Chapter 11: Sloppy
June 2. Rothshire Vineyard along Lake Erie, and just a few miles east of Erie, was one of the most beautiful and elegant properties in northwestern Pennsylvania. The nine hundred acres of grape-covered arbors rolled splendidly along the gold-pink-purple horizon. Just and I arrived shortly after six in the evening. We pulled in the property’s gravel driveway, parked in front of an ivy-covered Tudor, exited his Frontier, and stretched.
To our right was a hulking red barn with three matching outbuildings. A cottage sat to the left of the house, which was also covered in what looked like Needlepoint ivy. A cobblestone walkway led to the cottage. Beyond the property, in the far northern region sat Lake Erie, which was an earthy blue layered in melodramatic waves and a pleas
