Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,129
see so many familiar faces here,” she said. “Thank you for joining us to celebrate the most special time of year at the vineyard, the harvest. I’m always reminded at harvest that a fundamental element of wine is terroir, or taste of a place.” Leah had spoken the words countless times over the years during her classes. But they had never meant more to her.
She’d read somewhere that a person could change everything about herself except her place of origin. And she’d seen this truth about the human condition play out in the book club novels: the heroines of each story managed to reinvent themselves, but they were always driven by their childhood experiences. Billy Ikehorn Orsini, no matter how rich and famous she became, was always a shy, overweight girl inside. Lucky Santangelo, no matter how powerful, was still the girl who lost her mother. And Leah, no matter how happy or successful in her life in Manhattan, was still the girl who had stood in that very spot, watching her glamorous mother with her friends, dreaming of the day when she would be a part of the winery herself.
She took a deep breath. “Hollander’s very first vintage of rosé will have a terroir created in part by the places that mean the most to all of us. And since your contributions tonight will literally help create this vintage, we’re offering exclusive presales of the Hollander rosé at the conclusion of the ceremony.” The women nodded, a few murmurs in the crowd. “Now, before we get started I want to say that the tradition we’re sharing tonight was started by our special guest, Maria Eugenia Argueta. Maria, along with her husband, Javier, began our practice of all contributing something to the starter yeast. And because of that, I’d like her to do the honors of adding the first item to the grape juice.”
Maria Eugenia was no taller than five feet, with deep-set black eyes that were still bright and sharp. Her salt-and-pepper hair was thick and wavy, tied back in a loose knot. She looked reluctant to step forward. Of course—the woman had just flown in from another country. Leah hadn’t meant to put her on the spot; she just wanted to give credit where credit was due.
Slowly, Maria Eugenia moved to stand beside Leah. Camera phone flashes went off, and Bridget climbed onto a bench to start shooting.
“Tonight, I give something from the garden outside my husband’s house here, the home where we started our family.” She placed a smooth white stone into the pot.
She returned to her place in the circle, and Vivian stepped forward. She was not reluctant to be the focus of attention. Her flawlessly tailored dress moved along with her like liquid, the gold necklace at her throat glinting in the candlelight. Surrounded by people on the veranda, her vast life’s work on display everywhere Leah could possibly turn to look, Vivian was in her element. She looked every bit the matriarch, the Earth Mother as declared on the cover of Town & Country all those years earlier. She was finally back center stage at her winery, where she belonged.
“My husband and I moved out here nearly fifty years ago when this land was a potato farm,” she said. “His family were vintners back in Argentina. Coming to the North Fork, I hoped we would build something that our children could continue. Something that could be shared for generations. Tonight, you’ve all become part of the future of Hollander Estates. And I thank you so much for being here.”
The crowd applauded, and Vivian’s lower lip trembled. Taking a breath, she said, “The first fruit we planted was our grape crop. But I had a real yearning for apple trees, and so we planted those next, knowing they would take years to bear fruit. And this apple I’m holding is the fruit of that tree.”
Sadie helped her steady the apple to cut off a slice, and Vivian dropped it into the grape juice.
One by one, their guests stepped forward and shared their offerings. Sadie contributed a leaf from outside her dorm: “Bringing my two worlds together.” Delphine brought a crust of bread from one of the restaurants she owned with her husband. Leah added a piece of rind from the English Wensleydale cheese she’d first spotted the day she told Steven she wasn’t returning to New York City. The first day she admitted to herself that her heart had never left those green fields.
When the