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“New owner?”
“He’s the one who changed the name to Sunshine Cellars.” She waves to the name written in chalk at the top of the board behind her. “Four years ago we sold the winery to an investor, but he doesn’t have any interest in running the place himself.”
I tilt my head, trying to follow the line of thought. “So he bought it…just because?”
Jackie laughs. “He gave it to his new wife for her birthday, actually. I still haven’t decided if it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, or if he’s just that eccentric.” I laugh with her, but she shakes her head and smiles. “Although, if you ever saw them together, you’d probably think it was romantic. They’re here at least once or twice a month, and he still looks at her like she hung the moon.”
My phone dings with an incoming text. I’m curious about the ownership situation here, but need to focus on solving my dilemma first.
Alyssa: Unfortunately, we are booked that day. Is your date flexible?
Me: No. Mrs. Springer hired an astrologer/influencer who has her convinced that because of this future baby’s star signs, the moon, the shape of her dog’s last shit, and the flap of a butterfly’s wing in Costa Rica, this baby shower has to be in three weeks at exactly 10:47 a.m. Also, save-the-dates have already gone out.
I set my phone down on the bar top with a sigh. Alyssa’s string of crying laughing emojis flash on the screen before I turn to Jackie and point at the open bottle of pinot noir in front of her. “I will take that glass now.”
Jackie pours me a glass and slides it my way. My sister’s laughter reaches me from across the open space, but I stay put, too frustrated to join the group yet.
“What kind of work do you do? I would have guessed real estate, but something tells me that’s not right.”
The rich taste of red wine fills my senses as I sip. For a moment, I’m distracted, wondering if Kel had anything to do with the creation of this lovely wine, but I put the thought away. “Event planner. My current client is being—well, to put it politely—apart from the date of the event, I can’t get her to commit to anything, and I’m running out of time.”
“That sounds like a nightmare.” Jackie gives me a sympathetic look.
“It is. It’s in three weeks, and we still don’t have a location confirmed because she’s changed her mind so many times.” I take another sip, letting the fruitiness of the wine bloom in my mouth before swallowing. “I don’t suppose you know somewhere I can book for a baby shower?”
“In three weeks, you said?” Jackie pulls her phone out, and a tiny flame of hope sparks inside me. I try not to fan it, in case she’s just looking for a contact to share. But this place would be amazing.
It’s my first time out here—since I moved to Portland a little over a year ago, I’ve spent my time building my business instead of exploring the area. I’m always on the lookout for new venues, but I haven’t seen any telltale signs of them holding events here. No patio heaters or storage sheds, no photos of events here on the walls. The new owners really aren’t doing much to promote the place.
“And what time?” Jackie’s follow-up question fans the flame of hope inside me, and I have to suppress my wiggle of anticipation.
“Mid-morning? Ideally, my client would like to start just before eleven, but I could probably convince her to start at ten.” My hand clenches my phone. Please, please, please let this woman say we can have it here.
The building is perfect, large enough for the forty or so guests on the invite list but not cavernous. My friends are sitting by the large brick fireplace built into one wall of the building, a cozy grouping of couches and overstuffed chairs arranged in front of it. The space between the fireplace and the wine bar is currently taken up by a scattering of two and four person tables that could easily be rearranged into one or two long tables.
The southwest facing wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looks out over a narrow back porch before dropping away to reveal the slope below covered in rows of grapevines. I imagine sunsets here are full of gorgeous golden light.
Jackie chews on her bottom lip for a minute, staring at her phone. “We don’t usually rent out for events—but I don’t think Sophie would object.” The last part is more to herself than to me so I stay silent, not wanting to spook her and ruin what might be the salvaging of my dilemma.
“If you can convince her to start at ten, I think we could delay opening until one. Would that give you enough time?”
Relief washes through me at having a potential solution—now I just have to get Caroline Springer on board. “That would be amazing. Do you mind if I take a couple of pictures to show my client?”
Jackie smiles and waves me on. “Go ahead. Just let me know as soon as possible. I’ll need to let the owners know and dig up my old contract.”
I slide off the stool, my phone already out and ready to snap photos. “Jackie, you’re a lifesaver.” I pull my card from the holder on the back of my phone case and slip it to her. “My business info is all here. Can I call you on Monday or Tuesday to talk details?”
Taking the card, Jackie nods, her eyes darting to a couple walking in the doors. “Tuesday would be better. I have a good feeling about it, though. It was a pleasure.”
I laugh and pick up my glass to head back to my friends. “It almost makes me glad I pissed off your son out there, since it means I got to meet you.”
“My son? Kel isn’t my son, but he is a grouch.” The couple who walked in approach Jackie, and she shakes her head, our conversation trailing off as she turns her smile on them. “Hi, folks, welcome to Sunshine Cellars.”
Kel
Another Subaru full of women drives past, waving at me as they kick up a cloud of dust on their way down the hill. Coughing, I retreat into the safety of the vines that line the dirt drive and continue my inspection of the grapes in this field. Since veraison began in this field three weeks ago, I’ve been keeping an eye on the fruit—watching the telltale change from green to red spread through the bunches and vines as the grapes ripen. Harvest is likely still a couple of weeks away, but there is a ton of work to do between now and then.
Hopefully, the brunette I chased off the ridge was with the group who just left. The last thing I need right now is a pretty woman wandering around my fields, spreading germs and who knows what else to my vines. I told Jackie we needed to put a rope or something there, but she claims it’s Sophie’s favorite view and people are smart enough to stop at the end of the path. That ridiculous woman just proved my point.
