Zinfandel 2019

Mateo de Luca

1960-2022

Father, Brother, Son, and Vintner

38.530176, -122.843896

A young woman was using a rag to wipe out dust and grime from the “V”. She worked her way along the remaining letters, using her breath to blow waves of silky chocolate brown hair out of her eyes. She didn’t have to do this often in winter – normally the rain would wash the headstone clean every few days, but it had been dry for nearly two weeks now. 

She finished cleaning the engraved coordinates, which led to a vineyard not far from here. There, the rows of Zinfandel and Syrah would be sitting dormant for the next few months.

“How stupid am I?” 

Nadia said this out loud to herself, standing up from the gravestone and turning her soft brown eyes up to the sky. She was half-expecting someone to respond, considering that she was surrounded by hundreds of souls. 

The darkening sky had filled with heavy clouds since she had begun cleaning. So focused on her task at hand, the woman who could tell you the exact week the first buds would appear on the woody grape vines in spring did not notice the cooler winds tickling her neck nor the increasing moisture in the air. 

It would rain any minute. Nadia felt ridiculous for spending 30 minutes scrubbing the headstone when the incoming downpour would handle the cleaning job in a matter of minutes. She remembered she came for another reason – she pulled a bunch of bright red poinsettia flowers wrapped in green ribbon from her bag and set it on the base of the headstone. The second gift: a bottle of Zinfandel 2019, made by the man who now rested under this headstone.

The first fat drop of water hit her dainty nose with a seemingly audible plop in the completely silent cemetery. Nadia sighed, saying “Merry Christmas, Dad”, patting the headstone before hurrying away to her truck. Raindrops began to aggressively pelt her head and shoulders, and she already felt soaked sliding into the driver’s seat.

She felt a bizarre mix of love and anger every time she started the ignition, hearing the familiar rumble from the throttle. The truck had been passed down to her from her father after his death last year, along with a modest amount of monetary inheritance. And the vineyard… Nadia felt a flicker of anger rise like a loose ember. Don’t go there, not before Christmas. 

She drove away from the cemetery as the leaves of the ancient-looking oaks flashed their silver underbellies, whipping in the wind. The river might overflow today she thought, observing the previously dry ground transforming into heavy mud. In 10 minutes she reached the river – during summer it was tranquil, moving lazily with fat trout that were just as lazy. Now, it frothed angrily, bubbling and swallowing branches, swirling with dead leaves and debris. 

Nadia observed the chaos for just a minute, but knew the sooner she left, the better. Her family and friends would be arriving soon, and the last thing she wanted on Christmas Eve was to get swept away from a wooden bridge that had been notoriously unlodged several times in past winters. 

She drove slow, headlights on, keeping an eye out for any deer looking for a dry spot to hide. Around the next corner, headlights came into view. The car was driving slowly too, and as Nadia drove closer, she became worried. It was a small sedan, maybe a Toyota or Kia – and it certainly didn’t have 4-wheel drive. She thought about the bridge and decided to flash her headlights. 

The car stopped after her signal, and Nadia pulled up, rolling down her window a crack. She was surprised to see a woman who seemed to be a bit younger than her. Nadia didn’t recognize her, but she did look somewhat familiar – possibly the daughter or young girlfriend of one of the vintners she had seen at some event or harvest party she would have attended with her father. She had high cheekbones, rosy from the heater of the car, and dark curly brown that swirled in every direction. 

“It’s a bit stormy to go wine tasting, no?” Nadia joked with the woman. The road only led to wineries, vineyards, and of course, the cemetery she had just come from. 

The woman seemed confused, stuttering slightly, “Ohh no ummm I’m actually trying to get to the cemetery, but this rain is having me second-guess it.”

Nadia felt a pang of sympathy for the woman. Who was she visiting? A parent, friend, or partner? Possibly a sibling? 

“Oh okay. I just came from there…yeah the river is getting pretty high with all the rain.”

The woman was nodding, looking back towards the road. 

Nadia, although she felt she recognized the woman, felt called to ask, “Are you from around here? If not, you should know that the bridge up ahead has been washed away in heavy rains like this before. And there’s a section of the road that’s dirt – well, no it’s mud now.”

The woman seemed incredibly disappointed, to the point where she could burst into tears at any minute. 

“Yes, I live in Healdsburg, so I’m familiar with that bridge. Thank you for letting me know…It’s just…It’s Christmas Eve…”

Nadia felt her heart ache for this lone young woman, not far from her age, who had lost someone. It seems it was probably recent, too. Maybe this was the first holiday she would spend without her loved one. 

Wanting desperately to ease the pain this woman was feeling, an idea popped into Nadia’s head, “You know what? Why don’t you stop by our house for a little bit and wait for the rain to clear? We live nearby – and we’re just having a small get-together with friends and family tonight.”

The get-together was a yearly Christmas Eve tradition of her family and their close friends in the wine industry. Everyone brought a bottle from recent vintages to share – they often did a blind taste test to see how well they knew each others’ blends and grapes. This would be the first year hosting it without her father. 

The woman was now smiling politely, but she didn’t seem entirely convinced. Nadia realized it was a little weird to invite a total stranger over to her family home, but she had a feeling they weren’t complete strangers – the more they spoke, the more she felt like she recognized her. 

“Once the rain stops, you can come back and check the condition of the road. You said you live in Healdsburg? You must work in the wine industry then – what’s your name?”

The young woman gave her a full smile now, her perfect set of white teeth showing. 

“Yes! My family does, and I got into it recently – last year. I’m Silvia – and you?”

The name Silvia rang a bell, but Nadia couldn’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Great to meet you. Someone in my family must know you then – Healdsburg is only a 20-minute drive from here. My name is —”

Before Nadia could introduce herself, the rain, which had been falling steadily, seemed to double its volume and intensity, drowning out the rest of her words.

Nadia shouted through the heavy downpour FOLLOW ME, motioning towards the direction she had been heading towards. Silvia gave a thumbs up and flipped a U-turn, now following behind the rumbling truck. 

The two women drove down the isolated country road in the dark, surrounded by oaks, brown chaparral, and rolling hills of dormant vineyards. After about 5 minutes, Nadia flipped on her blinker to let Sylvia know they would be turning on the next road. Another minute and the two cars were now safely pulling into a driveway. 

The warm lights of the ranch-style house seemed to pour out of the windows like honey, and a beautifully decorated Christmas tree could be seen from the driveway. Nadia knew it would smell delicious the moment they stepped through the door – her cousin was an excellent cook, and she would be prepping the baked brie and appetizers around this time. 

Nadia remembered her guest, and wanted to make sure she felt welcomed – it was somewhat of a weird situation. Her face seemed a little pale, and she was looking strangely at her truck – but the night had been strange, and Nadia would also be taking in all the details in an unfamiliar environment as this one to orient herself. 

“Welcome to our home! This is my mom’s house – my cousin and mom are here now, and more family and friends will arrive later.” 

Nadia explained the yearly Christmas Eve wine-tasting tradition as they stepped inside the cozy house, and then announced to no one in particular that she had brought a guest. Her cousin, Charlotte, stepped out of the kitchen momentarily, hands full with a bowl and spoon, stirring something furiously. Nadia explained the situation, and Charlotte agreed that it was best to stay put until the rain stopped, while Silvia nodded in agreement. According to her cousin, Nadia’s mother had run to the store last minute for a few ingredients crucial to tonight’s meal.

Nadia didn’t know much about cooking – but she knew wine like she knew every birthmark and freckle on her own body. She could tell anyone the perfect dish for each varietal, but she certainly couldn’t prepare the dish herself. 

“Can I offer you a glass of wine?” she asked, turning towards Silvia. Now that Nadia could see her in full light, she could confirm they hadn’t met before. She’d probably seen her at a distance or walked by her at an event. Silvia was an inch or so taller, probably around 25, making her 2-3 younger than herself. Nadia had previously thought she had brown eyes, but in the bright kitchen lighting, she could now see they were flecked with green and gold. Hazel – just like her father’s had been. For some reason, this comforted Nadia.

“Sure! I would love that – thank you so much.”

Nadia offered her a seat in the living room near the lively fireplace, the mantel decorated festively with sparkling ornaments and a bough of fresh pine. She turned back towards the kitchen to examine the wine she had brought up from the cellar earlier – all bottles made from grapes her father had harvested years before his death. Even the year he was fighting against cancer, he had managed to direct the harvest – more hands-off than usual, but still involved in every step with his abundant energy and rhythmic Italian accent.

“Hey Charlotte– do you recognize Silvia? She said her family works in the industry, and she started working in it last year – I’m not sure if at a vineyard or tasting room though. I feel like I recognize her from somewhere”. 

Charlotte was preoccupied with something else now – chopping something green and aromatic, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“Hmmm. Where does she live?”

“Healdsburg.”

“Let me think…Silvia..Maybe I’ve met her at one of those fancy wine-pairing dinner parties I was catering a few months ago. Not sure though.”

Nadia was surprised that Charlotte could answer her question while chopping at such lightning speed, leaves and stems flying. She turned her attention back to the collection of wine in front of her, twisting the bottles to examine the labels. 

Red blend 2018. Syrah 2015. Zinfandel 2019.

The labels had been designed by Nadia herself. She had painted with watercolor the vineyards in every season – budding in the spring, verdant green with drooping columns of jewel-like grapes toward the end of summer,  fire red and orange leaves after harvest, and the barren woody vines as they were now, in winter. With the magic of a graphic designer, the watercolors had become labels for the very bottles Nadia had in hand.

And these vineyards would have been mine too if…Nadia shut her eyes tight. She had pushed the thoughts away too many times today, and the anger began to consume her like how the fire-red leaves on the vines lit up the valley in November. 

…If dad didn’t have a secret family. It felt like a kick in the stomach each time she faced her reality. Nadia nor her mother knew of Mateo's secret mistress and the daughter they had together. This information had only come to light after his death. 

Mateo de Luca’s will had stated that his remaining vineyard be split between his two daughters. Nadia had been an only child her whole life, and now she was expected to split the vineyard with some person she had never met. She didn’t know her name or what she looked like, and didn’t care to know. She had wholeheartedly refused to step foot on the vineyard since the will reading took place exactly 13 months ago.

“Do you like Zinfandel?” Nadia called to Silvia. Not everyone did – it could be dry and jammy, high in alcohol, but a lighter red color than the other favorite reds. Personally, it was her favorite. 

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites!” Silvia called back. 

Nadia uncorked the bottle of wine with ease – it was the same bottle she had left on her father’s grave an hour prior. She poured a generous glass for both herself and Silvia, and returned to the cozy fireplace. 

It was nice to have new company. With her inheritance money, Nadia had signed up for her next sommelier training, and recently, had only been studying and in the company of her cousin and mother. Even though she felt she should be tending the vineyard that was hers and hers only, she would never completely leave the wine world. 

Nadia lifted her glass to Silvia, “Cheers to good wine, and new friends. And to the loved ones we’ve lost.” She was afraid the last part could be sensitive for Silvia, and wished she didn’t say it – for all Nadia knew, Silvia could have lost a sibling or best friend just a few weeks ago. 

But Silvia appeared fine, smiling her pretty smile and raising her glass. She took a moment to inhale the aroma, with a small swirl in the glass before taking a sip with her eyes closed. 

“Wow, this is really good. It tastes familiar – I wonder if I’d had it before?”

“Oh it’s very possible! It comes from a local vineyard. Actually, my dad’s. It was from a harvest a few years ago, before he passed away.”

Silvia’s face fell. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I…I actually lost my father last year. That’s who I was going to visit. At the cemetery.”

Seeing Silvia’s sadness made Nadia’s heart twist with the all-too-familiar feeling of sharp grief. 

“I’m so sorry. It gets better – sometimes. But god, is it hard sometimes. I…I hope the rain clears up soon and you can visit him.” Nadia tried to give her most positive smile, despite the fact that she felt the tears welling up in the back of her eyes. 

Silvia could sense it, changing the subject swiftly, “I’m so glad your dad gave us this gift. Cheers to him.” The both took a long sip from their glasses, allowing their tears to withdraw.

“Oh I’ll show you the bottle – maybe you recognize the vineyard. And I actually designed the labels!” 

Nadia stood up to grab the Zinfandel 2019 from the kitchen, and brought it proudly to Silvia. She smiled, setting her glass down to examine the label. As she handed the bottle to her new friend, Nadia saw movement in peripheral vision – Charlotte was motioning her from the kitchen, mouthing something. While Silvia was momentarily distracted by the label, Nadia tried to discern what Charlotte was saying.

Mister? Missed her? Is your? I know her? You remember? It was impossible to tell what Charlottle was alluding to – Nadia started to walk towards the kitchen, but Silvia’s stuttering voice stopped her.

“This…thi..this wine is…your dad’s?”

Nadia barely caught the end of her sentence as her voice became so quiet, almost a whisper. 

Silvia was clinging on to the bottle, tracing the watercolor-painted winter sky on the label with her thumb. She didn’t look up after speaking, eyes intensely focused on the bottle.

Clearing her throat and feeling incredibly strange, Nadia responded, “Yes. My dad made this wine.”

She was now standing halfway between Silvia and the kitchen, and she looked at Charlotte who stood frozen in place. Silvia Silvia Silvia she was mouthing desperately.

Nadia’s brain was processing at thousands of miles per hour – she had so much information entering her brain and she just needed a minute of quiet to process all of it. Before she had time to collect her thoughts, Silvia stood up suddenly, setting the bottle down on the glossy oak table. 

“I’m going. I’ll go home – I’ll try to go to the cemetery tomorrow. Tha– Thank you, Nadia.” 

“But–”, Nadie paused, she didn’t even know what she was going to say. Silvia’s brown curls bounced and swayed as she turned and strode swiftly towards the front door. She paused suddenly before opening the door, turning around to say, “I hope you come to the vineyard one day. I would love to get to know you better. Whenever you’re ready.”

And with that, Silvia opened the door and stepped out in the chilly, dark night. Nadia stood there shocked, not fully grasping the situation. She stood watching out the front window as her mother’s car pulled in and Silvia continued walking toward hers. 

She could hear her mother’s surprised voice even from inside the house, “Is that…What are you doing here?”

Nadia felt she should go outside, but her two feet seemed to be glued to the floor with mud. 

Charlotte came rushing up behind Nadia, barely breathing, saying every word as fast as it could come out of her mouth, “The name of your sister is-”

Silvia.