Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics by Gayle Wigglesworth

before the retreat was over to get the address of their inn. She thought Claire might like it to pass on to some of her customers.
    “All right, we’re all here. Hang on, we’re away,” Chef Martin called out as the bus door closed with a whoosh and the bus headed out.
    The chatter in the bus was deafening. After only two days together friendships had been formed and alliances made.
    The first winery was perfect and Millie assumed that’s why they started with it. Una Cantina Delle Sette Cantine, Millie let it roll off her tongue, repeating it after Chef Martin. It sounded as lovely as it was. The hills were covered with rows of green vines while the stone buildings of the winery nestled in a little valley. The Seven Cellars Winery seemed an appropriate name as they moved through cellar after cellar cut deep into the stone hills.
    “Wow, look at this.” They looked around the huge manmade cavern filled with stainless steel vats and rows and rows of racked bottles.
    “Smell it. I think I could get high just from breathing the fumes.”
    “Not me, I’m waiting for the real thing,” George retorted, “and I’m starting to feel thirsty.”
    Their guide heard George’s comment and assured them. “Soon, I promise you. Only two more cellars to visit and then we come to the VIP tasting room.” He led them into the next cellar, this one containing row after row of beautifully carved, huge white oak aging casks.
    “Here are the casks that give our wine that oaky taste we’re known for. These barrels were made in the 17th century and have survived the ravages of time, war and natural disasters. They are very valuable to us as white oak is extremely hard to obtain now. And then, of course, the carvers were artists. It would be impossible to duplicate this quality.” He was willing to pause long enough for them to examine the barrels closely. The carvings done in deep relief were magnificent, every bit as detailed and beautiful as ones Ruth and Millie had admired in the museums in Florence.
    But finally they entered the VIP tasting room, an alcove off the last cellar. This room was dark and filled with racked bottles. In the middle of the room was a bar, bathed in light, where the sommelier was waiting to serve them.
    “You understand that all other tours end up in the tasting room where we started. There they are given a taste of a select number of wines and can purchase bottles of wine if they wish. However, for this group, we have a special tasting.”
    Their guide gestured toward the sommelier wearing his little tasting cup on a chain around his neck. “Henri is here to explain the wines for you. Taste as many as you wish. However, Chef Martin has asked me to remind you there are two more wineries to visit before lunch.”
    They laughed. It was a gracious way of telling them they couldn’t stay forever. They surged toward the small bar where Henri presided, pouring generous amounts in the glasses before him. And while they were being passed around, he described the wine.
    “This is a classic red Tuscan wine. It's made from Sangiovese and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes from our own vineyards. Notice the color.”
    He held his glass up and swirled it. They all followed suit.
    “Smell it,” he ordered dipping his nose in the glass and inhaling. “Smell the notes of cherries, smoke and vanilla.” He looked around as one by one they nodded; either identifying the aromas or saying they did rather than admitting their ignorance.
    "Taste it.” He took a sip and rolled it around in his mouth, smiling with pleasure when he swallowed it. “Aged twenty-four months in the white oak barrels to get that oaky taste and the body is velvety and smooth; the finish is long and lovely.” He took another sip and they followed suit.
    “Now tell me, Chef Martin, wouldn’t you love to serve this with one of your famous pork dishes?”
    Chef Martin’s expression conveyed no doubt as to his enjoyment of the wine.
    Henri generously