A Taste of Italian Sunshine

A TASTE OF ITALIAN SUNSHINE LEONIE MACK To my reading and writing friends in Anita Faulkner’s Chick Lit and Prosecco group – this one’s for you! CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Prosecco and Piave Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Da Lino Prosecco Tranquillo DOCG: Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Quattro Brezze Prosecco Rosé Millesimato DOCG: Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Da Lino Prosecco Conegliano-Valdobbiadene DOCG Brut: Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Elisir di Cartizze Prosecco Valdobbiadene Superiore DOCG Sui Lieviti Brut Nature: Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Elisir di Cartizze Valdobbiadene Superiore di Cartizze DOCG Brut: Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Casa Maria Rosa Valdobbiadene Superiore DOCG Dry: Chapter 41 Acknowledgments More from Leonie Mack About the Author About Boldwood Books 1 Jenn hopped down from the bus with a sigh of relief, murmuring, ‘Grazie,’ as the driver plonked her suitcase down after her. She was sticky with sweat and exhausted from her convoluted journey from London, but she’d arrived at last – if you could call it arriving, when she appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. The air smelled faintly of mould and wood smoke with an unfortunate hint of cow. The bus had just passed through a hamlet called Combai, with stone houses and little shops. The leafy hills and terracotta roofs could have come straight out of a travel brochure, but Jenn knew the reality was never so idyllic. The town had been tiny, with no supermarket, and the shops weren’t even open in the afternoon. The Italian countryside didn’t look so romantic after the hours she’d spent waiting for buses that day. Even more inconvenient was the location of Jenn’s accommodation, near this godforsaken bus stop. Stood at the side of a road with no footpath, clutching her enormous suitcase as cars zoomed by so fast she was worried about being pulled into their slipstream, she’d take the stop-start traffic on Oxford Street any day. I can’t do this… She wanted to be driving one of the speeding cars, rather than sitting on buses with whining air conditioning and too many curious fellow passengers. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Her phone rang and she connected the call in a hurry when she saw her boss’s name flash up – Filippo Baretti, MW, Brampton Hotel Group. When she’d started working for him five years before, she’d been impressed by the ‘Master of Wine’ distinction, and now she had her own: Jenn Park, MW. Except she didn’t feel very masterful at that moment. ‘Filippo, hi!’ ‘Everything all right, Jenn? I expected to hear from you by now.’ His voice was rich and deep, with a hint of a swoon-worthy Italian accent. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she lied. ‘I, uh, had a hold-up at the hire car company, but I’m almost at the agriturismo.’ When her boss had suggested she stay at an ‘agriturismo’, an Italian farmhouse bed and breakfast, it had sounded fashionable, but she suspected her head had been turned by the charming Italian. She should have realised anything with a hint of agriculture in the name was going to be outside her comfort zone. The ‘turismo’ part made her think of Gran Turismo and reminded her of the unfortunate situation with her driver’s licence. ‘You booked somewhere in the vineyards like I suggested? An agriturismo might be a bit simple for your tastes, but good for your first buying trip on your own. Make sure you take photos. I’m planning to organise an event when the new wine list is ready. “Prosecco with Miss Park”. What do you think?’ He chuckled. I think it’s a disaster. He continued without waiting for her to respond. ‘Did you ever expect you’d be our resident prosecco expert? After what you said to Cooper?’ He laughed again and, if Jenn hadn’t already been so hot in the face, she would have blushed. She was distracted by a rumble behind her and stepped up onto the grassy shoulder, yanking her poor suitcase after her as she picked her way along the uneven ground. ‘Cooper didn’t have a very good selection,’ she defended herself weakly. ‘I’m sure I’ll find some prosecco that I actually like.’ Except she knew she wouldn’t, and it was only partly to do with the wine. ‘Ha! You’re a tough nut, Jenn. My best pupil – you and your nose. Call me back tomorrow after your appointment with the Elisir di Cartizze winery. I’ve heard good things about it, but I’m deferring to your opinion on this. And don’t let them put you off. Solidarity between the wineries up there can be annoying when you only want the best. Don’t forget you hold the power. Try to make friends, get invited to dinner. You know what I say?’ ‘Never shake hands in farewell if you’re still sober,’ she mumbled. God, if only Filippo knew what would happen if she actually took his advice. And making friends might be easy for him, but not for Jenn. ‘I’ll keep you updated. I’ll be back when I’ve finally found a decent prosecco. Hopefully it won’t take too long.’ ‘Take your time. We’ll pencil in the tasting evening for October, so you’ve got weeks, if you need them.’ Weeks, in this place with fields and tractors instead of convenient shops and reliable public transport. She glanced behind her in annoyance to find that the tractor she’d heard a moment ago appeared to be trailing her. ‘Erm, I have to go Filippo. I’m… driving and there’s a… tractor.’ After all these lies, she could almost see her grandmother shaking her fist at Jenn from beyond the grave. ‘Country drivers!’ her boss grumbled. ‘Ciao, bella! Look after that magic nose!’ Jenn scrunched up said nose as