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The laugh that bursts from me is so unexpected, it startles even me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh, Mother.”
Her face transforms with a bright smile, but my father’s expression remains impassive.
“This is serious, Vicente,” he says. “What your mother is trying to say is that we need to see a change in you to trust you with the vineyard. Being in a committed relationship will be a big step toward that.”
Wait. What? That’s not what he said earlier.
“How did we go from, 'if you don’t want to take the vineyard, we’ll sell it’ to ‘if you don’t get married, we won’t give you the vineyard’?” I ask, dumbfounded at the change of rhetoric.
My father begins pacing, and I track his every movement. He needs to clarify, because right now, he isn’t making any sense.
“We don’t want the Godoy legacy to die with you,” he finally says. He doesn’t finish the thought, but I can fill in the blanks.
“And before you suggest we give the Godoy legacy to Karina or Gabriel,” he adds, “we’ve already thought about it. They have their own legacies to pass down to their children.”
Both my parents step closer, and all the anger I’m feeling starts to slowly dissipate.
“I’m sorry that, as the eldest child, the responsibility falls on you,” my father says. “But we know you can do it.”
They pull me into a hug, and although I’m starting to feel a bit more relaxed, my mind is reeling.
Where the hell am I supposed to find a wife?
“I promise, I’ll have an answer before the next planting season,” I hear myself say.
Fuck, I need a filter. ASAP.
“Thank you, son. An answer—that’s all we ask for. It doesn’t matter what it is,” my father says, his voice finally calm and sincere.
But as much as I want to believe that, I know the vineyard and marriage are now tied together. I need to give the vineyard an honest chance. And if I feel I can take it on, then I need to find a wife while I’m there.
After a fifteen-hour flight, I land in Santiago on Sunday evening. Heat and humidity hit me the moment I step off the jet. My parents must truly love their kids, because I wouldn’t trade six weeks of this weather for cold and cloudy days in Italy.
Fernando, my father’s second-in-command, is waiting for me just outside the jet. When I see him, I approach with an outstretched hand.
“Vicente, what a pleasure.Bienvenido.”
“Hi, Fernando. Thank you for picking me up—you could have sent someone else,” I say as we make our way to his truck.
“It’s no bother, Vicente. I figured we could talk about what needs to be done at the vineyard.”
What is he talking about? Last time I checked the vineyard’s finances, everything seemed to be in order.
“Is there anything in particular that’s worrying you, Fernando?” I ask, choosing to hear him out instead of jumping to conclusions.
“Oh no, nothing’s wrong,” he replies, waving a hand dismissively. “I just thought that it’d be good to show you some areas where we can optimize the winemaking process. It’d not only save costs, but also help close the gap between us and some competitors.”
I lift an eyebrow, and Fernando chuckles knowingly.
“No, no. I’m not talking about Karina and Luca. They're in a league of their own.”
Relief washes over me, and I laugh lightly. No amount of money in the world would make me turn into an influencer like my brother-in-law. Luca started a YouTube channel to vlog his travels, and somehow ended up boosting our vineyard’s sales the summer he came to Chile after Karina. Now that he and Karina have their own vineyard, his channel has made their property the go-to location for weddings and tours in the Maipo Valley.
I’m happy for their success, but it’s not what we’re after at Hacienda Carmen. Our vineyard is more traditional—we focus on exporting excellent wine, not creating a vineyard “experience.”
“Well, I trust your judgment and will be happy to discuss it further with you tomorrow morning.”