The harvest was completed leaving in its wake the aroma of crushed zinfandel grapes. Out the window the vines wers shorn of ripe grapes. Her son had come up for the harvest and was walking up the hill on his way to her winery office. On Susanna’s desk was an unopened envelope.
The thin envelope was airmail blue. The return address name, Ted Treharne, had not been seen on her desk since June 1944. She opened the envelope. The letter began:
“Dear Susanna,
In the hills of California, I imagine your grapes are also in the midst of or just finished harvest. Here in Burgandy, where the grape harvest is also in progress, they call me Francois, but my birth name is Ted Treharne.
"It was not until about 20 years ago that much of my memory returned . It was lost in 1945 when in the deep December snow my Harley crashed down the hill to a river bank. I was on a mission for General Patton’s Army, at that time on its way to enemy surrounded Bastogne."