Saved by the CEO(14)

"I don't think the next vintage is ready." As Nico explained yesterday,  the liquid needed to ferment at least five years before it was  considered ready for bottling. "He said something about relabeling the  remaining stock as Amatucci reserve."

"Relabeling and jacking up the price to reflect the reduced supply,"  Marianna mused aloud. "An old winemaker's trick, although few pull it  off as well as my brother does. There's a reason he's won the country's  Winemaker of the Year two years in a row."

"He has?"

"You didn't know?"

"No." She'd had no idea. "I knew the winery was successful." The sheer  scope of his operations said as much. "But I didn't know how much so."

"Much as we tease him, my big brother has done very well with our family  business. He's considered one of Italy's brightest wine stars."

"Careful, Marianna. Keep saying things like that and I'll believe you  mean them." The subject of their conversation strolled in wearing a  cocky grin. As Louisa had come to expect over the past couple of days,  he already bore the evidence of hard work in the sun. The sight of his  glistening biceps made her stomach flutter.

He nodded in her direction. "Although I hope you're suitably impressed."

"I am," she replied. "Very." Smug as the man was, the only awards he'd  ever mentioned were the medals various vintages had won over the years,  and those he attributed to the grapes, not to himself.

Now that she thought about it though, he didn't need to trumpet his  accomplishments. His self-confidence said everything. "I was telling  your sister that you planned to relabel the Amatucci Red," she said.

"Nothing wine lovers love more than to think they are getting something unique. And in this case they are."

He smiled again, straight at her this time, and Louisa found herself  squeezing the arm of her chair. Who knew legs could give out while you  were sitting? When he turned on the charm, it was all a person could do  to keep her insides from turning to jelly. What her ex-husband could  have done with magnetism like Nico's... With a little charm, a man can  sell anything, Steven used to say.

Only Nico didn't just sell, he made wine. Good wine that he worked hard  to produce. He came by his success honestly. That was what she found  impressive.

Across the way, his baby sister offered a disdainful sniff. "Don't  compliment him too much, Louisa. His head is big enough as it is."

"Not as big as your belly," Nico replied. "Are you supposed to be out in that condition?"

"You're as bad as my husband. I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I'm also bored stiff. Ryan is in Melbourne until tomorrow."

"So you came here looking for entertainment."

"Isn't that what big brothers are for?" the brunette asked, winking in Louisa's direction.

Louisa felt herself smile in return. Marianna's openness had her  flummoxed. She was so certain she would be furious at her for involving  Nico in her scandals. Yet here she was, joking as if none of the stories  had ever happened.

"If you're going to stay, you're going to have to work," Nico told his sister.

"You want me to pick grapes?"

"No, we-" waving his arm, he indicated himself and Louisa "-can pick  your brain. That is the reason I am here," he said. "We need to decide  what the winery is going to do for the festival."                       
       
           



       

"You haven't decided yet?" Eyes wide, Marianna pushed herself straight. "Little last-minute, don't you think?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been busy. We still have time." He  sounded confident, but Marianna rolled her eyes nonetheless.

"What kind of contribution are you talking about?" Louisa asked. More important, what did Nico expect from her?

"All the major businesses in Monte Calanetti are expected to build a  float for the festival parade," Nico explained. "Something that  celebrates the harvest or Tuscan heritage."

"Decorated with native foliage," Marianna added. "Grapes, olives, flowers."

"Wow." Louisa hadn't realized the festival was so elaborate. In her  mind, she'd pictured a street fair similar to the St. Anthony's Feast in  Boston's North End. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

"It is," Marianna told her. "Everyone works together to decorate and all  the businesses compete to see who can outdo the others. The winner gets  to display the harvest festival trophy. Amatucci Vineyards came in  second last year. We created a miniature version of the plaza, complete  with a working fountain." Pulling out her phone, the woman tapped a few  buttons before turning the screen toward Louisa. "See?"

The photo showed Nico standing in front of the fountain, hands upon his  hips. His smile dripping with pride. He looked like a superhero.

"Impressive," she murmured. Bet whoever took home the trophy didn't look nearly as good.

Marianna assumed Louisa meant the float. "Well, we started planning  early. It's nearly impossible to assemble a prize-winning contribution  at the last minute."

"Nearly, but not completely impossible," Nico retorted. "All we need is a good idea."

"Don't forget time," Marianna added.

Her brother waved her off, the same wave, Louisa noticed, his sister had  used when dismissing the newspaper articles. "We will keep the design  simple. It's not about being complicated, it's about being memorable.  Like an Amatucci vintage."

His sister rolled her eyes again as Louisa stifled a snort. She was  beginning to think some of his audacious behavior was on purpose. To see  what kind of reaction he could elicit.

As far as the parade float went, however, he might have a point. She  tried to remember the New Year's parades she used to watch on television  as a kid. Most of the floats were a blur of colors. "Is there a theme?"  she asked.

"Oh, there's always a theme," Nico replied. "But no one pays attention."

"No one meaning Ni-"

All of a sudden, Marianna gasped and clutched her stomach. Louisa and  Nico were on their feet in a flash. The brunette held up a hand. "No  need to panic. The baby kicked extra hard, is all. Going to be a little  football player, I think. Uncle Nico is going to have to practice his  footwork." Her face radiating maternal tranquility, she rubbed her  swollen stomach. "Are you ready to play coach, Uncle Nico?"

Louisa's heart squeezed a little as the image of Nico and a miniature  version of himself chasing a soccer ball popped into her head.

"I'm not sure I'd be the best coach," Nico replied. It was an uncharacteristically humble comment.

"I suppose you'd be happier if he or she wants to pick grapes."

"I-I just think we shouldn't be making plans for the child's future yet. It's too early. You don't want to court bad luck."

Funny, Louisa wouldn't have pegged Nico as the superstitious type. She  supposed it came from being a farmer. No counting on the harvest until  it happens or something like that.

Marianna acknowledged his reluctance with a frown. "Fine," she said. "We'll wait until he or she is born before making plans.

"Although I still think she's going to be a football player," she said under her breath.

They brainstormed ideas for a while, until a problem in the wine cellar  drew Nico away. Louisa and Marianna continued for a little while longer,  but it was obvious the pregnant woman was beginning to tire, despite  her protests.

"Story of my life," Marianna said with a yawn. "I can't do anything for more than a half hour before needing a nap."

"Might as well enjoy it while you can," Louisa told her. "Who knows when you'll get this much sleep again?"

The brunette nodded as if she'd delivered some great wisdom. "So true.  I'll call you tomorrow and we can talk more about the project."                       
       
           



       

The two women walked to the front door. As usual, the few employees in  the production area watched as they passed by. Marianna waved to each  one with a smile while Louisa tucked her hair behind her ear and tried  to act nonchalant. The past hour, watching Nico and his sister tease  each other back and forth, had been the most relaxed she'd felt in  forty-eight hours. She hated the idea that as soon as Marianna left, the  atmosphere would go back to being tense and awkward.

They'd reached the door to the front office when Marianna suddenly turned serious. "May I ask you a question?" she asked.

Louisa's stomach tensed. Things had been going so well. What would  change Marianna's mood so abruptly? It didn't help to see the other  woman looking over her shoulder for potential eavesdroppers. "Of  course," she said. "Anything."