Chapter 17

With October’s arrival came the most important part of the year for River’s Bend: harvest time. Adam had watched the grapes ripen into juicy, purple berries these two months. With the leaves changing to umber and scarlet, the grapes were ready to be picked.

He walked among the rows of the vines, watching workers pluck the grapes by hand and tossing them into baskets and bins. Adam had a feeling they’d finish within a week, when normally it took twice as long, if not three times. He knew the harvest would be meager this year, with the excessive rain that had destroyed so many fragile buds in the spring. Bending down, he rifled through a basket, and he sighed when he saw how many of the grapes were unsuitable for wine-making.

Adam already knew the projections, already knew how many grapes it took to make a bottle of wine, already knew that he’d be lucky to make it another year. He knew all of that, but he kept hoping against hope that they’d pull through.

They had to. Because now the