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“Of course, I understand.”
We moved on from the white wine to the red Marquette blend, and Carlo tasted it carefully. “Is that pink grapefruit at the end? This is quite lovely.” He took another sip. “Black cherry, raspberry. Herbal tea?”
“Yes,” Bruce said with a small smile. “It’s a hardy grape, suitable for cold climates. Gives us medium body wines with a little punch at the finish.”
“You’ve done a nice job with it. How long is it aged?”
“Around eight months.”
As we settled in with a glass of the Cabernet Franc, Carlo regaled us with stories from some of the wineries he’d worked in. He was personable and expressive, humorous, talked with his hands, and could hold command of a room. I could see why he was so successful. I liked him quite a bit, even though I’d been prepared to hate him.
“Have you visited a lot of American wineries?” I asked.
Carlo leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I spent three years in California and Washington, so I’ve seen quite a large number. This is my first trip to the East Coast, though.”
“Where are you staying?” Bruce asked,
“At the B&B.”
I reached for a bite of spicy soppressata, parm and fig jam. I had to hand it to Massimo—he could really rock a charcuterie board. “Fair warning, Salvatore will talk your ear off if you let him.”
Carlo chuckled. “I don’t mind. I have a big family and we like to talk.”
Did he mean his own family? He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but as I’d learned the hard way, not all married men wore theirs. “Do you have a lot of kids?”
“No kids. But I have a lot of siblings and cousins.”
“You never married?” Bruce asked.
“My job keeps me on the road. Perhaps in the future.” He slid me a curious look, his blue eyes searching my face. “And you, Maggie? Are you married?”
“Me? Oh, no. I hardly have time for dating, let alone anything serious.”
Carlo lifted his nearly empty glass. “This is why we have wine to keep us warm at night, no?”
I heard myself giggle, which was strange, but I was feeling pretty good. I hadn’t eaten anything since the pancakes, and this wine was delicious.
The upstairs door banged. Maybe Massimo was sending more snacks. Did he take requests? Because a meatball sub sounded really fucking good right now. I popped a stuffed pepper in my mouth and chewed, then heat exploded in my mouth, the burn working its way over my tongue and stealing my breath. Coughing, I lunged for my wine and took a sip, hoping to dull the sensation, but I ended up wheezing harder.
Over the sounds coming from my lungs, I heard Carlo’s instructions for me to breathe in and out, in and out. His palm rubbed between my shoulder blades soothingly. After a few seconds, the fit eased and I was able to take a proper breath. “Allora,” I heard him say. “Drink this.” A glass of water was pressed into my hand.
As I took a grateful sip, my gaze locked on Vito, who was now paused at the bottom of the stairs, his expression granite. He stared directly at me and he didn’t look happy. I don’t know how I knew that, I just did. With his wet hair and dark suit, he was intimidating. I preferred him in glasses and pajama bottoms.
He approached the table. “Are you alright?”
“Fine, thank you,” I rasped. My heart thundered in my chest, which was obviously due to the coughing fit and not Vito’s sudden arrival.
Vito's eyes slid to where Carlo was touching me, then continued on to the oenologist. His mouth was tight as he said, “My apologies for running late.”
Carlo’s palm slipped off my back as he rose. “Signore D’Agostino. An honor to meet you in person.”
Vito offered his hand and the two men shook. “And you, Signore Leoni. Thank you for coming at such short notice.” Then Vito said something in Italian, the words clipped and forceful, and Carlo nodded a few times.
Vito unbuttoned his suit jacket and lowered himself into the chair at the head of the table, directly between me and Bruce. “Shall we sit? You may catch me up.” He reached for a plate and began taking food from the charcuterie board.
“Heads up,” I said. “Those peppers are super spicy.”
“Are they?” Vito took mostly meat and cheese on his plate. “I appreciate the warning. Which of the wines are we tasting?”