Tasting Notes by Cate Ashwood Read Free Book Online

headaches he used to get when he first started the company. They were a bitch and fucking difficult to get rid of too.
    He let his head fall to the side. Opening his eyes, he tried to get them to focus. When they finally cooperated, they landed on the small building perched on an outcropping on the hill. It looked like a tiny shed, the wood grayed with age. Next to it stood six barrels stacked in a pyramid formation. West squinted to make out the words in faded white paint on the side of the building.
    Lennox Hill Winery.
    He was immediately whisked back into memories from his childhood, when his grandfather took him on vacation to a resort vineyard on a cliff overlooking Lake Michigan. He was fourteen at the time and utterly confused as to why his grandfather would take him to a winery. He remembered the attitude he had in the car as they drove down the winding driveway toward the main guesthouse. His grandfather really was a saint for putting up with his bullshit.
    Once they checked in to their room, his grandfather took him out to explore the field of vines. The lushness of the leaves and the warmth of the sun that day were still vivid in West’s mind. When his grandfather showed him the spot where his parents exchanged marriage vows, his grandfather’s reasons for bringing him there snapped into focus, and West cried for the first time since their funeral.
    West shook off the memory and got out of his car, then walked up the driveway toward the larger building that was set back from the edge of the hill. There was a small patch of barren grapevines that grew in the center of an oval-shaped area at the top of the drive. The main building was concrete, the corners and details done in orange brick, and the stalks of vines that would be bushy and full come summertime grew along the walls.
    Despite the more contemporary feeling of this winery, the atmosphere was reminiscent of the vineyard on Lake Michigan. West pushed open the front door—a large wooden door carved intricately with a scene from the mountains, an etched glass arch above it—and stepped through into the shop. A large bar ran along the back, bottles of wine displayed with empty glasses at intervals along the surface. Tables created from halved barrels with glass tops held more bottles, as did the crisscrossed recesses that ran floor to ceiling along two of the walls.
    “Welcome to Lennox Hill. Can I offer tastings of anything for you?”
    West heard the voice behind him. He turned to see an elderly woman dressed smartly in a gray dress. Her glasses were adorned with crystals, and her lips were bright red.
    West glanced down at his watch. It was a few minutes shy of noon. He really should be halfway to Eureka by now, but one little tasting wouldn’t take long. He had stopped in after all. For what, he still wasn’t sure.
    “That would be lovely, thank you.”
    The woman smiled warmly and walked behind the bar. Gesturing to the bottles perched in front of him, she asked, “Any preference?”
    “I usually prefer reds,” he replied. “Merlot or Cabernet if you have it.”
    “We do.”
    She launched into an explanation of the different varietals and vintages. West was only half paying attention. The other part of him was soaking in the warm comfort of the place. Dark woods and soft edges made the space relaxing and inviting. He sipped at the two glasses she poured for him, just enough liquid to pool at the base of the glass. Both were impressively good.
    “Is there anything else you’d like to sample?” she asked.
    “No, thank you.”
    “A tour, perhaps?”
    He really shouldn’t, but the offer to show him the behind-the-scenes areas of this place had him tempted. “No, I really should be going,” he said. He employed some of the staunch discipline he was so conscientious in developing over the years. “I will take a case of the Merlot with me, if that’s all right.”
    “Of course,” she replied, ringing up the box for him.
    He paid, thanked