At the table next to us in the cafe, he tells a small group of regulars about his great grandparents and their hasty flight from the home country. They sold the old vineyard, their home for generations, and scattered across the globe.
Years later, the children and children's children gather in California for a reunion. One of them carries a bottle of wine, well over one hundred years old, the last taste of the family's vintage.
With much aniticaption, they gather and open the bottle.
It tastes like vinegar.
