There was for some reason a mini co- autobiography of a woman and a man, Janine and Terence Thornton, who owned the vineyard which had made the wine.
She read the last sentence: “When we were first married we always dreamed of opening our own vineyard one day.
And now we have made that dream a reality. Here at Dry Creek Valley, our life tastes as good as a glass of Zinfandel.”
She stroked the large dog who’d been licking her
and whispered a “goodbye” into the Newfoundland’s wide, warm brow as she left Dylan and his dogs behind.
Buena Vista Vineyard
In the next visit to the Midnight Library, Mrs Elm helped Nora find the life she could have lived
that was closest to the life depicted on the label of that bottle of wine from the restaurant.
So, she gave Nora a book that sent her to America.
In this life Nora was called Nora Martìnez and she was married to a twinkle-eyed Mexican-American man in his early forties called Eduardo,
who she had met during the gap year she’d regretted never having after leaving university.
After his parents had died in a boating accident (she had learned, from a profile piece on them in The Wine Enthusiast magazine,
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