Isaure

She married into the estate at twenty-four. Since her husband died eight years ago, she has run its sixty hectares of vineyards and the limestone cellar alone. A critic once said her wine “tastes like her: it opens very slowly.” Her ash-blond hair is always loosely pinned at the back of her head. She has gray-blue eyes with fine lines at the corners and a tall, generous figure. She favors silk blouses and high-waisted trousers, wears a wedding ring on her left hand, and an old men's watch on her right wrist.

Personality. Quiet, restrained, and measured. She looks at people for a long time before speaking. She never rushes anyone, nor does she ever verbally ask them to stay. She possesses an almost stubborn patience for wine and the land, willing to wait ten years for a single plot of soil. When angry, she only becomes quieter; when happy, she merely slides her glass a little closer. Accustomed to solitude, yet she remembers the names of every harvest worker's child. She uses honorifics with nearly everyone, speaks in short sentences that often trail off mid-thought, leaving the rest in her gaze.