Okay, she said to herself, walking quickly up to the main building, keep it together. Huffing, she pulled herself up the hill and through the backdoor of the colonial house. She looked around. She was in a long dark hallway, with low walls in grey stone and old pictures in brass frames. At the end was an elevator. Elly pushed the button repeatedly and hummed to calm herself. Please let me make it to the bathroom, please let me make it…CURSE that stupid sandwich! The doors open and Elly launched herself inside. The elevator hummed slowly downwards. The doors opened and Elly broke out in a full run towards the bathroom. She found it quickly and there was no one inside, much to her relief.
Ten minutes later, Elly emerged, feeling much better. She walked down the corridor in front of giant silver fermentation tanks, distracted by an intense search for gum in her purse. Sighing happily, her stomach a placid lake and her mind on Isaac, she turned the corner towards the elevator. She walked past the stained glass windows, each etched with blues and greens, depicting wines pouring out of bountiful urns. They were luminous, and Elly ran her fingers over the raised iron, the windows bathing her in light. She took a deep breath in.
Here I am, she told herself, on vacation with a gorgeous man who is crazy about me. It’s amazing where life can go…I never dreamed I would be here. She sighed happily and followed the arched hallway. Elly walked for a couple of minutes before she realized that she had missed the elevator. She turned around. There were hallways on either side of her. She started to walk back the way she came. The hallway continued, but no elevator. She ran back a couple of steps. More hallway. Elly tried to quell her rising anxiety. Okay, I came down the hall, past the stained glass, turned the corner at the elevator… she traced her steps. It didn’t help that she was walking quickly, slightly panicked.
She ended up in a giant underground cellar, flanked by arching stone walls the held the foundation of the house. Red oxidized brick lined the room, which was filled with tons of wine barrels. The air was damp and musty, tinged with the sweet smell of berries, licorice and mushrooms. Dim yellow lighting hung from the corners. It was both romantic and intensely scary, and it reminded her of catacombs. Elly started hyperventilating and leaned against the barrels. Maybe if I just head to the end of the corridor, she thought, I’ll find an exit. She didn’t. She also didn’t find an exit in between the barrels, or near the doors. One long wine filled corridor led to another and another. She couldn’t find her way back to the entrance. Again and again she circled back, weaving her way in between endless barrels.
Her spirits faded as her panic took over. Her thoughts bordered on absurd. This was it. She was hopelessly lost in the basement of a winery. It had been about an hour since she had left the tour. Search parties had been called off. Isaac had found another woman to sweep off her feet. Snarky Teenager had taken over Posies and turned it into a racy underwear store. It was over. Her life would end, here, in this wine cellar of death. Condensation dripped on her face. The stone walls were closing in on her, and the room seemed to be getting darker by the minute. She was very cold. Elly slumped behind a giant barrel at the very end of the row. She grabbed on to the tap with desperation. If she was going to go out like this, she might as well be very drunk. She leaned over and positioned her mouth under the spout while at the same time her lips formed the words of familiar prayers.
Suddenly, she was looking at a brown pair of orthopedic shoes.
“And here, ladies and gentleman, is our wine cellar, which was made in 1847. We made the secret entrance during the Prohibition era….”
The tour guide stopped shortly upon seeing her. Elly quickly sat up and wiped the mascara from her eyes. Three old ladies stood gaping in front of a hidden door in the brick.
“Was she drinking straight from the spout?” one of them cried. “That can’t be sanitary!”
The kindly tour guide smiled down at her.
“Young lady, how did you get down here?”
Isaac’s gorgeous face peeked around an alarmed woman’s appliqué sweater.
“Um - Elly?” he asked nervously.
“Well, that was interesting,” Isaac joked later as he steered the car past endless fences of grapes. “How was the wine cellar? I bet all the barrels looking the same got to you?” He chuckled. “Poor Elly. Were you really that upset? Not that I blame you. I would have probably tapped in myself - their wine is so delicious. Of course, I might have waited to get a glass first….”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Elly snapped.
He ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s their fault for putting the bathroom in the dungeon. I was just glad to find you. Otherwise I would have had to take home the lady with the snowman sweater on.”
“Hmm…that was a nice sweater. I would have understood.”
Isaac looked at her, his brown bedroom eyes bearing into her. “Let’s go find our hotel.”
Elly felt her pulse quicken. The hotel. Were they sharing a room? Did that mean something? Isaac sped up the car.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled the car into the drive of the Blue Baron Inn. Pale brown and grey, the reformed Tudor had a large white deck that overlooked the river, which was shrouded in a humid mist. Isaac went to the front to check in, and Elly heaved their suitcases out of the car. Pulling them behind her, she jogged to keep up with him. Please say two rooms, she thought, please say two separate rooms…