Jolyon stood at the doorway to the cellar where the presses were working on half of the first grape crop harvested at Rumors Mill since he came into ownership. The other half of the grapes were being destemmed and crushed by cheerful seasonal hires under the steady supervision of Hamish. As much reading as Jolyon had done on the production of wine, he had to admit that like with most things, the actuality was a much broader and more rich experience. It was, he supposed, why he remained in Rhydin. Reading about cultures was one thing, but to see them lived and interact and influence each other was beyond anything a book could provide.

So, he took close notes of the process from his vantage. The doorway to the cellar was a good five or six steps up from the working floor, and he could feel the warmth of the sun on his linen shirted back. He had dressed for the working of the vineyard that day as he had since starting the harvest that happened just upon the return from Yransea. As such, his ventures into town or the work at the warehouse had been forgone for the demands of Rumors Mill.

Sylvia had decided to visit without her children this time. She was certain Jolly had his fill of their antics when he visited for Harvest Festival. Beyond that, she had learned from one of the workers at the Yransea Warehouse that his son had been part of the grape harvest, and Sylvia was of a mind to scold the vineyard owner of not letting her know as he had promised to do so.

When she arrived at Rumors Mill, the long walk having reminded her the true distance from her home to the north of town to his home south of town. Her hips ached as did her feet, but it only served to be a lesson to get out and walking more. With this thought nagging her mind, she went to find Jolly and was directed by a young runner to where she might find him at the back of the villa.

The villa had gone a transformation as much as the fields had since his arrival. The nearby creek had been diverted under the supervision and approval of those familiar with landscape and its impact on environs closer to the house. A mill had been set to the side of the villa, and the water set it to motion. The process was used to maneuver the presses for the red wines. Jolyon had decided with Hamish's agreement, that this year they would do two varieties only and see which way the grapes tended to favor before they planted another variety of grape to compliment the first variety.

With a log book in hand, he made notations to the process and who was working for what hours to later calculate the end of days pay. He rubbed away an itch at his forehead with the heel of his hand and turned only to be surprised at the sighting of Sylvia. "Sylvia," he called with a cheer and walked to greet her. "I am surprised to see you."

"As surprised as I am to learn the harvest all completed?" Her mouth fought between frown and grin. "You were let me know when the first harvesting here was to happen, and did you not promise a party as well?"

Jolly could see she was only scolding in a friendly humor, but it did the same work as a full on scold to bring up his guilt. "I can't deny that I did, but as I looked on the business with an unpracticed eye, I reconsidered the matter entirely." With some hope to his voice, "Is there a chance of forgiveness on the horizon? Let me offer you something to drink while you consider it."

With a bright laugh, Sylvia motioned him on to the residence part of the villa. "You are forgiven, by me at least, but I will still take the drink if it is still in the offering."

"Of course," he added his own laugh in relief and walked with her to the kitchen where he poured out two glasses of lemonade. As he sipped his own beverage, he looked her over, still surprised by her arrival even for the knowledge of her reason.

Sylvia stood in silence, sipping her lemonade as she also considered what ways she might help the young man out. It was hard, she knew, starting fresh in life with no connections. From what she had seen, Jolly had taken to observing much, connecting little, and breaking away from most. Unfortunately, after standing in silence thinking over the situation, she had only come up with one rather flimsy solution. "Have you thought to perhaps doing a special label? The bottle can be different so you could get the bottles from anywhere."

He felt the stirrings of possibility at her suggestion. There were a few artisans he had met on his lunch hours at the cafe, and he recalled the Kaiser's did some glasswork, though bottling might be beneath their craftmanship. It would take some further thought, but he nodded to let he know he was considering her words.

At his nod, and since Jolly did not cast the idea away outright, she continued on. "It would also allow some time and bring in a specialization without too much further effort. Of course," she admitted in a rush of words and a sheepish sort of smile, "I don't know much on the means of making wine. I rarely even drink it."

With a chuckle and nod, "It would be my honor to remedy the lack of knowledge in the drinking, but I will admit my continuing education on the making of wine as well. I will speak with Hamish about it. It might do at that. I'd have to get a special label made as well to make it different from the run I have now. I think Leo might do me the favor at half is original price if I promise him a bottle of it."

The name gave her some surprise. "Leo?" Of the artists she knew, a Leo was not among them. The fact that she and Jolly knew some of these same artists drew her brows together in suspicion. "I do not think I know this Leo."

Finishing off his lemonade, "Leopold Nemish. Quite the bohemian. I met him in the cafe," he chuckled again. He had met many people on his solitary forays to the Hidden Paddock Cafe. "We struck up a conversation on the varieties of coffees to be found, and, as you know, I'm never one for lack of conversation on cultural similarities and differences."

"No," she smiled and nodded, "no you are not. It is always good to share those conversations with you. I learn a great deal." Her own lemonade finished, she came round to the problem again. "As to the corks, there may be some around the warehouse left over from one of our Yransea shipments. If I find them, then I will bring them by."

There were few good friends he had made here, but Sylvia had proved to be one of them. She asked little of him but to be himself and she put him at ease. He had always been the eldest, but she was as near to an older sister as he could have found. "Thank you, Sylvia. I cannot tell you how much it means."

She waved the comment off and gave him a smile. "Sometime over the next few evenings then, unless the Harvest Festival claim either of us."

"Oh yes!" he had nearly forgotten. "I don't know if I will make it at all."

"That," Sylvia called over her shoulder as she left, "I will make certain does not happen."