Phillipe, a darkly handsome Latino who apparently had no last name, met Cassidy at the San Francisco airport in a wine-red Miata with the top down. In moments, they were leaving the city behind and zipping up toward the Sonoma Valley. She had tucked Mondavi’s two books as well as the coffee table book about Mondavi by Katz into her carry-on and devoured them on the way down. She’d also brought along Fassbender’s definitive book on Cabernet Sauvignons, but her German was quite rusty and it was heavy going.
Mondavi might not be the most expensive in the valley—too many little boutique vineyards existed that made a profession of being outrageously priced—but they were far and away the biggest high-quality vintner. Wines of high quality that sold at affordable prices.
She’d called to find ou
