Fire in the Vineyard

by Christa Polkinhorn

  “What’s the occasion for this rich breakfast?” Nicholas carried the plates with the eggs and bacon to the table.

  “You need something solid in your stomach after getting up so early … and I’m sick and tired of my healthy cereal.” Sofia gave him a warning look as if to say, “Don’t you dare mention my wanting to lose weight.”

  Nicholas had no intention of saying anything of that sort. In fact, he liked the love handles Sofia had left over from her pregnancy. “Honey, thank you, this is a real treat for a hard-working peasant.”

  “Ha ha.” Sofia grinned. “How are the vines doing?”

  “Perfect,” Nicholas, said. “The Sangiovese should be ready to harvest in a couple of weeks.”

  With breakfast over, Nicholas grabbed a handful of mail from the basket next to the front door. He separated the bills from the other mail and sat down at the table again. Staring at the pile of bills, he sighed, then got up, went into the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee. Sitting back down, he groaned.

  “What’s the matter?” Sofia asked. She was reclined on the sofa, breastfeeding Henry. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, then sat straight up again and motioned at the papers in front of him. “Bills, bills, bills. Perhaps we should’ve listened to Grandpa’s warning before buying the house.”

  “Are we in trouble?” Sofia’s voice shook a little.

  “Not in deep trouble,” Nicholas said. “It’s just, we don’t seem to get ahead. We had a great harvest two years ago. The one last year was fine, not great. I just wish we could’ve had a larger down payment. The mortgage is killing us.”

  Sofia got up, carrying Henry on her shoulder, trying to burp him. She came over to Nicholas and watched him sort through the bills. “Hmm. Perhaps I should accept more free-lance work,” she suggested.

  “No, Sofia, you have enough to do with the baby and helping us at the winery. I think we’ll be okay. Just have to tighten our belts for a while.”

  “That’s okay,” Sofia said. “Perhaps, we could refinance and borrow a larger down payment from the family. They’d help.”

  “No, I don’t want to borrow money from the relatives. Id’ feel embarrassed.” Nicholas slapped one of the bills on the table. “I guess I’m too proud to admit having been a little reckless. You know Grandpa suggested we wait until we had more of a down payment. Of course, he was right. We were just too impatient.”

  “It’s probably my fault,” Sofia said. “I fell in love with the house, and if we hadn’t taken it when it was available, someone else might have snatched it up.”

  Sofia let her eyes wander over the living room of their dream house with the hardwood floor, covered by a few colorful rugs, the large floor to ceiling windows and sliding glass doors, the breakfast nook in the corner next to the open kitchen with the island, the walls with their light wood paneling.

  “It’s not your fault. I loved the house as much as you did. Still do. We’ll be okay.” Nicholas got up and kissed Henry. “You love it, too, don’t you,” he cooed. “Having your own nursery and a nice large yard, once you’re big enough to walk and enjoy it.”

  The baby made gurgling sounds and grabbed Nicholas’s chin. “See, he agrees,” he said.

  “Time for his diaper change.” Sofia kissed Nicholas. “Don’t worry. It’ll work out, you’ll see.” She got ready to carry Henry to the nursery.

  “I know,” Nicholas said. “Anyway, time for me to do some work and get my mind off finances.” He picked up the bills and shoved them back into the box for the current mail. “See you later,” he called. He opened the door and left.

  While Nicholas was at the winery, Sofia took advantage of Henry’s second nap of the morning, poured herself another cup of coffee, and stepped onto the patio. The sun had risen but it was still cool enough for a few moments to enjoy the outside. Sofia gazed at the fields around her, burnt by the hot summer. The air smelled of lavender from the shrub at the edge of the patio.

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A lot of work with the baby and the estate as well as short nights, interrupted by Henry’s early wake-up calls, didn’t leave much time to relax. Soon she would take the little boy to his great-grandma Maria and join Nicholas at the winery. There was an outright competition between the family members as to who got to babysit Henry. Sofia was grateful for the love and attention she received from her in-laws, her own family having dwindled to her aunt and her grandparents.

  The jingle of her cell phone interrupted the quiet. It was her grandmother on her father’s side in Vermont, checking in on her and her great-grand baby.

  “What a coincidence,” Sofia said. “I was just thinking of you.” They talked for a while and Sofia promised to visit with Henry soon. They exchanged the latest news and her grandmother thanked her for the pictures Sofia and Nicholas had sent over the Internet. Both her paternal grandparents were too old to travel much anymore. But her grandmother loved social media and was on Facebook almost every day.

  As appreciative as Sofia was for her in-laws, she sometimes regretted the fact that she couldn’t share her little boy more with her own side of the family. She missed her father. He would have been such a wonderful grandfather to his little namesake. Fortunately, her father-in-law was a good grandpa to little Henry. It warmed her heart to see how the usually impatient and often curt Robert was loving and tender with his first grandchild.

  Sofia didn’t have many memories of her mother, a woman who had suffered from bipolar disorder and ended up killing herself with an overdose of drugs when Sofia was twelve years old. She had very few happy memories of her mother. It was really her aunt Emma who had raised her and had become her mother.

  Her father had been not only her parent but also her best friend. When she found out that he had led a double life, had had a lover in Tuscany and fathered a daughter, she had been deeply disappointed by his lack of honesty. As upsetting and tumultuous that time had been, it had also enriched her life. She now had a sister, something she had always wished for. And now Julietta was with her in California, which made Sofia very happy.

  Chapter 16

  Robert was going through some papers in his office when the phone rang. He picked it up and answered with his usual curt “Yep. What’s the matter?”

  “Excuse me? Is this the Segantino estate?” a male voice said.

  Robert checked the display and noticed that it was an external call. “I’m sorry. I thought it was an internal call. Yes, this is the Segantino Winery. How can I help you?”

  “Hi there. My name is Sam Heller from the Wine Boutique in Solvang. I had ordered some of your wine in the past from one of your agents. I wanted to place another order, but I can’t get a hold of the man. I get a ‘number not in service’ message.”

  “Oh?” Robert said, baffled. “What was the name of the agent? We don’t really work with agents, at least not in the United States, just with restaurants or stores directly.”

  “Really? How odd. Well, the name was Santori, Fred, yes, Fred Santori. I had written it down.”

  Robert hesitated. “I don’t know anybody by that name. But let me check with my manager. When did you say you ordered the wine?”

  “About a month ago. Yeah, here it is, on July 5. It was a special deal, as he mentioned. I ordered several bottles of Cabernet. I liked the wine a lot and, as I said, I wanted to order more.”

  “Okay,” Robert said. “I’m happy you liked it. Listen, let me call you back. I just want to double-check the order with my manager and accountant. Just make sure, we work with a Santori.”

  “Do you think there is something wrong with the order? It sounded like a legitimate sale. I’m usually careful about checking the source, but since this was a special deal, I just accepted.”

  “I don’t blame you at all. I just want to make sure everything is okay. Give me your number and I’ll call you right back. Oh, I have your number on my display.” Robert repeated the phone number.

  “Yes, that’s fine,” the ma
n said.

  “Great, Mr. Heller.”

  “Call me Sam.”

  “Okay, Sam, I’ll be in touch.” Robert disconnected. He stared at the wall for a while, trying to make sense of this odd phone call. Something very strange was going on, something very wrong, something that might explain the disappearing wine. Did someone sell stolen wine under his name and label?

  He called Ken on the phone and asked him to come to his office, then stepped into the hallway and waved to Romero, who came walking toward him.

  “Where’s Matt?” he asked.

  “I think he’s in the cellar, fixing a leaking hose,” the manager said.

  “Why is he fixing the hose? Can’t one of the workers do it?” Robert barked annoyed.

  Romero shrugged, then hurried toward the door to the winery. “I’ll get him.”

  A few minutes later, Romero came back with Matthew in tow.

  “What are you doing, fixing a hose?” Robert asked, irritated. “I’ve told you before you don’t have to do all the grunt work. There’re enough workers who can take care of that.”

  Matthew glared at him. “Everybody was busy, so I did it myself. What’s the big deal?”

  Robert waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. We’ve other things to talk about. He walked back into his office and motioned to the men to come in. “Close the door and sit down.” He pointed at the chairs. “We got a new problem. A serious one.”

  “What’s going on?” Matthew asked.

  Three pairs of worried eyes looked at Robert. “I just got a troubling phone call.” He told them about the wine merchant who had wanted to order more wine but couldn’t find the so-called agent who had sold it to him in the first place.

  “Have any of you heard of a man by the name of Fred Santori?”

  The three men shook their heads and stared at him, puzzled. “We don’t have any agents, do we? At least not for sales in the United States,” Matthew said. “Only direct clients.”

  “That’s right,” Robert said. “But someone in this country must be posing as an agent of our estate and selling our wine illegally.”

  “Jesus,” Ken said. “Is that where the disappearing wine bottles went?” He stared at Romero and Matthew.

  “But then who is Fred … what’s his name? Santori?” Romero asked, his voice tense.

  “I bet it’s a fake name,” Robert said. “Sam Heller, the wine merchant who just called me, said that the phone number he received and tried to call was either false or disconnected. Besides, as far as I know we never sold anything to Sam Heller at the Wine Boutique. Right, Ken?”

  Ken scratched his forehead. “I don’t think so. I’d have to double-check the records to see if he’s in our wine club or if we ever sold him anything.”

  “Well, even if we did, we would have sold it to him directly,” Matthew said. “And not through some unknown agent.”

  “As much as I hate to say it. It looks like someone is stealing bottles of our wine and selling them.” Robert scratched his head.

  The other three men exchanged stunned looks.

  “Has anybody noticed anything unusual?” asked Robert. “Even if it sounds insignificant, it may lead to something.”

  More shaking heads and puzzled faces.

  “Do you mean …?” Matthew swallowed hard. “Someone on the estate is doing this?”

  Robert measured him thoughtfully. “What else could it be? Unless someone from outside can walk through the estate without raising suspicions.” He glanced at Ken. “What do you think of Adam?”

  Ken looked surprised. “How do you mean? He does a good job, is very helpful, seems like a nice guy. Why?”

  “Just a thought.” Robert didn’t want to raise suspicions without having proof. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get the authorities involved. It could even become a matter for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. In the meantime, let’s pay attention and be vigilant. If you hear or see anything, let me know.”

  “Yes, of course,” Matthew said.

  Robert stood. The other three men did the same and started toward the door. “Romero? One moment,” Robert said.

  Romero stopped at the door. After the other two had left, Robert walked up to him. “You seem very gloomy. Something wrong with Nora?”

  Robert was shocked to see tears well up in Romero’s eyes. “Yes. She had another attack last night.” His voice broke.

  “I’m so sorry. Listen, if there’s anything I can do, let me know, please.”

  Romero nodded. “Yes, I know. We’re grateful for your help, but all we can do right now is wait and see.”

  “Give my regards to Juanita and Nora,” Robert said, putting a hand on Romero’s shoulder.

  Romero nodded, gave a weak smile, and left.

  Robert sat down at his desk and stared into space. He was truly worried now. When they first noticed the missing bottles of Cabernet, he hoped they had been misplaced. Now, however, it was clear the wine was stolen.

  But who? And when did it all start? He had been told about the missing bottles a month ago, but that’s when one of the workers first discovered it. Sam Heller’s order, however, went back to the fifth of July, so it could have started earlier in the year without anybody noticing. They only did a thorough inventory at the end of the year, and unless a large number of bottles went missing all at once, it could have stayed under the radar.

  Robert pressed his fingers against his forehead and rubbed his temples. What bothered him more was the question of who? It must have been someone with access to the storage facility. During the day, quite a few people of his staff had access. At night and on weekends, the storage facility was locked. There was no sign of a break-in. After the regular working hours, some of the long-time employees and members of his family had keys.

  What was worse was the fact that the wine was being sold. If someone had taken some wine for his or her own consumption, that would have been one thing. It would have been bad enough and certainly a theft. But that could have been dealt with internally. But wine being sold illegally was a crime. Robert hated to get the police involved, but he had no choice.

  He picked up the phone and called Romero. “Make a list of all the people you know of who have access to the storage facility during the day and who have a key for it after work … including members of my family.”

  There was silence, then Romero. “Members of the family? You don’t think …”

  “No, probably not, but I want to cover all the bases. And, Romero, keep it quiet for right now.”

  “Certainly,” Romero said. He sounded dejected.

  No wonder. Whatever way they looked at it. The peace of the estate was shattered. Exhaling deeply, Robert called Walt Smith, the sheriff. He explained the situation. Walt told him he would contact the ATF and try to find someone who had experience with crimes involving wine.

  The following morning, Robert found two lists with names on his desk, one of them with members of the daytime staff who had access to the storage room and the cellar. It included about twenty people. The second list contained the persons who had a key and access during non-working hours. It listed the longtime employees and all his family members. Romero’s name was on top of the list.

  Robert gave a quick chuckle, then added his own name on top of Romero’s.

  Chapter 17

  Romero didn’t really feel like meeting his friends for a guys’ evening out, but he also felt too restless to stay home. He was upset about the upheaval caused by the wine theft and illegal sale. Guilt haunted him; this should’ve never happened under his watch. Exhaling deeply, he stared out the window at the fields of vines in front of his house. The ripe grapes, almost ready for the harvest that normally gladdened him, now made him feel miserable. Better go out after all, he thought. Otherwise, he’d be pacing the whole evening and wouldn’t be able to settle down. At least he could have a few drinks. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to forget the whole calamity, but the alcohol might numb the pai
n and guilt somewhat. Amazing, he thought, how fast an innocent pleasure could turn into an addiction. He felt his wife’s eyes on him.

  “I’m off,” Romero said. “I may be late. Don’t wait up for me.” He picked up his wallet from the table.

  “You look elegant.” Juanita smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. Romero was dressed in slacks and a light-blue button-down shirt. “You sure you’re getting together with a bunch of male friends and not some pretty women?”

  “Silly goose,” Romero said. “I’m not interested in pretty women. A beautiful Juanita is quite enough for me.” He kissed her and forced a smile.

  Juanita gently touched his arm. “I just hope they’ll solve the puzzle soon, and you can relax again.

  “It’s my fault,” he said. “I wish I could just make it go away. The whole thing is very upsetting.”

  “Does Robert blame you?”

  “No, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m the manager and ultimately responsible. I should’ve been more careful.”

  “Romero, he’s the owner. He should’ve paid attention, too.”

  “No, Juanita. He depends on me for running the estate.”

  “Perhaps he shouldn’t be gone so much. It’s unfair to have you run the whole estate with so little help.”

  “Matthew helps,” Romero said. “And the rest of the staff. Look, whatever way you turn it, it’s a real mess.”

  “I just hope it’s not someone from the estate, doing all this.”

  Romero nodded. He looked at his watch. “I better go.”

  Juanita patted his shoulder. “Go and have a good time with your friends. And forget about the whole thing for a while. It will be resolved one way or the other, you’ll see.”

  “One way or the other. Either way will be a disaster.” His voice trembled. He gave a quick wave and left.

  Juanita followed him to the door and watched as he walked to the car. He was hunched over, as if he carried the world on his back. Why did he take it so hard? He had been troubled for weeks, more than usual. She attributed it to his being worried about Nora. He shouldn’t be worried about the estate that much. Yes, he was the manager, but he worked hard. Other people needed to help shoulder the burden. She liked Robert, he had been very generous with them, but she wasn’t the only one who felt he should be more directly involved in the estate. She’d heard the same complaints from Matthew and even Janice.