Ripped From the Pages

Oh, and while Guru Bob was a fun name we kids liked to use, I would never have called him that to his face. It would have been disrespectful. Funny thing, though—I’d always had the feeling he knew we called him Guru Bob and didn’t mind at all.

 

After five minutes of serious discussion, Guru Bob waved to the rest of us and walked away, heading off toward the center of town. I knew the reason he left wasn’t that he didn’t have an interest in what was going on. It was more that he’d put reliable people in charge of the job and he didn’t want them to think he was watching over their shoulders or micromanaging. He would show up later to see how things turned out, trusting that everything had gone according to plan.

 

The buzz of voices rose once again.

 

“I’m getting excited,” Robin said.

 

“So am I.”

 

She gave me a look. “You sound surprised.”

 

“I guess I was trying to be blasé about it, but this is really fun.”

 

“It is. And I already told you how psyched Austin is to get started.”

 

“My dad is, too.”

 

She laughed. “He’s been talking about building this tasting cave since before I moved back up here. At least a year ago.”

 

“I know.” I sipped my coffee. “So it’s about time we did it. It seems like every winery in the county has a tasting cave now.”

 

She smirked. “And we must keep up with the trends.”

 

I nodded, although I knew that keeping trendy wasn’t the only reason the winery had finally chosen to carve out a larger space for the tasting rooms and additional barrel storage. The plain fact was that underground storage saved money. Temperatures in our existing caves didn’t vary much from the recommended sixty-two degrees, which was ideal for making and storing wine. Dad had mentioned that they planned to build an interior waterfall to add to the natural humidity. Solar panels installed on the hillside above the caves would collect energy to be used for lighting the cave space and for pumping out excess moisture.

 

There was only one small tunnel built under the vineyards that led from one storage cave to another. More would be added, and they would be upgraded, widened, and modernized with better drainage in the floors and a thicker layer of shotcrete added to the walls for improved insulation. Shotcrete was a concretelike material applied using high-velocity hoses so that it dried quickly and covered every inch of the cave wall.

 

It was amazing how much cool information you could pick up from hanging around my father for a few hours. I’d learned that the winery committee had also approved plans to build a freshwater lake on the other side of Ridge Road that would eventually provide irrigation for the entire vineyard and winery. The plan was for Dharma to become self-sustaining and energy independent within five years.

 

A few of the men began walking toward us, away from the cave entrance where the heavy roadheader was ready to spring into action. Derek grinned as he approached, and my stomach did a little twist. There was something about a gorgeous man smiling at me that gave a boost to my day. Especially when that man was Derek Stone. The hard hat was an added treat.

 

“Having fun?” I asked.

 

“I’m having a fantastic time,” he said, his British accent sounding even sexier than usual. Maybe it was the worn jeans or the heavy work boots he was wearing. Then again, he sounded sexy in a business suit, too.

 

I handed him my coffee mug. He took a sip and handed it back to me. “Thanks, love.” Then he moved behind my chair so he wouldn’t block my view, and we all waited for the show to begin.

 

A few seconds later, the sound of a loud, powerful engine erupted, and anyone who wasn’t wearing a headset immediately fumbled to get one on. A cloud of thick dust erupted from the cave doorway and filled the air. I adjusted my goggles to watch the roadheader extend its claw arm deeper into the storage cave, where I imagined it clawing its way through the thick stone. A Dumpster-sized vessel rolled out on a track, carrying a pile of broken-down gravel that was dumped off to the side. I figured that pile would be massive by the time the job was done.

 

On the drive over, Robin had explained that the initial excavation would take several long weeks, possibly a few months. It all depended on the thickness and resistance of the stone.

 

But barely five minutes after the digging began, the earsplitting noise suddenly stopped. One of Stan’s men, the one who was spotting for the driver, came running out of the storage cave.

 

“We’ve broken through some sort of wall,” he explained loudly to my father and the other men. He didn’t sound happy about it.

 

I looked up at Derek and saw him frowning. The experts had determined that most of the ground under the hillside was solid rock and heavily compressed soil. What did he mean, We’ve broken through? Was the dirt and stone beneath the vineyards less solid than the geologists had thought?

 

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