The Italian Sister (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 1)

by Christa Polkinhorn

  “Okay,” Sofia said slowly. “So what did your mother say?”

  Julietta groaned. “She thinks I am too young to go to a party with older guys.”

  Sofia hesitated. “I can’t really blame her. He is quite a bit older than you are and so are most likely the guys in his class who will be at the party. They may have different ideas what kind of entertainment they like.”

  “What do you mean? And he is only three years older.” Julietta kicked her clothes bag away.

  Sofia chuckled. “Well, you know what I mean. Boys his age usually want more than just dancing and having a good time. There may be alcohol and—”

  “I never drink alcohol. And I am not a child anymore. I am fifteen today.” Julietta’s eyes flashed and she glared at Sofia.

  Sofia sighed. “I believe you. You wouldn’t intentionally do anything you’re not supposed to. But I also know at a party with a lot of people and with a guy you really like, it is easy to lose control. It has happened to many young girls that they forget themselves and end up pregnant—”

  Julietta groaned. “Oh, please. You are even worse than Mamma. It is a party. I am with a friend. And besides, Marco’s parents are going to be there. So I do not think we are going to have an orgy with his parents there.” Julietta gave a dismissive snort.

  Sofia had to laugh. “Well, let’s see what your mother is going to decide. If his parents are there, perhaps it will be all right. When is the party anyway?”

  “In a week. Please you have to help me.”

  Oh, no. Sofia sighed when Julietta looked at her with her purple-blue puppy-eyes. The last thing she wanted was to get into a tug of war with her sister holding the rope on one end and Luisa pulling at the other end and Sofia being stuck in the middle. She could easily identify with Julietta’s desire for independence but she also understood and shared Luisa’s concerns.

  Chapter 22

  The Monday after Julietta’s birthday party was another day of work at Podere Francesco Ginori. As Luisa had told Sofia, the estate was named after one of the ancestors of her family who had started a small vineyard over two centuries ago.

  Edoardo who had tested the ripeness of the grapes had announced that Sofia’s field with the Merlot varietal was ready for picking. Everybody was in the field, working. They started at sunrise to get as much of the heavy work done in the cool early morning hours. By now, Sofia was familiar with the working routine.

  The workers were evenly spread out throughout the field, cutting the clusters of fruit and putting them into plastic containers along the rows of vines, carefully removing any damaged fruit. Later, at the winery, the workers put the grapes on a conveyor belt and checked them again for anything unsuitable. The grapes were tossed into a machine, a destemmer and crusher, and fed into the fermentation tanks, where yeast and sulfites were added. And now, the grapes sat “on the skins,” meaning the fruit including skins, pulp, and grape seeds were beginning to ferment. The shining huge steel fermentation tanks where the grapes sizzled and bubbled and did their magic always reminded Sofia of a modern version of a witch’s cauldron.

  The harvest was one of Sofia’s favorite times in the vineyard. Months of preparation and testing, of caring for the vines and grapes came to fruition on those days. A spirit of excitement permeated the whole estate. Picking the grapes was hard and sticky work but the joy of seeing the fruit ripened to perfection almost lets the vintners forget their aching arms, shoulders, and backs and the sweat pouring down their faces.

  In the evening, the workers often gathered around a fire to relax, talk, and have a good time. This evening, Sofia went home to take a shower before joining the other workers. Just as she was about to go out, someone knocked. Expecting Julietta, she was surprised when Luisa stood in front of the door.

  “You worked so hard today,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps we can share some wine from one of the past vendemmia. It is from your fields.” Luisa held up a bottle of red wine.

  It was the first time Luisa had come to Sofia’s place for a friendly visit. Usually they met at the main house or she would come by to bring something or give Sofia a message.

  Sofia invited her inside. “Let’s sit on the patio. It’s pleasant in the evening.” She went to get a corkscrew and two glasses. Luisa opened the bottle and poured the apple-red Sangiovese wine into the glasses. They swirled the wine a little, then put the glass down to let the wine mingle with the air or “breathe.”

  They sat quietly for a while, glancing at the yellow and green fields in front of them that turned golden in the early evening light. Finally, Sofia lifted the glass and smelled the wine. “Interesting,” she said. She hesitated, smelled it again. “Reminds me of flowers. But I couldn’t tell you what kind.” She laughed and inhaled the aroma again. “Complex.”

  “Yes. Enrico used to say that, too … I mean Henry. I used to call him by his Italian name sometimes.” Luisa gave a quick smile. She held the glass against her nose as well.

  Sofia nodded. She took a sip and let it stay in her mouth. “Spicy. I like the slightly tangy taste. Good tannin.” She took another sip and hesitated. “A touch of berry, from the Merlot?”

  Luisa nodded. “Yes, you have a good palate.”

  “Thank you. My father and I used to do it as a past time, taste different wines. He taught me a lot.” She gave a wistful smile and took another sip. “I love this wine.”

  Luisa nodded. “Yes, it is one of my favorite estate wines. Henry tried out several blends of Sangiovese and Merlot.”

  Both women were quiet for a while. By then, the sun was about to set with its typical colorful display. Birds, which had mainly been silent in the heat of the afternoon, began to sing and twitter. It smelled of dry grass and sage.

  Sofia sighed. “It’s so beautiful here. No wonder Dad fell in love with this place.” She turned to Luisa who looked straight ahead, then glanced at Sofia. She looked thoughtful, almost sad.

  “How did you meet my father?” It was a question Sofia had wanted to ask for a while but had always been reluctant to. Relaxed from the wine and the warm early fall evening, she finally had the courage to touch this delicate subject.

  Luisa glanced at her, then looked down at her hands. “It was a long time ago,” she began. She cleared her throat and took another sip of wine.

  “A friend of ours from Siena brought him here and introduced him. Henry was looking for Tuscan wine to import for his own estate in California, to add to his own portafoglio … how do you say it?”

  “Portfolio,” Sofia said.

  “Yes. He worked for a vineyard then, right?”

  Sofia nodded. “Yes, that was when my mother was still alive. We lived near the Russian River and Henry and some of his colleagues had a vineyard together.”

  Luisa swirled the wine and looked at it thoughtfully. “I am sorry, this must be difficult for you … about your mother, and Henry and I.”

  Sofia shook her head. “Don’t worry. My mother and father had a difficult marriage and my mother was never really present. I’m not angry at my father or at you. I just wish my father had had the courage to tell me about it. It was such a shock when I found out.” Sofia’s hand shook a little as she lifted her glass.

  “I know,” Luisa said. “I asked him many times why he would not tell you.”

  “What did he say?” Sofia asked.

  Luisa shrugged. “At first, he said he could not tell anyone. Then later and during the last visit, he said he would tell you and your aunt about me and Julietta. He would bring you here to meet your sister.”

  “Yes, but then it was too late.” Sofia brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

  “Yes,” Luisa said. “It was such a shock when we heard that he died. It was terrible for Julietta. She loved and adored her father and she was sad that she could not see him more often. And now, she will not be able to see him at all anymore. She still wakes up at night crying.”

  Sofia’s eyes filled with tears. “I know. I feel the same w
ay. But in a way it must even be worse for Julietta.”

  “I think it is good you are here,” Luisa continued. “It seems to help her. You are like a connection to him. You know what I mean?”

  Sofia nodded. “Yes, I feel the same way about Julietta. When we are together I feel Henry’s presence somehow. It’s difficult to explain.”

  Luisa nodded and poured them each another glass of wine. Sofia noticed that they had drunk about half the bottle and she began to feel the effect.

  “Henry must have been happy here,” Sofia mused.

  “He was … at first. He was very excited about the vineyard. Then we had a terrible year, such bad weather. We lost almost the whole harvest. And we had debts.” Luisa sighed. “My stepfather made bad investments. He wanted to grow the estate too much. We thought we had to sell everything.”

  “Your stepfather? You mean the old Mr. Santucci?” Sofia remembered that Adriano had told her about the family relationship and that Luisa’s real father had died.

  “Yes.” Luisa gave her a furtive glance. “My own father passed away long ago and my mother remarried. Unfortunately the wrong man. But that is another story.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  Sofia was both surprised and a little relieved. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who didn’t much care for the old man and the fact that Luisa had misgivings about her stepfather made Sofia feel closer to her.

  “The old Mr. Santucci seems to hate me.”

  “Do not take it personal,” Luisa said. “He does not like Americans. And the fact that an American owns part of the estate really bothers him. Although it is not even his property anymore, he still feels he is in charge.”

  “What does he have against Americans?”

  “Something happened during the war, the Second World War. I do not know the details. It was long before he met my mother and my family, sometime in 1943 I think. He was a boy then, but his father and uncle were in the Italian army. They were captured by the American forces and became prisoners and allegedly they were shot in cold blood by the Americans. There was a scandal about it because according to the law, prisoners of war have to be treated humanely.” Luisa shrugged. “It was war and I guess laws were not always followed. But the officers in charge of the killing were punished afterward. This is what Edoardo told me.

  “Losing his father and uncle like that really hurt my stepfather and supposedly created a real hardship for the family. As a result of this, his mother became ill and died shortly afterward. I guess it was a really tough time. He never seemed to have gotten over it and ever since then, he does not like Americans much.”

  “Boy, he must have hated my father, too, considering he ended up owning part of the estate.”

  “Yes. Had he known that Henry would end up being a partner, he would never have handed over the estate to us,” Luisa said and gave a little snort. “See, because he mismanaged the estate so badly, the bank refused to give us another loan. The only way they would consider it was if someone more reputable was in charge. So he decided to hand over the property to Edoardo and me. Also, at the time, he had some problems with his health and was not able to work much anymore. Anyway, he made one good decision in this whole mess and signed the estate over to the descendants.”

  “That must have been hard for him, giving up all the power,” Sofia said.

  “Yes, it was. But he figured he would rather give it to his children than lose it to the bank. The loan we got, however, was not enough to pay all the debts and support the estate. Then Henry offered to invest some of his own money and take over two of the fields. He had been visiting us for several years and bought some of our wine. He loved the estate and he particularly loved the Sangiovese and the Merlot vineyards.” Luisa stopped and gave a dreamy smile.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “Henry really saved us. It was thanks to him that we survived and that the estate is profitable again.”

  “So, what was Mr. Santucci’s reaction when he found out that my father owned two of the fields?” Sofia asked.

  Luisa smirked. “He was not too happy about it, as you can imagine.”

  “Jesus, I’m beginning to feel sorry for him,” Sofia said thoughtfully.

  Luisa shrugged. “I used to feel sorry for him, too, but he was so power-hungry, he brought it on himself. If he had not wanted to be the most powerful winemaker in Tuscany, this would never have happened.” Luisa poured them both another glass of wine. “Anyway, during that time, Henry and I became very close.” Luisa glanced at Sofia, then averted her eyes and looked out onto the now darkened fields. “That is when I became pregnant.” A pause. “But then after your mother died, Henry wanted to end it. He felt guilty; he felt he was somehow responsible for her death, that he did not do enough for your mamma.” She shrugged. “We began to quarrel. I wanted him to come here and live here. He said he could not.” She paused, picked up her glass again and drank the rest.

  “When we met we were both unhappy in our marriage. My husband had left me and Henry had problems with his wife, too. But later our love … Henry’s love for me was not strong enough.”

  Sofia turned her wine glass in her hand, then glanced at Luisa. “What about you? Your feelings?”

  Luisa shrugged. “I loved him more. I was really in love with him. But he became like far away … distant, I think this is the word. Eventually, my feelings for him cooled as well but we remained good friends. And he always loved and supported Julietta.” Luisa put her hand on Sofia’s arm. “Do not be angry with him. He was a good man. And it was my fault too, that we became involved.”

  Sofia, touched by Luisa’s sudden warmth toward her, shook her head. “You don’t need to apologize or feel guilty. What happened between you and my father is not for me to judge. I only regret I didn’t know earlier. It would have been so wonderful if we could have all sat here together. You, Julietta, Henry and I.” Sofia’s voice broke.

  Luisa nodded and Sofia saw tears in her eyes. She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m glad we talked about this.” Then pointing at the bottle. “We drank the whole thing. I don’t think I can walk anymore.”

  Luisa laughed and Sofia realized that it was the first time she heard the woman laugh out loud.

  “Oh, by the way. Julietta asked me to help convince you to let her go to Marco’s party. Please don’t tell her I told you.” Sofia hated to be a tattletale, but she felt she owed it to Luisa to voice her concern.

  Luisa shook her head and chuckled. “I know. I told her I would think about it. He seems like a nice young man but he is quite a bit older. He told me that he invited her because she helped him with his English.” Luisa shrugged. “But I think Julietta is a little in love with him. I do not want her to get involved in something that will distract her from her studies. But if I forbid her to go, she will still see him at school and it might drive her toward him even more. She is a strong-headed girl. If she feels I do not trust her, she will rebel even more.” Luisa sighed. “It is difficult to know how much freedom to give a young girl.”

  “I know what you mean,” Sofia said.

  “It was such a relief when Henry was here. He had no problems setting boundaries for Julietta. And she did not resent it the same way she does when I forbid her something.”

  Sofia nodded. “I can understand that. She probably idealized him.”

  “Exactly. He could do no wrong. But I am the mean mamma who is around all the time, always making demands.” Luisa smiled. “Well, I will talk to Monica’s mother and see what she says. We may let them go for a few hours and pick them back up early.”

  “Sounds like a good compromise,” Sofia said.

  After Luisa was gone, Sofia remained sitting outside for a while, watching the fields and hills sink into the blue-black night. It was still pleasantly warm and the soft evening breeze brought the scent of the freesia in the corner of the patio and a whiff of sweet ripening grapes.

  Sofia thought about her talk with Luisa, which seemed to have brought them cl
oser. Up to this evening, Luisa had struck Sofia as friendly but guarded and somewhat aloof. Now, however, she had seen a more vulnerable side of her, a warmth and passion she hadn’t experienced before. She could understand her father’s attraction to this somewhat mysterious woman, so unlike the distant and erratic woman her mother, Cleo, had been. Sofia felt sorry for her father who had to hide his love for both Luisa and Julietta for so long. But now Sofia and Julietta had the opportunity to solidify the relationship that her father began.

  Chapter 23

  With the grape harvest in full swing, Sofia and Julietta were busy most days, working at the different grape fields. Sofia wondered if there was a child labor law in Italy, but if there was, it wasn’t enforced on the estate. Julietta, being only fourteen, worked along with the adults. She told Sofia that she did it voluntarily and enjoyed it most of the times. “I do not really have to, but it is our family estate, so I want to help. Besides, I get a lot of extra pocket money,” she had said with a wink of her eye.

  Today, she told Sofia that her mother was still considering letting her and Monica go to Marco’s party. “She almost gave in yesterday, but then Uncle Edoardo said we were too young.” Julietta rolled her eyes and glared at her uncle, who worked in the field next to them. “He always puts his nose into my business,” she said with a scowl.

  “Well, he’s your uncle and he feels responsible for you,” Sofia suggested.

  “He is not my father, so why does he interfere?” Julietta snipped angrily a cluster of grapes and put it into the plastic crate along the rows of vines.

  “Perhaps now with Henry gone, he feels he needs to be something like a replacement father for you.”

  Julietta gave a quick snort. “Papa would have let me go.”

  “Are you sure, Julietta?” Sofia raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” her sister said angrily. “He knew he could trust me.”

  “I don’t think your mother and your uncle don’t trust you. I think they’re just concerned for your welfare,” Sofia said.