Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: PICNIC (07/14/22)
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TITLE: Beginnings | Previous Challenge Entry
By Stephen Kimball
07/21/22 -
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I had just finished college with a degree in telecommunications — a field I had little hope of landing a job in. So, with graduation upon me, necessity drew me to a sales job in the deep south.
Amanda was there for a summer job via a small college in Birmingham. She was a free spirit, who claimed she didn’t fit into the mold of her peers on campus. Her priorities seemed to be to survive and play her guitar and have fun. I’m not really like that myself, but I liked what I saw in Amanda. She was sweet and sexy and talented.
The job was…unconventional. We were cookware salespeople. Georgia, the Carolina’s, Mississippi, Alabama…we put a lot of miles on my Explorer during those months.
I did the calling, she stayed in the motel and worked to perfect her musical talent, which she was sure would pay off one day…someday. The job itself was easy, but the constant travel and the unreliable commissions, most of which was spent on lodging, left us on a peanut butter and pretzel diet. But honestly, I didn’t care whether she did any work or not, I was enthralled. We were together, we were happy, and that was enough.
We were working our way west, in the middle of nowhere Mississippi, when we saw a sign that pointed down a road that read, “Free wine tasting”.
We looked at one another and, reading my mind, she said “What have we got to lose?”
It was late afternoon and we both needed a break. Shaded by a canopy of dense Maples on either side of the road, the drive leading to the winery seemed to us the perfect picture of the “Old South.” My vision of a grand Southern plantation payoff was dashed when we arrived at a quaint Tudor-style building with French architecture most likely inspired by nearby New Orleans. I imagined it had once been someone famous’ luxury manor, way back when.
“Welcome to Barone’s! Just in time for beautiful sunset…eh?” The hostess enthusiastically said as we entered.
Maybe five feet tall, her jet-black hair overflowing her bright multi-colored scarf and clunky oversized earrings. She spoke with a thick accent that screamed gypsy to me.
“I am Ava Barone…and you are?”
“My name is John, this is Amanda.”
“Have you come here before?”
“First timers…headed up to Jackson for a couple of weeks.”
“Well, you are close,” she said. “You will not find a finer place…you stay here.”
I hesitated, not sure if that was a request or a demand.
This woman was eccentric, no doubt, and forward. She looked me straight on and held my gaze just long enough to make me feel uncomfortable. At that moment, I felt as if we might be mice in a lab experiment and we were being studied before being dropped into the maze.
“Tell you what…you go…enjoy some wine, eh?” She pointed us to the back of the building.
“Bruno is waiting. We’ll talk after. I have a lovely room for you.”
Hotel California in Mississippi, I thought.
Bruno greeted us on the open-air porch that overlooked the vineyard. Tall, thin, and much older, his deep southern accent was somewhat of a relief to me. He wore a black jacketless tux, complete with cummerbund and bow tie. His dress juxtaposed his casual manner.
The place was empty, except for us. He handed us a neatly folded, red and white checkered spread, and prompted us to choose a spot anywhere on the surrounding grounds.
“I’ll be with you shortly”, he said.
We set up camp on the grassy knoll, kicked off our shoes, and settled in to watch the sunset.
We laughed together about Ava Barone and decided she was really very charming…in her own way.
The unexpected beauty of this place had eased my mind.
Soon, we were sampling wine and nibbling on cheese. Bruno brought menus and we couldn’t help but splurge and enjoy a picnic under this spectacular canvas before us.
It really was perfect.
Amanda was perfect.
Life was perfect.
As tempting as it was, we passed on the half-price cottage with a complimentary bottle of wine. But after 30-plus years of marriage, Amanda and I will never forget our private soirée that day…at a little Mississippi winery…way back when it all began.
*****
“Every good and perfect gift is from above…” James 1:17 (NIV)
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