The Winemaker

by Charmaine Pauls

  Etán sighed. “Will you stop putting words in my mouth?”

  “Anyway...” She reached up and pulled a hand through Etán’s hair. “Sorry, I’ve wanted to touch that since the first time I saw your sorry, suited ass in the street.”

  Etán smiled, both startled and pleased by the action. “Are you always this honest when you’re drunk?”

  “I’m not drunk,” she protested. “Anyway, you know, this morning I was almost arrested for owning a stolen car.” She tilted her head. “Oh. Yes. You were there, too.”

  “I’m sorry the detectives handled it so poorly.”

  “So what am I supposed to do now? Can’t leave the country. No job. No money. Oh, God, listen to me, I sound like a beggar board.”

  “What were you going to do, before ... you know?”

  “Before that bastard left me? I enrolled for a degree in leisure and tourism at the university. It was Marcos’ idea. He was a ski instructor. We were going to start a travel agency for English speaking tourists. Now he’s a model, and he’s fucking his agent.” She shook her head. “How did I get here?”

  The biker who had his eye on Zenna approached their table. “He your boyfriend?” he asked Zenna.

  “I told you before, we’re together,” Etán said without blinking.

  “Like hell!” Zenna snorted. “He’s my neighbor. He’s nothing to me.”

  “She’s drunk,” Etán said. “It would be best if you take a hike.”

  The man planted his feet apart, making it clear he had no desire to go anywhere. “You heard the lady. I wasn’t talking to you, smartass.” He turned back to Zenna. “If this suit is not your boyfriend, sweet cheeks, care for a dance?” The man hitched his thumbs into his belt, his stance one of challenge.

  Luca appeared with a bottle of mineral water. “Uh, Etán, now is a good time to get her out of here.” He nodded toward the staircase.

  Etán’s fingers gripped Zenna’s arms. She wiggled to free herself, but Etán’s grip only tightened.

  She cursed. “I’m only just starting having fun. I haven’t danced, yet.”

  The man with the red leather jacket took a step closer to them. “You heard her. The lady wants to dance.”

  Etán tensed. “The lady wants to go home.”

  Before he had time to say more, Zenna burped unladylike. “Oh, boy. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Etán got to his feet, pulling Zenna into his arms. “Make way. She needs fresh air.”

  The biker looked like he wanted to protest, but in the same moment Zenna doubled over, heaved and vomited on the floor.

  The man swore and jumped back. He looked at Etán, Luca, and Zenna in disgust, shook his boots, said something insulting, and stalked off.

  Luca took a bill from his wallet and left it on the table, while Etán tried to wipe Zenna’s mouth with a paper napkin.

  “Come,” Luca said to Etán, “she’s had enough fun for one night. Let’s get her home.” He made his way to the stairs, clearing a path for Etán and Zenna through the crowd.

  Etán decided it would go quicker if he carried Zenna, instead of trying to drag her uncooperative feet along. Despite her protest, he scooped her into his arms and followed Luca up the stairs.

  Luca waited at the exit until Etán had caught up with him before he retrieved his mobile phone and pressed the speed dial button for a taxi service. When the reply came promptly, he gave the address of the bar.

  Luca nodded at the bouncer who swung the double doors open, and, in an instant, they were back on the pavement in the cold.

  “What now?” Luca said, scanning the road.

  “She passed out,” Etán said. He felt the warmth of Zenna’s body against his chest, infiltrating his skin. He looked down at her relaxed form.

  Luca gave his brother a piercing look. “She’s not your type, Bro. Don’t wiggle yourself into serious shit.”

  Etán’s eyebrows shot up. “Who said anything about her being my type?”

  Luca shrugged, his stare probing. “I’m just saying. Look at her. She’s trouble, Bro. Poison in a small bottle.”

  Etán shifted Zenna’s weight in his arms. “What are you saying, Luca?”

  Luca shook his head, the habitual smile creeping back into his eyes. “Let it go, Etán. I’m the one going around with the rebels, remember?”

  “Thanks for your concern, but it’s not needed.”

  “I’m not concerned for you, Bro. It’s her I’m worried about, knowing what an asshole you are. Don’t start something you can’t follow through.”

  “Keep your eyes on the road.” Etán’s voice was flat. “The taxi should be here any minute. I know what I’m doing.”

  He sounded like a man who was sure of himself and sure of what he was doing. Only, right then, Etán didn’t know what the hell he was doing standing in front of a dodgy bar with a drunken English woman passed out in his arms. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel self-assured at all.

  * * * *

  “Good boys,” Ana purred the next morning at the breakfast table as she poured the coffee. “Still,” she said to Etán, a light reprimand in her voice, “you shouldn’t have left her alone in the state you said she was in last night.”

  Luca smiled, giving his brother a knowing look. “I told you so.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes filled with mischief. “You know, Mom, he didn’t even undress her before putting her to bed. He should have left the job to me. Just because he’s the oldest doesn’t mean he should get all the enjoyable responsibilities.”

  Ana clicked her tongue. “Cut it out, Luca. I won’t have this type of talk in my house, especially not at the breakfast table.” She turned back to her oldest son. “Etán, leaving her alone, really. After the day she had.”

  Etán looked from Luca to Ana. “What? Should I have dragged her back here, and then what? She would have woken up in the spare bedroom embarrassed like hell. Let her wake up in her own space. Spare her more humiliation.”

  “Etán, you must go over there today and invite her to come with us this weekend,” Ana said.

  Etán’s cup halted halfway to his mouth. “Invite her to the estate for the weekend?”

  “She cannot stay here on her own for the whole weekend. What if she slips out to that awful bar again? She hasn’t had an easy time since arriving in this country, and you know how it gets around the neighborhood on a Friday afternoon. Everyone heads out of town. She’ll be all alone. She needs a break. It will do her good.”

  Luca bit into his toast. “You know, I haven’t been to the estate myself for a while,” he said between chewing. “I think I’ll come, too.”

  Ana regarded Luca with surprise. Luca preferred to spend weekends in his flat in town to hang out with his friends in nightclubs and restaurants. He didn’t usually join the family for their weekend gatherings on the estate where Etán resided. He considered it too quiet. The fact that he had spent the night at his parents’ house in Santiago was already a miracle. Luca stopped by frequently for a quick visit, but he hadn’t stayed over since he had moved to his flat just after finishing school.

  “Don’t play games, Luca,” Etán said. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

  Luca shrugged. “What?”

  Pedro’s voice interjected from the doorway. “Don’t tell me you’re already fighting over breakfast.” He looked pleased to see both his sons at his breakfast table for the first time in years.

  Ana patted the chair next to her. “Hurry up, Pedro. You’re late. By the way, Zenna is coming to visit us at the estate for the weekend.”

  Both Etán and Luca smiled. Her sons knew her as a woman who always got what she wanted.

  * * * *

  When Zenna opened the door later that afternoon, she gave Etán one look and then groaned. “I do hope that’s not wine.” She motioned to the bottle he cradled in his arm.

  He smiled, holding it out to her. “I brought you something, a late welcoming gift, and I thought maybe
you needed to relax with a glass of wine.” He looked her over. “Or maybe not.”

  She considered not letting him in, but the man stood there with a bottle of wine in his hand, and he had helped her out last night. She stepped aside resignedly, and led the way to the kitchen.

  “Tea?” she asked over her shoulder, and she could have sworn Etán had been studying her ass.

  “No, thank you. I have a meeting in Providencia. Just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing,” he grinned, “after last night.”

  She drew her hands through her hair and flopped down in a chair at the kitchen table. “Last night. Yeah. About that...” She looked at him, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Etán put the bottle on the table and crossed his arms. “It’s a pleasure.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What was a pleasure?”

  Etán raised his brow. “You don’t remember?”

  She groaned again. “Please, don’t torture me. I cannot remember since after...” she broke off suddenly. “I’m not good at sidestepping issues, so I’m just going to say it. I’m sorry I kissed you.”

  “Oh, so that part you remember.”

  “I don’t know what got into me. I guess I just needed to blow off steam.”

  “You sure as hell did.”

  She frowned. “How did you end up in the same bar as me?”

  “We followed you.”

  “We?”

  “My brother, Luca, and I.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember. Another person who witnessed my embarrassment. Why the hell did you follow me?”

  Etán thought for a moment. “You can say my mother had a kind of feeling you were going to get yourself into trouble. She asked us to keep an eye on you. She sends her regards, says she’s happy that nothing serious happened to you last night.”

  Zenna cursed. “Your mother knows about last night? That’s so embarrassing.”

  Etán shrugged. “We’ve all been there and needed to wash our sorrows away with Pisco.”

  “Have you?” she said hopefully.

  “No.” He shook his head.

  When she didn’t say anything, but simply stared at him, he smiled. “Listen, my mother sent me to invite you to our estate for the weekend.”

  “Your estate?”

  “Yes. We have a wine estate. It’s not far. On the outskirts of town, south of Santiago.”

  “You go there every weekend?” She had noticed Ana and Pedro packing the pickup on Friday afternoons. They left in the early evening and returned on Sunday nights.

  “Not me. I actually live there. I sometimes stay here at my parents’ place when I come to town for business. My parents come every weekend.” When she hesitated, he continued, “It’s tranquil, and peaceful. You won’t be bothered, I promise.”

  “Your mother is very kind.”

  “It’s cultural.”

  “I doubt that very much. Not everyone is as caring as your mother.” Zenna looked at her hands. “Thanks, but I can’t impose. I’ll come over later and explain to Ana.”

  “Look, Zenna, I know you’ve been through a tough time, and you need a break. Anyway, we invite visitors all the time. My mother thrives on having someone else besides us to cook for. All the neighbors are leaving for the weekend. It will be depressing to stay here by yourself.”

  She glanced at the bottle of wine, unseeing. She fingered the label, the embossed name, Sol y Sombra, absent-mindedly. “I’ll think about it.”

  Etán got to his feet. “No need to waste your time thinking. My mother won’t accept no for an answer. Pack a weekend bag. I’m heading home earlier, but my parents are leaving at four to get there before sunset. They’ll wait for you.”

  He bent over her, holding her gaze, and to her utter surprise he lowered his head and planted a kiss on her lips. It was a kiss unlike any other. His teeth gently nipped at her lips before his tongue swept, as delicious as honey, over them. She hadn’t realized she closed her eyes, but when she no longer felt the contact of his melting touch, she flicked them open to see him straightening abruptly.

  Her hand went to her moist lips. “What was that? Revenge for last night?”

  His eyes shone with a suppressed smile. “Yes. I just wanted to see if your lips tasted like burnt sugar without Pisco, too.”

  She stared at him, too taken aback to think of a clever comment, and then he simply turned and let himself out of the house.

  Chapter Four

  The sun hung low over the vineyard, setting it alight with a golden glow reflected in the lily-filled pond at the edge of the extended lawn. The garden was flawlessly manicured, a preview of the perfection to be found in and around Villa Sol y Sombra. Not a stone or a vase was out of place, from the neatly raked white-gravel road leading up to the mansion to the spotlessly polished marble floors. All under the iron fist of Etán’s rule, Zenna was sure.

  She lifted her head to the breeze that brought the chill of the descending night. This country had an abundance of sun, even in winter. She still felt its warmth lingering on her skin. She left the city wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, a pair of light jeans, and hiking shoes. It was only now the sun was setting that she considered locating her luggage to find a jersey, but she was reluctant to leave her peaceful spot on the veranda.

  Her eyes feasted on the seemingly endless vineyard before they were drawn to the double rows of white, marble statues that lined a walkway shaded by a creeper. It led from the back of the veranda all the way to the cellars. She knew why her mind tended there now. It was where he was. Etán. She wondered what he was still doing there so late on a Friday afternoon. She had only learned from Ana during the drive here what Etán did for a living. Tasting? Mixing? Whatever did winemakers do?

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Ana’s voice startled Zenna.

  She turned to see Ana coming through one of the lounge doors, carrying a tray with two steaming cups. She put it on the low table in front of Zenna. Zenna nodded in silent agreement, letting her gaze flick back to the sunset.

  Ana took the wicker chair next to her. “The vineyard and the villa have been in Pedro’s family for three centuries. Of course, the villa has been added to over the years. It hadn’t always been the monstrosity it is now. Pedro’s forefather bought the land in the seventeenth century to plant the vineyard. It hasn’t always been easy. We’re lucky to be able to sit here and admire this view. The vineyard was one of the very few that survived the uprooting of vines when the Spanish monarchy responded to pressure from Spanish winemakers and forbade wine production in its colonies.”

  “I never imagined it would be this beautiful.”

  Ana smiled. “Is this your first visit to a vineyard?”

  “Yes. It was on our ... Marcos and my ... list of tours we were going to offer once we had established our travel agency. But that was before ... you know...” Zenna hesitated, and then quickly changed the course of the conversation. “Has winemaking always been a family tradition?”

  “Pretty much. The trade was handed down from father to son.”

  “Getting acquainted with the Chilean vineyards is part of the course I enrolled for at the university. I would love to learn about its history. Do you mind telling me a bit about yours? How did it become so successful?”

  “Well, after the winemaking ban was lifted, Sol y Sombra produced large quantities of mediocre wines, like most other vineyards in Chile at the time. This was the norm for roughly a hundred years. Chile became independent in 1818, leading to a new boom in the industry.

  “Then a Frenchman, Claudio Gay, started a local organization to study European grape vines and botany in 1830, which led to a long and flourishing winemaking relationship between France and Chile. Pedro’s ancestors all went to France to study winemaking.” Ana folded her hands in her lap and stared out over the vineyard.

  “Pedro’s great-great-grandfather brought grapes from Bordeaux in France to Sol y Sombra in 1883. The varieties included Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon, Merlot, and
Carmenere grapes. Are you familiar with the cultivars?”

  Zenna shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “I won’t bore you with all the technicalities. You can say since the estate started producing Bordeaux style blends, its wine has reached an excellent quality, and Pedro’s grandfather was able to start exporting his wine in 1933 to Rotterdam in Holland.”

  “Did Etán also study in France?”

  “Oh yes. He first obtained a degree in Agricultural Engineering from the University of Chile and then lived in France for a few years, until he got his Master’s degree in Enology from the University of Bordeaux.”

  “You must be very proud.”

  “Yes, we are proud of Etán. His wine has been awarded first place four times in international tastings during the last six years. Pedro’s father was worried the family trade was going to be lost when Pedro decided to go to medical school, but we always knew Etán would take over where his grandfather left off. You know, his Valdevieso is still called the first new Chilean superstar wine.”

  “Wow.” So, Etán made superstar wines. “All the grapes for these ... cultivars you mentioned are grown here?”

  “Hardly. What you see here is only one-hundred-and-thirty-six hectares. We had to obtain land in the valleys of Colchagua and Casablanca to grow some other varieties when Etán decided to expand. He is quite passionate about it all. I’m sure he’d love to bore you to death, if you’re interested. I, on the other hand, believe I’ve bored you enough.”

  “On the contrary, I find it very interesting.” Zenna looked around. “How lucky you are to have a beautiful home like this.”

  “Indeed. We only ever come here on weekends because of Pedro’s work. It’s a pity, though. The city takes it toll on him. Especially the long hours, and the traffic.” She shrugged. “Still, he loves his work.”

  Ana had told Zenna when they had first met that Pedro was a lung specialist at a prestigious private clinic in Santiago. What Ana had not mentioned, was her husband was considered the best lung specialist on the continent. At sixty-five, he was also one of the most respected senators in the National Congress. Marcos, who loved gossip, especially celebrity gossip, had also told her it was a well-known fact Ana and Pedro’s respective families had played significant roles in the most important cultural, social, and political events of the country. Between their lines of ancestors, the country had received four of its presidents of the republic, several diplomats, writers, and industrialists.