(IVANNA)
Vincent's tan wrinkles face brightens when he sees me. "Miss! I wondered if you would join us." The vintner glances over my shoulder and dips his chin respectfully. "Sir Sakharov. You honor us with your presence."
Sergio comes forward, shakes the vintner's hand, and speaks quietly. The people standing around us all laugh, grinning at him, and I try not to look as annoyed as I feel. What, will they kiss his ring next?
A woman appears at my side. She is slightly younger than Sergio, with a long braid of dark hair tucked under a sun hat. Her brown eyes are kind, her smile patient. "Is this your first time?"
I nod. "I am a vendemmia virgin."
The woman chuckles. "That sounds like a t-shirt." Her expression turns serious. "I've wanted to meet you for a long time. I am Emilia, Vincent's daughter."
"Oh, hello! He told me all about you." Vincent often bragged about his daughter, the accountant who'd gone to university in London. "I'm Ivie."
