When the invitation arrived, we were honored and a little baffled. The formal card read:
Mrs. Brandini invites you for an intimate evening, to drink Reserve and remember.
Then we saw the date. Could it really be ten years later? The dinner would be on the anniversary of her husband"s abandonment all those years before. My wife and I were most intrigued to be invited. I loved the old lady of course, but I had hated Lester Brandini. Regardless, her Reserve was legendary. My wife and I would definitely attend.
In a community of winery owners and ranchers known for being, well, just plain nice, Lester had been the Rasputin of the Wine Growers Association. Meetings and Harvest Festivals had always ended in shouts (and even one fist fight), back when Lester was in our lives. Everyone secretly
