The Vintner's Daughter

Chapter 1 : Emma

The hose fell out of the carboy again while the red liquid played out across the polished, wooden floor. It has been the second time this week that I failed transferring the wine. My father, Louis, has been a vintner for at least 30 years. I'm only 18 years of age and I'm learning.
"Dang it, not again!", I said. My thoughts of becoming a famous vintner were slowly fading away as the wine escorted itself out the door. My body slumped down, my chest touching my thighs, as I try to think of what I did wrong.
"Emma! What on earth happened in here?", my father asked.
"I'm so sorry, I tried to transfer the wine again and this time it managed to escape... now I have to do it all over again."
"Emma, it's alright. Everyone makes mistakes, and even I did before I became a famous vintner like I am now. I bought my own land and had a beautiful daughter. My life is in perfect order and I wouldn't change a thing about it."
I smiled as I kissed his cheek. His monstrous hands ruffled my hair that I perfectly braided.
"What are you doing?! I worked so hard on that!"
"Oh please, your hair is everywhere on your face."
I scoffed playfully and went to start on another flavor of wine, which I was contemplating on the flavor. I hadn't the idea of what flavor to do or what two flavors went together. I grabbed a tablet and began to take notes in my room. Blueberry sounded good, but so did raspberry and strawberry. I couldn't decide!
I decided to give myself a little break after all the thinking and working I've been doing for the past week. I've cleaned the house, tended to the vineyard, picked plum colored grapes, attempted to make wine. This week has been very tiring. Hopefully I can get it done in time for the festival.
"Emma! Could you come down here please? I have an assignment for you!", my father called.
I rushed down the stairs to see what he was up to, and he gave me a list of things to buy, most likely for the guest we have coming over. I've tried to get him to tell me who it is, but no reply. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it. I walked to the market to purchase the items. Two enormous, brown bags were on top of my arms as I tried to maneuver my way around the street. Once I was able to open the door to the house, I immediately went to the table and rested.
"Ah Emma, you're back! Good, now you need to get dressed very fancy tonight, we have our guests coming over.", my father exclaimed. He has been excited about this moment. He always wanted to share a business with someone of high class.
I thought of the day: Saturday, August 17.
"Who's coming over? We barely know anyone other than the occasional townspeople.", I questioned.
"Oh! That's right I forgot to tell you! His name is Kendrick."