look, all the furniture appears to be period or very good reproductions.”
“Have to say reproductions, sweetheart. Anytime you have a hole in the desk for a cell phone charger, I don’t think it’s authentic.” Mike set the bags down and perched on the bed, bouncing up and down a few times to test it out.
“You’re probably right, but those flowers in the yard are definitely real. This place is absolutely beautiful. And look, here’s a bottle of wine and wine glasses. There’s a note with it.” She opened it and read, “To Mom and Dad. Looking forward to having a wonderful time with you. It’s signed Julia and Brad. How sweet.”
“I agree, and speaking of them, I think I just saw their car pull into the parking area,” he said, walking across the room and looking out the window. “They’ll probably be up here in a few minutes. Let’s see if we can put a couple of things away, although it’s definitely a plus that the room is large enough for a couple of chairs. We can all sit down for a few minutes. I wonder if they brought pictures of the girls.”
“I think Julia knows how disappointed Grandpa would be if she didn’t, so my bet is she did.”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. “Julia, Brad, we’ve so been looking forward to this. Life in Calico Gold must agree with you, because you both look fantastic,” Kelly said as she warmly embraced both of them. Mike walked over, kissed Julia, and shook hands with Brad.
“How are my girls?” Mike asked a few moments later. “I’ve been thinking about them a lot, and although I know this isn’t the place for them, I miss them.”
Julia exchanged a knowing smile with Kelly. “Tell you what, Mike, give us about twenty minutes or so to unpack and get organized, and I’ll be back with a bunch of photos for you as well as some pictures they drew especially for you.” She looked at her watch. “Our tour is set for 3:00 this afternoon, and I have a driver picking us up at 2:30. That gives us about an hour to catch up. Back in a few,” Julia said as she and Brad walked out the door.
True to her word, twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door and Mike opened the door for them. Julia was holding a folder. “Okay Grandpa, sit down. Here’s the latest from your little friends as well as some shots of the ranch, which I thought you’d like to see.”
“Good grief, it never occurred to me that they’d be old enough to go into Brownies.” Mike said as he began to leaf through the photos, handing them to Kelly after he’d seen them first. “Pretty soon they’ll be off to college, and I will have missed it all.”
Julia laughed. “Don’t panic, Mike, I think we have a few years left before that happens. They’re both very bright, but I don’t think the colleges will be lining up in a year or two to give them an early admittance scholarship. Anyway, these are the photos of the girls. Also, here’s one of Sam, the dog that was your aunt’s,” she said, pointing to it. “He’s getting pretty old, so we got the girls a couple of puppies. Here’s a picture of SamIAm and Samantha. They’re border collies, and very good companions. True to their heritage, they herd the girls in the same fashion that they were bred to herd animals.”
Mike looked over at Brad. “Speaking of animals, Brad, is John Wilson still renting part of the ranch as a pasture for his cattle?”
“Sure is, Mike, and we’re still allowing him to get water from the stream that runs through the ranch. It works out well for both of us. We use the barn, a couple of acres of the land, and the greenhouse, and he’s pretty much got the rest. Since it’s our land, we can ride our horses wherever we want on it. And by the way, your granddaughters are getting to be quite the little horsewomen,” Brad said as he puffed out his chest. “They’ve joined the local 4H club which has a branch that teaches horsemanship, and they’ve both won ribbons in a number of events they’ve entered. We’re pretty proud of them.”
Kelly’s eyes shone with pride as she looked over at her daughter. “Sweetheart, you and Brad have to be the best parents in the world. And it’s wonderful you were able to relocate and be the caretakers of the ranch Mike inherited when his Aunt Agnes was murdered. I think it’s ever so much better than big city living,” she said, giving her daughter a hug.
“Mom, the girls would agree ninety percent of the time, but right now the one thing they keep asking me with regularity is when we’re going to take them to Disneyland. Quite frankly, it’s never been number one on my list of things to do. I think they’ve heard too much from their friends and the media about it. Anyway, it will give them something to look forward to someday.” Julia smiled and started putting the photos back in the folder.
“I think someday should come sooner rather than later,” Mike said. “What do you say, Kelly? Why don’t we take the girls to Southern California for a trip, and we’ll go to Disneyland? We can rent a place on the beach, and they can play in the ocean as well.”
Kelly looked at him open-mouthed. “Ummm, Mike, maybe we should discuss this later,” she said in a low voice.
“Nope, I’ve made an executive decision.” Mike slapped his hands on his knees. “If my granddaughters want to go to Disneyland, they’re going to Disneyland, and you can tell them that, Julia. The only thing that needs to be decided is when.”
“Well, so much for my input,” Kelly said laughing. “Okay, I give. Disneyland here we come, at least here we come pretty soon.”
Julia shared a smile with her husband before speaking, “Mike, Mom, I can’t even begin to tell you how excited the girls are going to be when they hear about this. How about next summer? Doesn’t make much sense to go to the beach and not be able to play in the water because of cool winter temperatures. How does that sound to both of you?”
“Sounds great,” Mike said. “That will give us both plenty of time to get ready for it. As a matter of fact, I’ve never been to Disneyland, so this will be a first for me, too.”
“Mom and I have,” Julia said rolling her eyes, “but it was not one of my best memories. It was really hot when we went, and there were so many people. I remember trying to see everything that was going on at the Main Street Electric Parade, and I just got overwhelmed. I was glad when we got back to the hotel, but I was probably the only kid in the world who felt that way.”
“Well, that works out perfectly, then,” Mike said. “You have no desire to take them and I want to, so it’s been decided. I think it’s getting close to the time when the driver you hired is supposed to pick us up. We probably should go out in front, so we don’t keep him waiting.”
The four of them walked down the stairs and saw their hired car in the driveway waiting to take them to the Moretti Winery for the private tour Julia had arranged.
CHAPTER 7
“Julia, this is a totally new experience for Mike and me,” Kelly said as their hired car headed out of town towards the Moretti Winery. The roads were quiet as they sped past fields planted with row after row of grape vines for as far as they could see. “Are there some do’s and don’ts we should be aware of?”
“From what I understand, this is a private tour, just the four of us. When I talked to the tour guide, she said she’d give us an overview, then take us out to the vineyard. She’ll tell us some things about the grapes, etc., and then she said we would have a tour of the building where the wine is fermented, and we’d end up in their tasting room. She mentioned we’d be served a platter of appetizers with different kinds of cheese, nuts, and other things that woul
d go well with the different wines we’ll be tasting.”
Kelly hesitated and then said, “Julia, would it embarrass you if I didn’t drink much of the wines? Would that be considered a faux pas? I don’t want to spoil the rest of my trip just because I have to do what’s considered politically correct.”
“Mom, if you’d ever been to a wine tasting, you’d know it’s perfectly fine not to drink all of the wine that’s poured for you,” Julia assured her. “As a matter of fact, when you visit wine tasting rooms there’s always a container to pour the wine you don’t want into, and go on to the next one. They call it a “dump bucket” or “spit bucket” for a reason. I usually will just swirl a little around in my mouth and pour the rest of it out, however, given that this is a private tour it may be different. But no, don’t feel that you have to drink all of it, and if one doesn’t appeal to you, don’t drink it.”
“That makes me feel a lot better. Ever since I got your email I’ve been wondering how I could handle it.”
“Looks like we’re here,” Brad said, pointing. “I see a sign for Moretti Winery over the gate up ahead.” He turned to the driver and said, “We were told to just open the gate, and you could drop us off in the small parking lot next to the tasting room. The tour guide said it was the first building on the right. Thanks so much,” Brad said as he counted out cash for the driver. “We’ll see you back here at 5:15.”
Julia opened the car door and said, “This is as beautiful as what we have in Calico Gold, although in a different way. Look at the acres of vineyards, really, about as far as the eye can see, and we couldn’t have picked a more beautiful day.”
The four of them walked across the parking lot and headed to the well-marked tasting room. On the walkway leading to the steps was a sign that said, “Welcome, Julia, Brad, Mike, and Kelly.” When they got to the porch the door was opened by a very attractive middle-aged blond-haired woman wearing a white cowl-necked sweater, large gold hoop earrings, blue jeans and sandals. “Welcome to the Moretti Winery. My name is Josie Martin. Which one of you ladies is Julia?” she asked.
“That would be me. I’m the one you talked to. This is my husband, Brad, and my mother and father, Mike and Kelly Reynolds. As I told you on the phone, I teach classes on wine, so I am really excited to be here.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to make your time here worthwhile. Please, come in.” They followed her into a large hallway with comfortable chairs. Off to one side was a room which looked like it had been set up for a wine tasting. Offices and a restroom led off of the hallway. She indicated for them to take a seat and handed each of them a glass of chilled white wine.
“As I show you different bottles of wine today, you’ll notice that each one has a distinctive label, and that’s because there is a story that goes with each one. The owner’s wife, Signora Moretti, grew up on the family estate in Tuscany. The main house was a replica of a 16th century castle. She says some of her favorite memories were hiding from her nanny and her governess in the castle. She tells wonderful stories of the places she could get into that they couldn’t. That’s the reason for the staircase and the door under it depicted on the label of this bottle of wine. You’ll notice that the label bears the name in quotes, ‘Scala’ which means staircase in Italian.
“What you’re drinking is a lovely smooth wine that’s perfect for drinking before dinner or served with a fish entrée. It’s also one of my favorites for having a glass of wine in the afternoon with friends. What do you think of it?” she asked.
“It’s delicious,” Julia said. “Is it readily available if I talk about it in my classes?”
“Julia, I apologize. When we spoke on the phone I told you I would give you some more advanced information on our wines, and I left the written materials I wanted to give you at my house. Is there any chance you could come back tomorrow and pick them up? I think you’ll learn far more from that information than you will today. Given what you told me about the classes you’ve taken and the certificates you’ve earned, while the tour is always of interest, you’ll probably be familiar with most of what I’ll be telling you.
“But, in answer to your question, no, the Moretti wines are sold only during a tour, to members of the Moretti wine club, or at a few very high end restaurants here in Sonoma. We have a rather small vineyard, and our production is quite limited.”
“Why is that?” Kelly asked. “I would think if the wines are popular the owners would want to produce as many bottles as possible.”
“Generally that’s true, Kelly, but this winery is a little different. Moretti is the name of the main vineyard located a few miles from here in Napa. It’s quite large, and as a matter of fact, they buy grapes from smaller vineyards which don’t have the capability to make their own wines. It’s far more commercial than this winery. I’m sure you’ve seen Moretti wine in the local stores where you live. However, Signor Moretti wanted to experiment and see if he could produce award winning wines, and with this winery, he has.”
“Josie, are you saying that all of the wines this winery produces are award-winning?” Mike asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying, but with a caveat. We only produce six different wines here. That allows for absolute quality control both in the vineyard and during the winemaking process. Come, it’s time we go out to the vineyard, and I’ll show you. Please, help yourself to more wine if you’d like to take a glass with you. After all, you paid for the tour,” she said laughing.
For the next half-hour, Josie showed them the various different grape vines in the vineyard. She explained how the grapevines had originally been grafted, that the grafting process was ongoing, and that the grapes had all recently been handpicked by seasonal workers hired by Juan, the vineyard manager. She went on to explain that the picked grapes had been put through a sorting machine, destemmed and crushed, and the juice was then pumped into huge metal vats where the fermentation process takes place. Once the fermentation process was finished and the grape juice had been converted to wine, it was transferred to barrels for aging.
“I’ve heard that very few wineries handpick their grapes, because it’s so labor intensive. Is that true?” Julia asked.
“Yes. Compared to a machine that goes down each row and grabs the clusters, handpicking is a very old method of selecting grapes. You’ll notice that there are still some grapes on the vines. Those are the berries that the picker felt were not quite ready, so in addition to being labor intensive, Juan only hires pickers who know which grapes are ready to harvest and which ones aren’t. The pickers will come back in another week or two and pick the remaining grapes. Our workers are paid well which is probably another reason why the Moretti wines from this winery are not cheap nor easily bought. Now it’s time for me to take you to the vat barn and show you the room where the magic takes place. Please follow me.”
CHAPTER 8
They walked across the small parking lot to the building where Josie said the magic took place. Kelly noticed several homes beyond the building and curiously asked, “Josie, I see several homes spread out over there. Who lives in those?”
“We are very fortunate here at the Moretti Winery. Signor Moretti wanted to hire the best people he could for his boutique winery and as an inducement, he offered to let them live rent free in a house located here on the premises. I live in the one on the right, Jim Barstow, the manager of all that takes place here, lives in the center one, and the far one to the left is the home of Angela and Matteo Lucci. Angela is the winemaker for the winery, and I would have to say, probably the best winemaker in the valley. She and her husband worked for the Moretti family at their vineyards in Tuscany, Italy.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that the staff at wineries had perks like that,” Brad said.
“Mostly, they don’t,” Josie replied. “As a matter of fact, I believe this is the only winery in Napa or Sonoma where it’s done. And the homes are not small. I have three bedrooms, so when my son and daughter com
e to visit, there’s still plenty of room for them. Signor Moretti felt that when the staff is being fairly compensated, they will do a better job, and I think he’s right.”
The doors on the large building were slightly ajar and Josie motioned for them to join her as she stepped into the building. They walked into an expansive room, which was dominated by six large twenty-foot-tall stainless-steel vats and beyond the vats hundreds of wooden barrels were stacked in rows, one on top of the other, four high.
“This is where everything takes place. We call this building the vat barn. The vats are filled with raw grape juice which is allowed to ferment and turn into wine. Then it’s transferred to barrels when Angela decides it’s time. You’ll notice several kinds of wooden barrels. Each type of oak barrel imparts a different character to the wine. Angela also decides which barrels she wants to use and what percentage of the different kinds of the grape juice should be blended into each vat to create the desired type of wine. It’s a very exacting process and obviously, she’s very good at what she does.
“A sample of wine is taken each morning and sent to a laboratory in Sonoma for analysis. Additionally, Angela takes a tiny taste from the vats each evening. Once the wine is transferred to the barrels, it won’t be disturbed until it comes time to bottle it.”
“How does someone take a tiny taste from something as large as that vat?” Mike asked.
“Very carefully. You can see that the vats are covered by a fitted metal lid at the top. There is a latch which can be released to allow the lid to open. Angela dips a tiny wooden cup attached to a long metal handle into the vat to get the sample. The wine in the vat gives off a huge amount of carbon dioxide as it ferments, and it can be lethal if someone places their face over the open lid for too long of a time. Every year there are stories of people falling into wine vats and dying after they have accidentally inhaled an overdose of carbon dioxide.”
Murdered By Wine: A Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery (Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series Book 13) Page 3