Chapter 7
“This wine that we will enjoy today was harvested by the hand of my brother, the man whose life we honor today.” Standing on the bougainvillea-shaded patio at a long, hand-hewn table worn smooth by the kiss of salted air and years of use, Lauro eased a cork from a well-aged Piedirosso, releasing the musky scent of aged fruit into the air.
“Antonino Savoia had the finest taste of anyone I’ve ever known.” He poured the robust wine into waiting glasses of family and friends who had gathered on the patio at his family’s estate after the memorial service for Nino, which had been held at the Duomo in the village. Always appreciative of exceptional artistry, Nino had often sketched the cathedral’s old Byzantine tower.
As the wine swirled into the glasses, Lauro shared his memories of
