Eventually, Alis moved to Temecula in Southern California, where she met Eli Callaway. He convinced her that she should sell wine. Alis became a "Callaway girl," part of a unique sales group known for beauty, brains and a brilliant marketing concept.

Three years later, in 1981, a young winemaker of considerable reputation came by the Callaway table at the first California Wine Experience in San Francisco and invited the Callaway girls to visit him at Chateau St. Jean. Alis fell in love with Sonoma County, and soon moved there, putting her bilingual skills to use as director of hospitality for French-owned Piper-Sonoma Cellars. Alis and Richard Arrowood married in 1985. That year proved to be an exceptional vintage worldwide, and it was also the very first vintage for another partnership between Richard and Alis – Arrowood Vineyards & Winery.

While Richard stayed on as executive vice president/winemaster at St. Jean, the Arrowoods invested equally to build their own winery six miles down the road in Sonoma Valley. Alis's duties were many and varied, from dragging hoses in the cellar to hosting guests to traveling cross-country on sales trips. Richard joined her full time in 1990, and they worked diligently together until Robert Mondavi Corp. purchased Arrowood in 2000.

Again, Richard remained as winemaster, while Alis increased her travel schedule over the following three years. In what spare time they could muster, the Arrowoods built a new residence near Sonoma and planted 20 acres of vines on their property, intending to sell the fruit to Arrowood. But after Constellation Brands purchased Mondavi in 2004, then sold Arrowood in 2005 to the Legacy Estate Group (which soon filed for bankruptcy), Richard and Alis began Amapola Creek.

Did you speak French there?

We were French-speaking Canadians from Quebec, but in Timmins, the majority of people were English-speaking. In those days, school was taught either in one language or the other; there were no two-way immersion programs. I remember they passed the hat in church to raise money for a French teacher’s salary. So I learned French in school, spoke it in our home and learned English playing outside.

When we moved back to Montreal, my family lived for a few years in the north end of town, which was populated predominately by French-Canadians and Italians, so we slowly started losing our English. By the time I was 11 or 12, we could afford to move to the suburbs, where English dominated because English speakers were typically more successful.

Then I became so anglicized that my mother forbade the use of English in our home. My father realized that English was becoming the international language of business, and that if we wanted our opportunities to extend beyond Montreal, we had to speak English. But he didn’t want us to lose our heritage either.

Obviously you remained bilingual…

Yes. Although I lived mostly in English-speaking neighborhoods, my formal schooling was in French. I attended C.E.G.E.P. Bois de Bologne – something like junior college here. In my last year, I participated in a summer student program as a flight attendant with Air Canada. I loved it and stayed with it.

What brought you to California, other than a flight?

Actually, it was a return flight from Los Angeles and I got stuck on the ground in Toronto during a blizzard. I met a passenger on the way to the hotel who was the wrong guy for forever, but the right man to change the course of my life. Six months later we had married and were living in Orange County. He was a health nut and wanted out of the smog, so we moved to Temecula in Southern California, and that was my introduction to the wine business.

He was a sweet guy, but he never should have gotten married. He left with his company car, and without a company car, I stayed in Temecula. I was studying real estate and hosting at the Homestead Restaurant. Eli Callaway had lunch there several times a week.

Did Callaway recruit you to sell his wine?

He did. He was a great old guy, very dapper with a funny cackle of a laugh. The first "Callaway girl" was Eileen McLemore. I was the third. At our sales meeting, he said not to tell people ours was the best Chardonnay. He said, “You sell fine wine because these wines are just fine!” Our wines were good enough.

He was a brilliant marketer. He had made a fortune by recognizing that if you stuck two stockings together, women would buy and wear panty hose. He told us that most people are proud of their knowledge and will teach you what you need to know if you will just shut up and listen.

Eli did not want snobs with biases selling his wine. He reasoned that because women in those days could be “forgiven” for not knowing, and posed no threat to them, men would share their wisdom with them.

And he was a great salesman?

Oh, yes. He told a compelling story about the rainbow gap, cooling breezes and Chardonnay in the high desert. And the wines were fine. We sold dry Chenin Blanc, targeted for the novice wine drinker going out for a special occasion. Our largest accounts were high-end chain restaurants, like Cask and Cleaver and the Rusty Pelican.

On Mondays, Eli would get school buses, pick up several restaurant staffs and bring them to the winery for a tour, tasting and lunch under the arbor. We served grilled chicken, sausage, refried beans and tortillas – he wanted to prove his wines went with real food. People felt his wines were theirs, that they could sell those wines because they had been to the source. Of course, in those days, wine lists were printed on an annual rather than a daily basis, so once you were on…

What was the most important lesson you learned there?

The important role of hospitality in personalizing our business. Eli showed up every Monday, gave the tour personally, and sat down for lunch with his guests.
My husband and I take different approaches on this issue. I think that sort of hospitality is vital. Richard is very good with people once he’s engaged, but he’s basically a recluse who feels that if you make the wine good enough, people will buy it.

Speaking of Richard, did you meet when you were with Callaway?

In 1981, Eli sent his top three salespeople to the very first California Wine Experience in San Francisco. We were behind the table and Richard, who knew our assistant winemaker, Duane Helmuth, from Fresno State, came by to check us out. He invited us all to visit Chateau St. Jean. I was the brunette between two blondes, so I guess he noticed me, and we started dating. I moved up to this beautiful area in the spring of 1982. I was hired by Rod Strong as Piper-Sonoma Cellars director of hospitality and I opened the visitor center for them.

We married early in 1985. Richard was on board Chateau St. Jean’s private rail cars on the east coast, and I was on the Sonoma County Wineries Tour in Florida. We met in Roanoke, Virginia, and were married by the justice of the peace. Then we went to the Homestead resort. Our limo driver, Ernest, was our best man, witness and photographer. That was the highlight of his week, because the day before he had been hauling garbage. We got stopped for speeding, and the whole thing was like a Woody Allen movie.

And you started Arrowood Vineyards & Winery the same year?

Yes. We had been kicking the idea around. It was great fun because I’m a bit of a tomboy and loved the nuts and bolts of it. Richard was the visionary and I was the mechanic – slave labor, really. Working hands-on in the cellar, at last I was able to answer all the questions I had had as a salesperson about sugars, batonage, pumpovers, racking wine and cleaning presses. It was an adventure.

How did you relate to your husband on the job?

He was the boss. We all worked for him. It was an equal business investment for the two of us, but I’m a much better number two than number one. I never questioned him in the cellar. Outside of there, I tended to question everything.

What drew you to him?

Before I met Richard, I had sold Callaway dry Johannisberg Riesling, Chenin Blanc and Chardonnay and competed against Chateau St. Jean. So I knew his wines and knew how gifted he was.

At first, I was intimidated because I thought he was going to bust me, to expose my lack of knowledge about wine. I thought he’d talk all night about Brix and yeast, but he talked about me – my favorite subject! Once you get him to talk to people, he’s a wonderful guest and host, because he’s so curious. He fascinates me. He’s interesting and stimulating. And I’m a far better and more accomplished individual for having known him, because you can’t help but want to excel when you’re with someone who is so focused. It’s a way of life.

Is that what Amapola Creek Winery is about, a continuing way of life?

This little winery is his true reward. When we started Arrowood Winery, we risked everything. It was a career move, a professional business venture. And fortunately it worked out well. Being approached with the Mondavi offer for a lot of money was great, but the best part was the recognition for Richard from Robert Mondavi. The godfather of our industry said to Richard, “Don’t change anything.”

So for this little winery, we have the financial resources to do it without fear. It’s like getting the old E-ticket at Disneyland; you know you’re in for a great time.

How did you discover Montana and your “other” life there?

It was just like finding our present home and winery site or finding the place to build Arrowood – it was a fluke.

Richard loves fly fishing. He started going to Alaska when we started dating, and he always wanted me to go. I mentioned my tomboy proclivities; I had fished as a kid when I played with my cousins. But in those Alaska photos, it always looked cloudy and cold, and I hate cold. So Richard gave me a fly rod for my birthday and took me up to the Russian River at Belle Terre Vineyards to show me how to cast. Instantly, I loved the movement, the soothing feel of casting. Since I had no license, he promptly took the rod back, but I agreed to go to Alaska.

My first fish was a big, beautiful sockeye salmon, and we ate it for lunch, my favorite meal. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. I love hedonism, and that was instant gratification. I think I love fishing as much or more than he does.

In 1994, Richard was in Montana and he was invited to fish where they filmed A River Runs Through It. He asked me to accompany him there to look at some property. I only went along to prevent a financial blunder, but when I set foot on the porch of this little log cabin at the base of the Rockies, I knew I was home. I think I love Montana as much or more than he does, too. When I had to pack to leave the first time, I felt like crying.

When we’re up there, Richard still love fly fishing, but also enjoys shotgunning. His passion is sporting clays. He will shoot 250 or more rounds several times a week in Montana. He won’t hunt for anything that he doesn’t eat – no deer, elk or duck. He only hunts wily, fast, challenging upland game birds, pheasant or grouse. Then he’ll happily walk five or six miles per day.

So there was no temptation just to ride off into the Montana sunset?

I’ve always wanted to retire, but Richard said, “If I retire, who will I be? I’m a winemaker.” He will continue to do what he loves just because he loves it. He still needs to excel. He needs to be part of a successful if modest business enterprise – to cover costs, make a little money and have fun. Mother Nature will exert the only pressure on him.

As for me, I thought I had retired. Amapola Creek was something Richard was going to do. I wanted to learn to play golf. But each day gets more exciting. As we talk about this project, I find it more stimulating and attractive. What if we do this? I’ve gone from being a supportive wife to an eager partner.

My greatest concern is that my job may pull from my weakest skill set – organization and follow-up. I have permanent writer’s block. I don’t like e-mail. I am thoroughly disorganized and shouldn’t be allowed in an office.

On the other hand, I love the idea of wine and working in the cellar. I love to be at or inside of a winery. I’d love to work for my husband, but in the cellar. Please, make me a cellar rat! (Laughs.)

You’re disorganized. What don’t most people know about Richard?

He’s complex, a walking contradiction – isn’t that a Kris Kristofferson line? He’s amazingly modest, but can give the impression of being arrogant. He’s gregarious, but may seem aloof or anti-social. He is curious, fascinated about other people’s accomplishments, but not initially outgoing, so he can appear disinterested.

He has an extraordinary palate, but he likes the pure flavors of simple foods. There are some Meursault-like, rich Chardonnays that he enjoys very much – Ramey and Kistler, for example. But his own style of winemaking is different; he doesn’t want to manipulate the fruit, and he’s more fascinated by how it expresses itself. For him, that’s the greater challenge. And so, the greater joy.