act20mini

We are not the only ones waiting to get a slice of the pie. We simply need to be ready, and wait for the perfect wave to carry us aloft...

Ohoho, look who it is! Our shining star of the market finally arrives.

Sales tells me you got quite a few local retailers to sign our shelf display agreement, so I thought we should celebrate!

Thanks. It was just like you said, not much resistance when we were talking.

I meant to have this celebratory dinner yesterday, but my secretary told me you were busy with something?

I made friends with a local girl these past few days. She invited me to her home for dinner. Sorry, I know you don't splurge often...

Why apologize? This is great. We're foreigners in Nuova Volsinii. Only by understanding the Siracusans can we empty their pockets.

It seems my lovely niece has some tricks up her sleeve. You always know exactly why you do things. That's what I like the most about you.

Come, na zdrowie!

I think you've misunderstood something, Wujek Czarek. I didn't go to the kid's place to fish for some information. It was just to sing her 'Happy Birthday'.

Oh, is that so?

The glass filled with first-rate red wine freezes in midair, while the young lady on the other side of the table gives him a smile.

Her family's as ordinary as can be. They even brought all their furniture in from the countryside. A family that's the complete opposite to our 'Nuova Volsinii, Vita Nuova'.

I did manage to get one piece of good news there, though. Look.

Tosia pulls out a soft drink in a glass bottle, resting it on the pure white satin tablecloth. Czarek cannot help but laugh.

You're here to eat dinner, you know. Why bring your own drink?

This is the Chinotto I asked about last week. Her family says there are still grocers in the city who sell it.

I'm not sure if you remember, but my tata often went to Siracusa for work. Every time he came back, he'd bring some snacks and toys for me.

My favorite was this drink, and I'd always beg him to bring more back next time. Haha, it would've been way too heavy, now that I think about it.

Well, you know what happened next. He lost his job, so I didn't get to drink Chinotto anymore, naturally.

Tosia pries off the cap, the soft drink in the brown glass bottle letting out a cheerful hiss.

I've always wanted to try it again. I'm starting to think that if these 'old-fashioned things' really did disappear, it would be a real shame.

Na zdrowie, Wujek Czarek.

Tosia lifts up the bottle, knocking it against the wine glass.

Honestly, that zero-proof sparkling water from last week? Not my cup of tea. No offense.

Lupina, here is the bill of lading for this order of your winery's grapes by Saluzzo Vino.

You can look over the details.

Let me see—

Everything seems to be in order. You're always on top of things.

I'm flattered.

Lupina... there is something which I'm not sure I should ask, in my position.

Why the formality?

Go ahead, Zio Elio. We've known each other for so long.

Ever since Kazimierzian wine entered the market—

You've been running a surplus of grapes at your winery, which has been good for us...

Your prices are reasonable, and it helps us clear inventory. It's a deal that benefits both sides.

Yes... but the amount that you're offering in this batch...

Is it too much for you?

No, no, we use all the grapes we can get. But are you leaving any for your own wine production?

You can tell?

Lupina...

Golden Prairie approached us a little while back.

They offered to buy the Verdi Winery... and they made an offer I couldn't refuse.

The winery is going under, despite our best efforts...

At least Golden Prairie's interest shows that our equipment and vineyards are worth something.

Thank you for everything, Zio Elio. Saluzzo Vino has always been a good partner to the Verdi Winery.

But... what about the other guys? Davide? What about Niccolo? Did he agree?

...I'll convince them.

No, Lupina! How could we sell our Verdi Winery to the Kazimierzians?

Calm down, Niccolo. Let's sit down and talk about this. There's wine, and there's food.

What's that...?

Our signature wine, Sangiovese. You know it well, don't you?

Yes... I remember this label. Old Verdi, your nonno, painted it himself.

I was raising the grapes when he first developed this wine!

Trimmed them vine by vine myself. The clippers were heavy and unwieldy, especially in winter, when you're out all day in the cold.

But it was worth it. These vines are older than all of us put together.

In Kazimierz, they trim their vines with machines, so they can go through a whole vineyard in a single day.

It's not the same. Those <i>stupido</i> machines rip the vines apart. It may save time in the short term, but the grapes don't have long to live once they're done with them.

They don't know how to trim along the grain of the vine, ensuring that the fruits get proper sunlight and develop the right flavor...

You kids don't know the old Siracusan craft, and no one wants to learn anymore.

The Siracusan wine is unique because every vine is as old as the famiglie.

Caring for a grapevine is like caring for family. At least, it was for your nonno.

Niccolo...

Think about it, Lupa. Every grape in Verdi Winery is picked from a vine older than your nonno.

Workers like us have spent our whole lives picking grapes, carrying barrels, making wine.

My son inherited my craft. Even my granddaughter is selling wine for the winery.

Where will we go, if the winery is sold?

I'll make sure everyone is taken care of. Your skills won't go to waste.

I—would the family we've built here still exist, after the winery is sold and all the workers have gone their separate ways?

To me, it's better to die with dignity now, than to continue to try to scrape by in Nuova Volsinii. Give it a decent ending, while this land still has value.

Severance will be paid according to our contract terms.

It's not the severance I'm worried about!

You were never all that interested in running the winery, but don't you feel anything for this place old Verdi kept running all those years?

Nonno wouldn't want his winery to go bankrupt. It's not such a bad thing to find a new home for it. This is Nuova Volsinii, Niccolo, and it's time we accepted the new order.

The old worker stays silent for a while.

Finally, he takes out an invitation from his pocket and puts it on the table.

What's that...?

My granddaughter Betti turns ten next week. We'll do this by the old rules of Siracusa.

She's ten already? I'll have to—

I'm leaving.

At a small, unremarkable home in a quiet alley.

It is already late when Lupina arrives.

A warm light greets her as she opens the door.

I knew I'd find you here.

This is my private bar. You'll always find me here when I'm free.

Here, your usual. One <i>Tramonto</i> with extra orange juice, less syrup, and six cubes of ice.

I thought you'd be busier.

The Kazimierzians' Red Wine Championship is in just a few days. Golden Prairie sent out an invitation to all the local wineries.

We're not really in a position to participate... but I suppose you'll be there?

It's a marketing opportunity, no matter who's organizing it.

Yes, it is an opportunity.

But I've made the necessary arrangements. I don't need to be there personally, for the rest.

You prefer to hide here and mix drinks at your leisure?

Just a little hobby of mine. You have your hobbies too, don't you?

Would you care to check the drum set over there for me, my dear vintner?

She sits down in the drummer's chair and starts banging out a lively rhythm.

Her foot stomps steadily on the cymbal pedal, while the movements of the drumsticks in her hands are clean and confident.

'Se muoio in guerra, seppellitemi con un fiorino, versa le lacrime di mamma, sulla mia tomba come vino...'

A song that every Siracusan child knows. You've brought it to Nuova Volsinii.

An arrangement. The original is too melancholic for this occasion.