Free Ring of Truth by Ciji Ware

awful... and I apologize for bringing it up. I was just being a nosy reporter.”
    She was startled when he placed his hand on her arm and gave a slight shake of the head.
    â€œYou don’t need to apologize. You wanted to know about the ranch and my role here. It’s fine. Really.”
    Once again, at his touch, a strange tingling spread up her arm and the moment seemed suspended in space as if they’d slipped off the time wheel and were simply there together with clear, crystalline space surrounding them.
    Ren turned and pointed. The tree-filled hills came back into focus.
    â€œWould you like to see how honest olive oil is made?” he asked.
    All Kerry could manage was to offer a slight nod and follow him back uphill to where he’d parked his pickup truck.

Chapter Four
    Kerry’s breathing had almost returned to normal by the time they’d driven back to the gravel parking lot. Once inside the low-slung bottling facility, Ren gave her a quick rundown about the process of the mill turning olives into Montisi Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
    â€œThese large stainless steel troughs are where the olives are separated from the leaves and branches, washed, and eventually pressed by that large, revolving stone disk over there that crushes the fruit and extracts the liquid,” he explained.
    â€œOlives are fruits?”
    â€œYep. They grow on trees and have pits, so they qualify,” he said with a laugh. “This first pressing—done ‘cold’ without heat or chemicals and hence, the term ‘Extra Virgin’—eventually ends up in large vats before being decanted into bottles like the ones you purchased at Amphora Nueva, or the oil is stored in stainless steel drums.”
    â€œLike the one I saw you deliver to them yesterday, yes?”
    Ren nodded, continuing, “Unlike wine, olive oil is best when used as soon after it’s harvested as possible.” He pointed to a bottle sitting on a nearby counter. “See... we stamp the harvest date, not the bottling date—which, with some outfits, can be a couple of years after the olives are picked and pressed.” He pointed to a back shelf. “There are a few dusty bottles sitting there from last year that are probably rancid by now.”
    â€œIs it true there is a certain amount of fraud and misleading advertising in your business?” she asked, suddenly putting on her reporter’s hat.
    â€œJust read Tom Mueller’s book Extra Virginity and you’ll learn all you need to know about that subject.”
    Kerry nodded. “I read the original piece Mueller did for The New Yorker , which got him the book contract, I heard. So you agree with his analysis?”
    Ren grimaced. “Not only do I agree, I’m living with the consequences of my product being undercut by mislabeled olive oil posing as Extra Virgin... but that’s a longer conversation.” He stole a glance at his wristwatch. “Want to have a quick tour of the ranch’s kitchen garden? Then, I’ve really got to check in with our chef and staff about today’s lunch.”
    â€œAre you sure you have time to show it to me? You could just point me in the right direction and then direct me to your office. I promise I’ll stay out of your way until my fellow foodies arrive.” She was grateful that he had been willing to spend so much time with her, given the imminent arrival of some serious VIPs.
    â€œWe’ve just got time. I want you to see every carrot and herb plant, ’cause I’m hoping you get at least five blogs out of what you’ve seen today,” he teased, pointing toward a screen door and guiding her outside the olive mill and into the parking lot again.
    All during their tour she had been snapping photos on her iPhone and paused to take a picture of Scuzi, Prego, and the barn cat named Ciao. The three animals were outside the building waiting patiently for Ren to