by Janet Cipolli

Created on: October 24, 2010

“I don’t believe in ghosts.”

"It doesn’t matter what you believe or don’t believe,” countered Wilhelmina, “what matters is three days ago I inventoried 250 bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and now there’s only 226.”

Just seconds away from Halloween, Wilhelmina and her sister Ruth tiptoed through the stone corridor of The Manorville Winery, each of them holding a flashlight. Wilhelmina, the younger of the two, led the midnight convoy with her sister following way too close behind.

“Will you back off?”

“I’m sorry,” stepping on the heel of Willy’s shoe for the twelfth time. “I can’t see with you in the way.”

The pair traveled along the winding corridor until they reached the massive oak doors of the underground wine cellar.

“I hope you brought the key.”

Willy turned to Ruth with the brass key in her hand. It had been at the very top of her to-do-list that day.

Henri and Louis Gasteau were brothers and proprietors of The Manorville Winery, a family-owned business since the early 1950’s. Their father had moved the Gasteau family from Bordeaux in southwest France to California after World War II. Once his family was settled, he purchased 500 acres of land and opened the vineyard, which steadfastly grew to be one of Napa Valley’s finest winemaking establishments.

From the first day that the brothers took over operation of the business, they disagreed about everything—from grape variety to product cost. Unlike Louis, who was a penny-pincher, Henri enjoyed the good life—sparing no expense when it came to cars, women and promoting his wine. He would organize and host extravagant wine-tasting parties on the weekends, offering caviar and truffle-laced delicacies prepared by chefs he had flown in from Provence.

Louis Gasteau, on the other hand, drove a pickup truck to work each day and carried his lunch in a brown bag. Always looking to cut operating costs, he would argue constantly with Henri about money.

“We need to charge people to taste our wine—$75 for brunch and the wine sampling,” Louis would adamantly argue.

Henri would throw up his hands, “You are a fool! People want to come and taste life! Not just food and wine. They want to be pampered, they want to be courted—just like a lover—and then they will buy whatever you put in front of them.”

“You’re an idiot! By the time we

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• Next Page >>