Thursday, March 27, 2014
Tonight, Brian is only a segment reporter on Lester Holt's Nightly. He does have on a tie, however, so we shall report on it. It is the dusky plum silk cravat with charcoal diagonals. Exhausted, they lay among the rows and coughed, their eyes tearing and their chests heaving and burning. Impossibly, the fire had not come into the vineyard at all, and only the winery tasting room and retail space was a loss. They had managed to carry out only half the cases stored there, but it was a small dent in the inventory. The worst thing was that the fire had happened at all. She knew there had been ill feeling since she set up business here and let it be known that it was, for all intents and purposes, a women's winery. That the blaze had been deliberately set she had no doubt. She sat up and looked at the charred remains of her beautiful chateau-styled building and absentmindedly reached over to cup a luscious bunch of merlot grapes in her palm. They were dusted with soot, but beautiful with the promise of a deep and fragrant wine. A promise she intended to fulfill.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:38 PM