Casa Parisi

by Janet Albert

  "The blue bottle is perfect and I trust you and Luke to name the other blend. Just run it by me the next time we meet." Lucia didn't wait for a reply. "I'd like you to make one or two Champagnes for us in the future. People ask for them all the time."

  "I can do that. I enjoy making Champagnes the traditional way by fermenting them naturally and aging them in the bottle. It's a complicated process and it takes a lot longer, but the results are worth it. We could start with a blanc de blancs since that's made using only chardonnay grapes and then we could make other Champagnes as long as we have the right grape varieties. I'll have to talk to Luke about that."

  "I don't care how you do it or how long it takes," Lucia said. "As long as you head us in the right direction and they turn out good."

  "I've always wanted to make pink Champagne. I already have a name for it."

  "What is it?"

  "Pink City Champagne," Juliet said. "As you probably know, we'll have to call it New York State Champagne on the label to designate the origin of the grapes. Current regulations require that we do that."

  "I'm aware of the laws. That's one area I am familiar with," Lucia said without any hint of edginess in her tone. "How did you come up with the name Pink City?"

  "My mother lives in Toulouse, France. It's known as the pink city because so many of the buildings are made of pale pink bricks. It's really a charming place."

  "I love the name," Lucia said. "We can do a little blurb on the label about Toulouse. People go for that sort of thing."

  "Since we're talking about the future, I'd like to ask you something," Juliet said. "You have the right wines in the cellars to make a dry rosé and I'd like to do that in the next few weeks. Would that be okay with you?"

  "I know the other wineries are experimenting with them," Lucia said.

  "Yes, they are. And I know how to make a good one. Rosés can be made many ways and they run the gamut in color and sweetness. You also should have a semi-sweet rosé. You don't have one and they're always very popular. Rosés go well with spicy foods and barbecue flavors and that makes them a good wine for lunch and summer foods."

  "Then make them for us," Lucia said. "We can put them on our café menu." Lucia smiled and paused as though she was wondering what to say next. "How do you go about making a rosé? Give me a quick lesson."

  "There are a few different ways, but I prefer to use a process known as bleeding." Juliet went on to explain. "You begin by fermenting red grapes with the skins on and then you extract ten percent of the juice when you achieve the right color for your rosé. That juice is then aged in stainless steel tanks. Rosés tend to be thin and that method produces a more full-bodied wine while still retaining the delicacy rosés are noted for. If I feel it's needed, I blend in other red or white wines to enhance the flavor."

  "I had no idea it was that complicated."

  "It can be, but anything is simple if you know how to do it."

  "Thank God your job is to make the wines," Lucia said. "We'd be in serious trouble if I had anything to do with it."

  Lucia seemed relaxed, even lighthearted and when she was like this Juliet enjoyed being with her. If she would always be this way, work would be a lot more pleasant.

  "You run the business," Juliet said. "That's important to everyone's success."

  "Thanks for saying that." Lucia stared briefly and then she said, "Tell me something. Is your mind always busy thinking of the wines you're going to make even when you're not at work?"

  "Mostly I think about it at work, but I confess, I do think about it at home." Juliet's cheeks felt hot. Lucia would assume she had nothing better to do and no other passions in her life. "A photographer sees pictures in their mind, an artist sees paintings in everything around them, and I think about grapes and wines."

  "To me, you are an artist," Lucia said.

  "I'm surprised to hear you say that. Most people don't get the creative aspects of my work." The subject matter was getting personal and Juliet reminded herself that they were about to cross the threshold into dangerous territory. Would she ever be able to carry on a normal conversation with Lucia and not want to reveal so much about herself? Would she ever get control of her need to know more about Lucia? To avoid conflict she decided to tell Lucia about an idea she and Luke had tossed around a few days ago.

  "Luke and I want to freeze a section of vignoles on the vine this fall for an ice wine. We thought we'd call it Crystal Vignoles unless you have a better suggestion."

  "The name is fine and I love the fact that you're going to do an ice wine. I want you to make the wines we want but I also want you to make the wines you think we need, the wines we haven't even thought about making. That's why we hired you."

  "I won't do anything without consulting you and Luke."

  "I know." Lucia seemed satisfied and changed the subject. "While you're here, I've been meaning to ask you if you'd go to the Atlanta wine competition with me in July. It's the third weekend."

  "Of course, that's part of my job." Juliet discovered she was unexpectedly excited by the prospect of going away with Lucia. "I've never been to that one."

  "We'll leave on Friday morning and come back on Monday. When we meet with Luke this week we'll decide which wines to enter. I'll get us registered, ship the wines there and make all the travel arrangements. I thought we'd share a room with two beds if that's okay with you."

  "That's fine," Juliet said. "Have you been to any other competitions?"

  "This will be my second. Luke took me to the Finger Lakes Wine Competition last year. It was a great way to network and get free publicity. I'm not invested in whether we win any medals, although if we do get one or two, I won't turn them down."

  "The medals help sell wines," Juliet pointed out.

  "I grant you that," Lucia said. "I have another reason for wanting to go to Atlanta. I thought I might visit some old friends while we're there. They were my neighbors when I lived there and I haven't seen them for a while." Lucia studied Juliet's face.

  Juliet waited out the silence, not sure what to say, but sure she shouldn't ask Lucia questions about her friends or her past. She was relieved when Lucia left things where they were and took the conversation in another direction.

  "Tell me more about yourself. Were you born and raised in Montreal?"

  "Oui." Juliet answered in her native tongue. Evidently, Lucia wasn't of a mind to steer clear of personal topics although this one seemed harmless enough.

  "I like it when you speak French. It sounds beautiful."

  "I only said, yes."

  Her response made Lucia laugh. "True, but I understood it."

  "C'est la langue de l'amour." Juliet loved French, loved to think it, speak it and hear it said out loud. It rolled off her tongue like a soft caress. She translated for Lucia. "It's the language of love."

  "Deservingly so." Lucia still seemed amused. "Does your family still live there?"

  "My parents divorced many years ago. My father re-married and he lives there with his wife and her two children from a previous marriage. My father and I aren't as close as I'd like to be, but I do go to see him about once a year."

  "Where does your mother live?"

  "She was originally from France. After they divorced, she went back there."

  "I guess you don't see her very often, either."

  "No. I've only seen her once since I came back from my training in France. She was never what I'd call maternal. She re-married a few years ago and she's totally absorbed in her new life. Her husband has money and they like to travel."

  "You've been on your own a long time, haven't you?"

  Juliet nodded, trying not to reveal the sadness Lucia's question had evoked. As much as possible, she tried to minimize the feelings of loneliness and isolation that had been an integral part of her life ever since she was a child. Her studies, her years of training, and her passion for her work had always been what she used to fill the void.

  "I hope I didn't strike a chord." Lucia had
noticed after all.

  Juliet chose not to admit that she had. "Have you ever been to Montreal?"

  Lucia shook her head. "Do you have any sisters or brothers?"

  "I have one sister. She's ten years younger. My mother took her to France when she left my father and I stayed in Montreal. I saw her when I lived in France, but we weren't able to bridge the gap between us. Now she lives in Geneva with her husband and we call or e-mail each other two or three times a year."

  "Luke's my only sibling," Lucia offered without being asked. "We grew up in this area, but now my mother and father live in Arizona. Mom despises cold weather."

  "You said you used to live in Atlanta. Did you like it there?"

  "It was nice." Lucia's eyes were dead again when they connected with Juliet's. In an instant she sprang to her feet. "I don't know about you but I have things to do. We'll talk again some other time." She headed for her cottage.

  "Wait, I'll walk with you." Juliet struggled to get to her feet.

  "Don't bother," Lucia said behind her. "Sit out there as long as you want."

  Juliet stood on the deck staring as Lucia hurried inside and shut the door soundly behind her. That last question about Atlanta seemed innocent, but obviously it hadn't been since it had driven Lucia away. If Juliet had known it would upset her she wouldn't have asked it. She considered herself a kind, thoughtful person, although what was she to do when she didn't know what might trigger that kind of reaction? It seemed that every time she got two steps closer to Lucia, she did something that pushed her back four or five steps. Based on that formula she was getting nowhere fast.

  Chapter Eight

  ON THURSDAY EVENING Lucia walked into Ms. Georgie's bar and reclaimed possession of her usual barstool. Her treatment of Juliet during their conversation on the deck the day before had bothered her since it happened. Even now she cringed inside as she recalled how she had stormed into her cottage leaving Juliet sitting there alone like a fool. Juliet's question as to whether she had enjoyed living in Atlanta had posed no real threat and she had no reason to overreact the way she had. It would have been easier on both of them if she had just given Juliet a simple answer to a simple question.

  Lucia had returned to her office that afternoon and had stayed there until the winery was closed. Only after everyone else was gone and Juliet's car was no longer out front did she walk to her cottage. She couldn't face running into Juliet and even though she'd thought about going to the cellars to look for her, to tell her she was sorry, she never did. How could she explain her behavior to Juliet? She couldn't even explain it to herself.

  Intending to spend a quiet evening at home, she had taken a shower and afterward she had tried to take a nap, but her troubled thoughts would not let her rest. It wasn't only the way she had treated Juliet that kept her awake. Her most disturbing memories kept rising to the surface no matter how hard she tried to force them down. Finally, unable to tolerate any more torture, she threw on a pair of jeans and a chambray shirt and drove to the bar.

  "How's business, Georgie?" Lucia asked when Georgie greeted her.

  "No complaints. I own the only lesbian bar in town so business is as good as it's ever gonna get." With a twinkle in her eye, Georgie added, "I'm a monopoly."

  "Even if you weren't, who could compete with this?"

  "I'm glad I don't have to find out." Georgie frowned as though Lucia's true meaning had begun to sink in. "Hey, watch what you say. This place may not be fancy, but it's all mine and I'm proud of it. I'm doing what I want to do and I'm my own boss. What more could I possibly want?"

  "Not a damn thing, I'd say," Lucia said. "How about getting me a drink?"

  "Will do." Georgie slapped a coaster down on the bar in front of Lucia. "What brings you in here on this boring old Thursday night?"

  "I thought about drinking at home, but they say that's a bad sign."

  "Last I heard," Georgie said, "So is drinking yourself numb in some bar."

  "Why the fuck should you care? I'm spending my money on your overpriced vodka. That's all you should care about."

  "You're in a mood." Georgie leaned on the bar. "Just for the record, my vodka is the good stuff and it doesn't cost any more than anyone else's."

  "I stand corrected," Lucia grumbled, stewing in her own juices. This wasn't the first time she'd shown Georgie her ugly side. She was probably damn sick of it by now.

  "And also for the record, I am grateful for your business," Georgie added. "But that doesn't mean I'm not interested in you as a person."

  "Forget I said what I said," Lucia grumbled. "Forget everything I said. Now would you please get me a drink?"

  "Sure. No problem." Georgie moved to another section of the bar for a brief time and when she came back, she plunked Lucia's drink down in front of her.

  Lucia lifted the glass and took her first long swig, flinching as the vodka stung her throat. "That's more like it." She wrestled a wad of crumbled bills out of her pocket and threw them onto the bar. "Keep them coming."

  "Things that bad are they?"

  "Yeah, things are that fucking bad. What of it?" As soon as those nasty words flew out, Lucia wished she could bring them back. Yesterday she'd been mean to Juliet and now she was attacking Georgie. No one was safe in her presence.

  Georgie shook her head. "Can't seem to stop with the attitude, can you?"

  Lucia didn't answer. She vowed to herself that she would make more of an effort to be civil. "Are you alone tonight? Where's Bernie?"

  "Bernie has the night off. I don't make her work every night, no siree, not me. I just make her work every weekend." Apparently, Georgie had enjoyed her remark. Her sturdy laugh sounded as if it had rattled the bottles on the shelves behind her.

  "What about your wife? Did she get lucky and get the night off too?"

  "You are such a hoot," Georgie said. "Joan's at home and I don't make her work at all, not that it's any of your business. She comes in a lot because she enjoys being here with me. How'd you get on this shit, anyway?" Clearly, Georgie was no longer amused by their little repartee. Her brow was wrinkled, her lips clamped in a thin line.

  "Oops, I guess we'd better talk about something else." Lucia scanned the bar. Some of the regulars were hanging out at a few tables and two women were seated at the other end of the bar. "Same old boring crowd, huh Georgie?"

  "That same old boring crowd, as you call them, keeps me from going out of business during the week. Saturday night comes once every seven days and that won't do it."

  "I only meant it was slim pickings," Lucia clarified.

  "Does that mean you're on the prowl?"

  "You sound like you disapprove."

  "Hell, no, I don't have a problem with that. I'm privy to a lot of dyke drama around here and I'd be the last one to judge anyone for what they do. It's hard to believe looking at me now, but I was a heartbreaker in my younger years."

  "You don't fool around now that you have Joan, do you?"

  "No way. I value the life we have too much to bother with that crap. These days my world is getting narrower and my waistline is getting wider, at an alarming rate I might add." Georgie paused to snicker at what she'd said.

  "That's cute, Georgie."

  "I'm serious. My life is simple and I love it. I adore my wife and my dogs and I love this bar and that's plenty good enough for me."

  "You're lucky. You're surrounded by love." Lucia's speech sounded slurred, even to her own anesthetized ears. God knows what she sounded like to Georgie.

  "I am lucky and I'm no fool. Joan would beat my head to a pulp with that baseball bat she keeps next to our bed if I ever cheated on her."

  "That's an incentive to behave." Lucia lifted her glass. "As to being on the prowl, this is all the company I need tonight." She made a show of draining her glass. "Looks like it's time for a refill. Why don't you get me one?"

  Georgie grabbed the glass and got Lucia a fresh drink. Lucia downed half of it in two gulps. She would never pick up one of the locals
and run the risk of running into her over and over again. Her rules were simple. The women she hooked up with were not told her name and she never took them home. Even Georgie didn't know where she lived or what she did for a living.

  Georgie busied herself and chatted with other women at the bar, but no matter where she went she kept one vigilant eye on Lucia. Eventually, she must have run out of things to do and people to talk to because she leaned against the counter near the cash register with her arms folded across her chest.

  Lucia waved her empty glass in the air. Even though Georgie was trying to be subtle, Lucia knew she was watching out for her.

  Georgie frowned when she came over. "Another one?"

  "Don't look at me like that. Just get the drink."

  Georgie didn't say anything until she came back with the drink. "You should go easy on that stuff. I don't like to meddle in the personal affairs of my regular customers, but I'm no stranger to pain. Your pain will still be there when that vodka wears off."

  "It helps for a while even if it doesn't last."

  "That may be true, but here's what bothers me. You drove here and I don't want you driving home drunk."

  "All right, Mother, I'll slow down."

  Georgie snapped her comeback. "Calling me names doesn't upset me. I'd be more upset if I had to read about you in the newspaper tomorrow."

  "You won't have to read about me. I'll be fine."

  "So you say." Georgie leaned closer. "I'm all ears if you need to talk about what's eating away at you. It might help."

  "First you're my mother and now you want to be my therapist?"

  "Look, you--" Georgie shook her head and pursed her lips. "I don't want to be your mother or your therapist and right about now I don't want to be anything to you. Excuse the hell out of me for caring." Georgie turned a cold back and scooted to the other end of the bar to wait on a couple of women who were waving at her.