“You always have to get the last word in,” Aunt Pearl muttered.
I pressed a finger to my lips and spoke in a low voice. “Antonio’s not himself, Aunt Pearl. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s either distracted, depressed, or…I don’t know. Something’s wrong and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Aunt Pearl laughed. “Something’s wrong? You’re a hoot. Took you a while to figure out that Antonio’s totally lost his mind.”
We waited for Antonio to get organized for the better part of an hour but his attention was focused elsewhere. He would pour a wine sample from one of the large stainless-steel vats only to set his glass down without tasting it. His lips formed words with no sound. He ran from the vats to the bottling area, then did an about-turn as if he had forgotten another task. He ran downstairs to the cellar. A minute later he reemerged empty-handed, only to repeat the process all again.
I wanted to help him, but he wasn’t making it easy. He had worked so hard to keep the Lombard Wines family business going these last few years, yet he always had the worst luck. He seemed completely overwhelmed. He was stuck in a loop.
We were stuck too. I’m a witch, not a psychologist. I wanted to help but was at a loss on what to do.
Aunt Pearl’s high-pitched voice pierced the silence. “Antonio—stop the insanity! What the heck is wrong with you? Pull yourself together!”
Antonio’s hands flew to his head. He covered his ears with his hands as if to drown out Aunt Pearl’s voice. He shook his head slowly back and forth, mouthing ‘no’ to some invisible foe. “I’m trying to think but…it’s all so overwhelming.”
Aunt Pearl marched across the floor to Antonio before I had a chance to stop her.
She faced him and clamped a boney hand onto each of his forearms. She shook him and yelled into his face. “Hey! Snap out of it!”
I rushed over to stop whatever was about to happen. “I don’t think—”
“Stay out of this, Cendrine,” Aunt Pearl growled. “I know what I’m doing.”
Aunt Pearl’s temper was about to get the better of her, and Antonio already had a lot going wrong. We had only one goal, and that was to get his wine bottled and ready for the festival.
Last-minute wine bottling wasn’t ideal, but it was our only option. Without bottles, corks, or labels, it was pretty much impossible to get everything together, even for a witch. In theory, I could conjure up these things, but witchcraft for profit was strictly forbidden, even if it was to line another person’s pockets.
Lombard Wines had operated in Westwick Corners for generations. All that was at risk because Antonio Lombard was unraveling. I feared that his winery was about to go belly up.
I was still unclear about the exact problems Antonio faced. This year’s grape harvest had been excellent, and Antonio was an accomplished winemaker, so there should have been lots of activity to crush the grapes and ferment and clarify the juice in the large vats. But in order to do that, the previous year’s wine had to be removed from the vats and bottled. That task hadn’t even started yet, and it was that wine we needed for the wine festival.
The Lombard wine wouldn’t bottle itself. Antonio’s future depended on a good showing at the annual Westwick Corners Wine Festival. His future also depended on Aunt Pearl releasing her grip from his forearms, which had turned white due to lack of blood supply.
Antonio wore a pained expression, but he didn’t flinch. He knew that any show of weakness would only make Aunt Pearl dig in deeper. He was twice the size of my ninety-pound aunt, yet like the rest of us, was deathly afraid of her.
“Aunt Pearl! You’re hurting Antonio!” I approached them and slowly pried Aunt Pearl’s hands from his arms. I probably should have kicked her out of my car after she attempted to strangle me. Aside from almost giving me a heart attack, she was slowing things down. No doubt she had an ulterior motive for being here.
I kept my voice calm. “We’ll get this done together. But first things first. Where do you keep the bottles?”
Antonio sighed and lowered himself into a chair. He pointed to a bunch of boxes behind the bottling table where Aunt Pearl and I had been standing. “Over there.”
Aunt Pearl pulled out the boxes and checked them one by one. “No bottles here, Antonio. These boxes are all empty.”
Antonio frowned. “That’s strange. All my bottles seem to have mysteriously disappeared.”
“You begged us to help, but you never even bothered to check your supplies?” Aunt Pearl threw her hands in the air. “They didn’t disappear by themselves. Admit it, Tony. You forgot to order them.”
Antonio hated to be called Tony. Aunt Pearl was purposely getting him all riled up.
“I think I have more bottles down in the cellar,” he said.
“Fine, I’ll go check.” Aunt Pearl walked toward the stairs that led down to the wine cellar.”
Antonio got up from his seat. “I’ll do it. You can’t get in. The cellar has a biometric lock. The only way to unlock the cellar is with my fingerprint.”
“Oooh…fancy,” Aunt Pearl said mockingly. “Did you spend your money on that instead of bottles?”
Antonio ignored her and walked to the rear of the building, where a wrought iron spiral staircase led downstairs to the wine cellar.
“I’ve got to see this.” I followed behind Aunt Pearl as we headed down the steps to a small landing that faced the heavy steel cellar door. A large oak barrel had been placed by the door, leaving only enough room for Antonio. Aunt Pearl and I waited on the bottom steps while Antonio unlocked the door.
Above the door handle was a fancy-looking lock with a number pad and a glass square. It looked fairly new, and I didn’t remember seeing it before. It had been a year since I had last
