ITALY, MORNING 1950

Miss Rose was chic but completely insane.

A real Parisian, or is she from the country ? from England? She changed it every week.

One day she was a mysterious princess who had fled her responsibility in an aristocratic family, on another, she was this famous poker player who won a million-dollar and decided to cut her career short to get a little privacy in Italy.

This morning, as usual, Goerge was on his way to pick her up for creative therapy.

Goerge, was her good friend, always dressed as a butler, maybe he was her butler who knows.

After parking his pink flamboyant Lamborghini in the terrasse of the magnificent villa that Rose likes to call “My fucking chateau”, Goerge stepped in the doorway in front of the lilas hanging from the beautiful brick wall. He knocked. After his knock’s echoed without receiving any answers, he heard a yawn.

“Miss Rose, is that you?”

He stepped back and saw that a mattress was beautifully disposed of on the grand balcony of miss rose’s room. She was covered in only white clean blankets. There were also two empty bottles of champagne and a chandelier candle.

You see, described as it is, it can seem like Miss Rose wasn’t that chic. But she had this incredible talent of making everything seem effortlessly beautiful and pure.

“Goerge, dear, you are late. What time is it? Oh my, I must hurry. I promised I’d pick up the cat.”

“Miss rose you don’t have a cat.”

“Well, I do now. What a night George, I talked on the telephone all night with this man. It was something. Don’t remember much of it, I do remember he has a cat he wants taken care of. And so now I have a cat. Let’s do something Hepburn-y and call him Cat.”

“Today is creative therapy”

“Well staring at flowers and distasteful art to not get any writing done can wait. Let’s go, we are late.”

An old-fashioned looking pink telephone is ringing from the balcony.

“The sun is up, the pink telephone can wait”

Goerge, being used to not ever expecting anything when it came to Rose, decided to wait in his Lamborghini, unimpressed.

A few seconds following, the flawless creature emerged from the door, she wore a dark blue velvet ensemble, her Hermes scarf, placed on her hair like a Hollywood celebrity, matched her red gloves and she walked with all the possible grace one could witness.

“God, it feels good to be a woman today.”

“You look great, as usual, Miss rose.” Goerge started the engines and off they were, looking for a mysterious cat.

In a beautiful charming mansion in Italy, Pietro was living with his three daughters. They were known for producing the best wines in all Verona. A touch of blackberries and a little fresh earth made this drink strong but also very soft in some way.

When Pietro’s father died he decided to take on the family tradition of the vigneron and move to Italy with his daughters. Maria, Katherine, and Emma. They were all very different, Maria the oldest wanted to fulfill her destiny and become a mother, she met Julio when she was only a kid, they are inseparable ever since, She plays the piano and does not like when Emma sings. Emma, the youngest one, was very much full of life, as we may say. She had the impressive talent of getting into trouble, she loved red wine, white wine, pink wine... When Pietro noticed her passion for wine he was proudly thinking she would be the one to take on the wine business. He then realized that her true passion lies in drinking. Katherine enjoyed Emma’s jokes. They called her Kath. She was the quiet one mostly, she had a close relationship with her father and she spent her afternoons reading. Her dream was to become a writer. Unfortunately, the only novel she ever wrote was about wine. She once realized that she had nothing to write about because the only big things she’s ever experienced are the day that her father taught her how to squish the raisins to make the wine, the noisy day when Emma decided to take on trumpet lessons, and the day when Maria announced that she was pregnant.

Katherine was reading in the living room while her sister was playing Claire de Lune on the piano. Pietro called her in from his office.

Pietro’s office was the most serious room in the house, it was completely squared and all furniture were symmetrically placed in the sort that his large wood desk was at the center.

Pietro was intensely writing with a fountain pen when Kath, anxious, entered the sacred space. She sat down in the chair placed in front of the desk and observed those creepy paintings all around the walls. There was one depicting her grandmother, it was the worst one, she always had nightmares of this one. She wore so many pearls on this painting, wore so much lipstick, like a man trying to pass as a woman and doing an awful job.

“Kat, focus now, please. I finally found a mentor. At the gala I went two nights ago, I met this lady. She is peculiar I have to admit, but she seems to like me. Anyways, she is a great writer and she has talent. It’s time you get out there. You will live with her and learn to write.”

Katherine, holding her breath out of surprise, expected everything but this. Her father always dreamed of two things for his daughters; taking on the wine business or finding a good husband that would take on the wine business.

“You read my story”

“Yes. There is something to be done here, I admit it is not the path I wished you would follow but”

He was cut short by the noise of car breaks from the garden.

They all rushed to the garden when Miss Rose stepped up. They all looked at her amazed by her elegance.

“My dear Pietro, this garden is magnifique. I have to taste that wine now. What time is it, George”

“Ten thirty miss ... of the morning” Goerge replied with a judgy tone.

“Well, brunch time it is. We’ll only replace the mimosas with a beautiful white wine.”

“You look fantastic Rose, I'm glad you came in so early, Maria please get a table ready for us.”

“Well, where is this cat of yours you told me about on the telephone”

Katherine came out from hiding most of her body behind her sister: “That’s me, miss, nice to meet you. I’m kat”