“Watch those steps,” Flynn called as she hovered in the doorway.

There was no rail, so she stepped down the three rungs carefully then stood in the dim cellar and waited for her eyes to adjust after the brightness of the tasting room. The packed-dirt floor enveloped the room in a musty earthy smell. Along the walls were barrels, each lying on its side, with letters and numbers scrawled on their ends.

“This used to be a farm storage shed. It’s built into the side of the hill with door access at the other end.” Flynn waved in the direction of two ceiling-height wooden doors filling the far wall. “When we bought the Haystack Block I remodelled it as a cellar. We planted the semillon and sauvignon blanc vines and then because the previous owner had already planted the cabernet sauvignon I talked Euan into planting the merlot so we could make a red blend. The cab sauv and the merlot are in these barrels, along with a small amount of Euan’s precious cabernet franc.”

“But you said we were going to taste it.” Keely looked around. “Surely not from a barrel?”

“That’s what this is for. It’s called a wine thief.” He held up a curved stainless-steel tube-like instrument then took the stopper out of one of the barrels and inserted the thief. There were already red stains around the hole. “You draw up a little, hold your thumb over the end and then let it run into the glass.” He demonstrated then passed her the tube and a glass. Keely watched fascinated as the wine ran from the tube into her glass. Suddenly the glass was almost full.

“Stop now,” Flynn said.

“How?” Keely wailed as the red liquid flowed over the glass, ran down her arm and dripped onto her pale pink shirt.

Flynn took the thief from her hand and the wine stopped. There was silence for a moment as they both stared at Keely’s trembling glass then the red stain that had splattered down her shirt and jeans.

“How about I tip some of that off?” Flynn took her glass and poured some of the contents onto the dirt floor. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Clumsy Keely strikes again,” she said.

“I should have done it. You’re such a quick learner I thought you had the hang of it.”

“Lucky you’ve got a dirt floor.”

“Red stains are one of the hazards of winemaking.” His face broke into a grin. “You might need to soak those clothes.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll be fine.” She flicked her hand dismissively over the damage.

“Are you still game to try it?” Flynn offered her the glass, divested of half its contents.

Keely took it and tried to remember the tasting steps he’d taught her with the white wine. She was extra careful with her swirling and sniffing then she took a sip.