“Vain doctor? A medical narcissist? Vein doctor? What do they call those people—phlebotomists?” Quinn started guessing as we parked next to the Mini and got out of the Jeep.

“Phlebotomists are the people who draw your blood for lab tests,” I said. “Phlebologists are vein doctors. Personally, I think it stands for V-A Wine Doc. Virginia wine doctor. As in Dr. Josephine Wilde. I bet that’s her car.”

He laughed. “Good call. I bet you’re right.”

The Visitor Center was a long, low gray-blue building with a row of windows and reminded me of a large shed. It sat on the edge of the parking lot and looked as if it were meant to blend unobtrusively with the scenery. A sign out front announced we had arrived at America’s birthplace.

I recognized Josephine Wilde the moment we walked inside the building. For one thing, her photo appeared regularly in all the major wine industry and vineyard management journals. For another she was also frequently featured in glossy magazines like Wine Spectator, Saveur, and Food and Wine. Last but not least, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

She had been speaking with a woman behind the ticket sales counter, but she turned around and smiled when Quinn and I entered the large, airy atrium. It was deserted except for the three of us and the ticket sales person; the place seemed to echo.

“You must be Lucie and Quinn.” Josie Wilde came over and put out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Josie.”

She had the flaming red curls of a Botticelli angel, wide violet eyes, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Dressed in a bright red down jacket, a navy turtleneck sweater, jeans, and work boots, Josie Wilde looked like the person you wanted with you if you were ever lost in a forest in the middle of nowhere or stranded on a desert island. She had the calm, unflappable demeanor of someone who would know how to start a fire without matches, build a shelter using a Swiss Army knife, and find food using her wits.

Quinn and I shook hands with her as she sized us both up. Her eyes lingered on Quinn, who I hoped would be on his best behavior. He wasn’t still totally sold that we needed her. I was.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said.

“Absolutely,” Quinn said. “A pleasure.”

He wasn’t sold on her. The look in her eyes said she knew it, too.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s walk down to the fort. It’s so cold and raw today I think we’re going to have the place practically to ourselves.”

“Thanks for doing this,” I said. “We appreciate it.”