a flower shop where sunflowers leaned lazily toward the morning sun. Lexi stepped inside, alr

rammed with leather-bound volumes lined the walls. The ai

ooked up from her desk and stood. "I'm Elisabett

nd. It was small,

ever you're ready,

her throat

der waited between them. Elisabetta opened

ago," she said. "He left everything-the house,

ked. "Eve

ryth

ected this. She had assumed she'd get a portion

t thing about running

dfather believed you would learn. And he ma

able. Lexi stared at her name, written

-

arest

this, then I am gon

home now, but this vineyard is in your blood.

't explain in time. But trust the vines, and trust your instinc

always, Non

-

slowly, pressing her fi

hot, and the flower shop smelled like basil and

this reall

-

already in the field, clipboard in

rt work before bre

"The vines don't care abo

. "Well, I have good

suffer firs

the vin

an eyebrow. "An

selling

approving nod. "Th

he vines. Green,

he

id, handing her a pair of pruning sh

-

y way, more like a subtle energy, a pulse of history beneath

," Étienne said behind

wing her eyes. "Is that vineya

, unbother

w easily he

hing her fingers across the bark, trying to remember what it had felt like as a child-wh

-

shb

r while her grandfather kneaded bread. The s

vines, Nonno?" she'd a

p of her head. "Because everything that grows liste

-

a basket from the back of his car-bread, cheese, tomatoe

red," she said,

scany. We l

a seat across from him. The s

ato in her mouth. "Why did he hire you? There must

aid he needed someone who wasn't afraid to challenge him. S

t that perf

nown to break

ell, Giovanni definitely didn't

"Then we had... sp

weight of silence return, that odd sensation that sh

eryone knows something

y. Instead, he refilled her gla

ou more than land. Maybe

. "What kind

roots. The kind that doesn

s pants. "Come. There is

-

d gone in years. Past the newer rows into a section whe

" Étienne said. "Planted

rough bark. The vines se

s ago," he continued. "Giovanni said the soil here

an eyebrow.

ng to a locked cellar d

. The rusted handle, the heavy wood, the way t

r mention t

o. But I haven't been h

ling out a small k

id you g

ournal. Taped to

k click

. A strange chill rolled out, l

ined the perimeter, dusty bottles with faded labels stacked neatly. In

his?" Lexi

Your grandfather's secret vint

," Lexi t

ered it in competition. I think i

bottle, something t

-

shb

ndows as she sat curled in her grandfather

ts again," she said,

es. For something the world wi

-

exi reached for the bo

d he hi

head. "That's fo

golden light of late afte

. It was a puzzle. A legacy wrapped in vines, g

ked at

ng for sure: she was