Love on the vine
Carol wasn’t looking for love—but then she met Paul . . .
Carol drove up the winding road to the winery, enjoying the summer breeze through her open window. When parking her car, she noticed a tour group being led through the vineyard. “This would be a nice place for a date,” she thought, then pushed the idea away. She wasn’t seeing anybody, and anyway, she was here on business. She headed to the winery’s main building. Waiting for her on the steps was an attractive, sandyhaired man. “Paul Nesbit?” Carol asked. “You got it.” The man shook her hand. “And you must be Carol Smalls from The Bugle.”
She nodded.
There was something special about this man
“We get a lot of journalists up here, but they’re usually food critics looking to try the wine,” Paul said. “People aren’t usually as curious about the history of this place.”
“When I heard about it from Donna, I thought it would make a great feature for our July Fourth edition.”
“Oh, you know Aunt Donna?” Paul asked.
“Yeah, she and my mom are friends,” Carol said. “She’s always bragging about how her nephew runs a winery.”
Paul laughed. “I should hire her to do PR.”
They went to Paul’s office, which overlooked the vineyard. As they sat down, Carol clicked on the recorder.
“How did you get into winemaking?”
“It’s a family business,” Paul said. “One that goes back all the way to the Revolutionary War. This land was bought by a young couple, Joseph and Catherine. They made it into a thriving farm. But when the Revolutionary War broke out, Joseph joined the militia and was sent to the front lines while Catha- rine stayed behind. He wrote her every week, until one day, the letters stopped. Catherine waited for her husband to return. Months went by. And then one day a man of Joseph’s height and build was on her doorstep.” “Who was he?” Carol asked. “His name was Robert Nesbit. He and Joseph had been in the same unit and were best friends. He was there when Joseph was mortally wounded and promised him he’d tell Catherine what had happened.” “Wow!” Carol said. Paul nodded. “Robert offered to stay for a season and help with the harvest. The two of them worked well together, and soon the farm was flourishing and they started growing grapes and making wine. A year after he showed up, Robert proposed, and soon he and Catherine were married. My family’s been here ever since.”
“Amazing!” Carol said, asking him a few more questions before turning off the recorder.
“Can I show you around?” Paul asked.
Carol’s heart fluttered. She needed to write up this article, but that could wait a few hours. There was something special about this man, and she’d already noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Paul showed her around the vineyard, pointing out something of interest every now and then, but for the most part, he seemed content to ask Carol about herself and how she liked writing for a small town paper.
“It’s great. I’ve always been interested in fi nding the story within the story, if that makes any sense,” she said.
He nodded. “Makes perfect sense. After all, you found the story behind this place.”
“It’s really beautiful here,” Carol said. “I can see why Robert wanted to stick around.”
When Carol drove away, she felt disappointed. Would she ever have a chance to see Paul Nesbit again?
Two days later, when the article came out, Carol was at her desk when the phone rang.
It was Paul. “Great story!”
“Thanks. I enjoyed writing it.”
“I enjoyed telling it.” He paused. “Hey, I’d like to invite you to our Independence Day party tonight. We have some amazing fi reworks, with lots of tasty food and wine.”
Carol’s heart did a little drum roll. “I would love to come.”
“Wonderful,” he said. “Can I pick you up at seven?”
Carol agreed, eager to see how this story would unfold.
— Shannon Fay
“It truly is better to give than to receive!” I had been waiting in line at the grocery store for a while when I realized that it wasn’t moving.
I went to the front of the line to find out what the hold-up was, and saw that the cashier was helping an older man in a wheelchair. He was scanning the man’s credit card, but it kept coming up “declined.” “I’m sorry, but I can’t complete this payment,” the cashier told him. I quickly asked how much the man owed, and was told $32.70. “Just add it to my bill, please!” I said. The man looked up at me, and his eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” he said. “God bless you!” I was happy to be a blessing to someone. It truly is better to give than to receive!