Free The Vineyard by Barbara Delinsky

did grow grapes and they did sell wine?”
    â€œMuch less than they do now, but yes.”
    â€œThen they were criminals.”
    Olivia didn’t want Tess
thinking
illegal, much less asking Natalie about it. “Well, Prohibition was very unpopular. More peoplewere against it than for it. That’s why it didn’t last very long. It was a bad idea from the start. Put down your window, Tess.” She inhaled as Tess complied. “Smell that?”
    Tess sniffed. “I smell dirt.”
    â€œIt’s earth. It’s earth that’s fertile and moist.”
    â€œIf there’s poison ivy here, I’m in trouble.”
    â€œYou won’t get poison ivy. I brought your medicine. You never get it when I bring the medicine.”
    Tess didn’t respond to that. She was sitting as far forward as her seat belt would allow, scanning the road again. “So, where’s the
vineyard?”

Five
 
    O LIVIA GUIDED THE CAR around a turn to a patch of farmland that at first glance looked simply scrubby and low. Then she noticed posts, wires, and a pattern of plantings. Exhilarated, she declared, “Right
there.”
    As the car cruised slowly closer, a world of neatly trellised vines became delineated, tidy rows of gnarled canes and branches with pale green canopies, sides trimmed and guided for maximum exposure to the sun.
    Some rows had signs.
Chardonnay,
read one. Farther on, another read,
Pinot Noir
.
    Olivia got goose bumps. It didn’t matter that the hard little BBs growing on the vines in June only remotely resembled grapes. After ogling Asquonset on paper for months, she felt as if she were in the company of celebrities.
    No. That was not the right analogy, she realized. Celebrity was shallow. The feeling here was almost religious. Driving more slowly up that pebbled road, flanked by descendants of the vinifera that had been producing precious European wines for hundreds of years, she felt a hush. And the awe seemed mutual. She imagined that the vineyardhad parted to let them through and would close up again once they passed.
    â€œWhat do the signs say, Mom?”
    â€œThey’re the names of grapes. Must be by section. That was Pinot Noir on your right. You know which side that is.”
    Tess often confused them. This time, she didn’t. She pointed right, then switched sides. “What’s that one?”
    â€œRiesling,” Olivia read and gasped. “Oh my.”
    A man had risen between two rows of vines.
    â€œWho’s
he?”
Tess asked.
    â€œOne of the workers, I guess.”
    â€œWhere’d he come from?”
    â€œHe must’ve been crouched down in there.” Standing now, he was taller than the highest trellis by more than a foot. She saw auburn hair, sunburned skin, broad shoulders, a maroon T-shirt with the arms ripped off and a tear under the neck band. He wore dark glasses, but he was clearly looking their way.
    â€œWhy was he crouched down?”
    â€œHe was working.”
    â€œWhy is he staring at us?”
    â€œNot staring. Just looking. We’re strangers. He’s curious.”
    â€œMom,”
Tess murmured out of the corner of her mouth, “why are you slowing
down?
He does not look nice.”
    No, in fact he didn’t—but Olivia hadn’t realized that she was staring, or that she had slowed. Facing forward, she accelerated gently.
    â€œI hope they’re not all like him,” Tess said once they were safely past. “He doesn’t want us here.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œHis face said it.”
    Olivia thought his face was pretty compelling. Somber and intent. But compelling.
    â€œSo, where’s the house?” Tess asked.
    â€œIt’s coming.”
    â€œWe’ll be at the river soon,” the child warned. Bless her, she had studied the maps and remembered Olivia’s narration. She knew that if the ocean was behind them, the river was ahead. Yes,