Between the Vines

by Tricia Stringer

  “Coona-what?”

  “Coonawarra. It’s a small town and the name of our wine region.”

  She raised her glass. “Do you make sauvignon blanc?”

  “We do, but our chardonnay is our winery’s best white. It’s won two medals.”

  “Oh, that sounds good. I like chardy. Pity I can’t try some of yours.”

  “I have some back in my hotel.”

  “Do you now? Was that the same place you were suggesting I went with you late last night?”

  “No, that was the hotel bar.” Edward’s smile widened. “The chardonnay is in the fridge in my room.”

  Even though he couldn’t see her eyes, her lips twitched. She took another sip from her glass then traced her long elegant fingers around the rim.

  “I think I’m going to need some food soon,” she said. “I didn’t get time for lunch.”

  “Where’s the best place to eat?” Things were looking up. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a fizzer after all. “Let me take you out for dinner.”

  She leaned in closer and looked over the top of her glasses. This time he could see a glint in her eye. “The chef here has some interesting dishes. I’ll pick the food, you pick the wine. Let’s see where that takes us, shall we?”

  Edward chuckled, a deep throaty laugh.

  Several hours later he regretted his decision. They’d moved on to a club where Heidi had been all over him as they danced. That went on for a while. Now he was alone. She was out on the dance floor gyrating with several other women. Heidi was a player but he’d tired of the game. She was planning on going back to the hotel with him but he found himself no longer wanting what she was so clearly offering. It had been a long day. He slid from the booth and left.

  The alarm sounded on Edward’s phone. He groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. He was still tired. Added to that was his annoyance that this trip to Sydney hadn’t brought the meetings with connections he’d hoped to make. He’d been to a dinner where he presented his wines to a group of top Sydney sommeliers. These men were the gatekeepers for the wine that made it to the tables of their fancy restaurants. He had been hopeful of at least getting Wriggly Creek chardonnay accepted or their reserve cabernet sauvignon, but no such luck. They’d been more interested in a group of natural winemakers and their orange wine which was a new trend. One guy had said he played music to his wine while it fermented. The sommeliers went wild over that. Personally Edward didn’t get it. He’d also had a meeting with Barry, their distributor, but there was nothing new there.

  He rolled onto his back and tossed the pillow away. A night with Heidi may have made it all worthwhile but he’d never know now. Perhaps he was losing it. He’d rarely knocked back the chance to bed a woman before, especially away from home with no strings attached. After meeting Heidi that had been all he’d thought of but by the end of the second evening with her he was no longer interested.

  He’d been like that with Taylor as well, but she was different. She was hot but she hadn’t thrown herself at him like Heidi had. It was a pity Taylor hadn’t replied to his texts but once she got back to Adelaide she’d obviously decided not to keep in touch. He’d been surprised to find a missed call from her after his meeting two nights ago. It was unexpected and he’d been busy. Maybe he’d follow up on it when he returned to Wriggly Creek.

  He licked his lips. His mouth was as dry as a cockie’s cage. Edward prised himself from the bed and staggered into the bathroom. In the mirror his hair looked lank, his skin sallow and there were bags under his eyes. He needed water and a shower. He had his most important meeting coming up in Melbourne this afternoon, the reason for all the secrecy, and he didn’t want to be behind the eight ball before he started. With any luck his trip away wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

  By the time he got to his hotel in Melbourne, Edward was starting to lag again. It was a hot day, oppressive, not like the weather he’d left behind in Sydney. His phone rang. The name on the screen brought a scowl to his face. Heidi. He must have been drunk to exchange phone numbers. He let it go to voicemail. The bag he’d brought with him lay open on the end of his bed. He pulled out a clean shirt, shook it out and cursed. He’d have to iron it.

  He had a strange sensation in his stomach. Nerves? He rarely felt nervous but he was certainly on edge. So much rode on this meeting. If Wriggly Creek was to survive they needed to expand. He had his eye on some vineyards north of Coonawarra but without a backer he didn’t have the capital to go ahead. His few attempts to discuss this with Peter had failed. His brother wanted to keep doing things the same old way. He didn’t worry about the money. He was happy to leave that stress to Edward. They had all their eggs in one basket and that wasn’t good business.

  The iron snagged on a button. Edward reached to smooth the shirt and brushed the tip of the iron with his finger. The sudden pain only increased his irritation. He stuck his finger in his mouth and felt sweat trickle down his back. He looked at his watch. Damn. There was no time for another shower, just a quick freshen-up before he met with Mr Cheng and his employer, Mr Zhu.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Taylor wiped the top of the bar again and made sure all the folders listing Wriggly Creek wines were straight. She glanced behind her, willing Peter to appear through the back entrance before the group of men she’d just seen pull up out the front made it inside the cellar door. There was no sign of him. He’d said he wouldn’t be long, but something had happened in the sheds that required his attention.

  Yesterday he hadn’t left her side all afternoon. His cellar door manager, Noelene, hadn’t turned up. She’d sent a late text to say she had an abscess and would need another day at home. There was a friend, Ben, who helped out but he couldn’t come either and their office manager was away sick. With nothing else to do Taylor had offered to stay and help in the cellar door again.

  She didn’t understand half of what Peter said but he was obviously passionate about his wine. Observing him, working alongside him, listening to him talk to customers – it had all piqued her interest. She was actually enjoying the experience.

  They’d been busy for a couple of hours but it was late afternoon and the cellar door had been empty for a while. This group would probably be the last for the day.

  Taylor glanced at the typed sheet she had on her side of the bar. Just use the tasting notes Peter had said. That’s how the others who worked in the cellar door learned. She hoped she could sell some wine without his help. She looked up and smiled as the men came in.

  “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said. “Are you all tasting today?”

  “We have a meeting.” The first man through the door spoke for them all. He was tall with gingery hair and freckles on his pale face, a sharp contrast to the other two who were shorter and of Chinese origin. They were neatly dressed in suits, like businessmen.

  Taylor looked back at the tall man. Did he mean they were having a meeting here or in a hurry to go to a meeting?

  “Where is Mr Starr?” he asked.

  “He’s been called away,” she said.

  The tall man looked at the first Chinese man who turned to the other and spoke in what Taylor assumed was Chinese.

  There was a quick exchange and then the first Chinese man spoke to her. “I am Mr Cheng. This is Mr Zhu.” The man beside him gave a deep nod. “Mr Zhu has a meeting with Mr Starr at four o’clock.”

  Taylor glanced at the clock on the wall. They got that part right. Peter hadn’t mentioned it but then he hadn’t expected to leave her on her own. She flicked a look behind her. There was no help there. She didn’t want to jeopardise any meeting Peter may have arranged. She took a calming breath.

  “Mr Starr had to step out for a moment. Something happened in the winery he had to sort out. He should be back soon.” She hoped she was right. “Perhaps we could start the tasting while you wait?”

  The two Chinese men nodded and smiled. Taylor set up three glasses on the bar.

  “Would you lik
e to start with the whites?” she asked.

  “We prefer the reds,” the tall man said. He hadn’t introduced himself.

  Mr Cheng spoke to Mr Zhu who nodded.

  “We will begin with the whites,” Mr Cheng said firmly, ignoring the man on his other side.

  Taylor took a bottle of riesling from the fridge. She noticed a slight tremor of her hand. How ridiculous. She could nail this. She glanced at the tasting notes, took a deep breath and began to speak as she poured.

  “This riesling has aromas of citrus blossom and lemon zest.” She glanced back at the notes. “With a touch of minerality.” Whatever that meant. “And flavours of lemon sherbet and granny smith apple, a hint of chalkiness…”

  The men looked at her expectantly.

  “Frames the end.” Taylor hoped her smile would cover up any jumbled words.

  They picked up their glasses. While the tall man was all about sniffing and sipping and spitting into the barrel designed as a spittoon, the two Chinese men simply swallowed the wine and sat their glasses back on the bar. They both smiled and nodded at her.

  She reached for the next white, skimmed a look over the notes and poured.

  “Our sauvignon blanc grapes come from the cooler, maritime climate at Mount Benson. This wine was produced after a cold winter and a mild spring which produces the best sauvignon blanc.” She paused. Once more the tall man was sticking his nose in the glass while the other two simply smiled and swallowed. “Er, you might notice, er–” she glanced down, “–melon, passionfruit and gooseberry…it’s clean and crisp with a bright zippy finish.” The last words came out in a rush as the two Chinese men placed their glasses on the bar and smiled.

  Where was Peter? She felt so out of her depth. The chardonnay was next and then the sparkling shiraz. She worked her way through the wine list, providing a more and more garbled rendition of the tasting notes. By the end she was making it up. At least Mr Zhu couldn’t understand her and Mr Cheng’s English was a little stilted, but she had noticed the other man raise his eyebrows once or twice when she’d stumbled over her words.

  By the time they had tried the shiraz and the cabernet sauvignon, Mr Zhu and Mr Cheng were very merry and tall guy very serious.

  “Can’t you call Mr Starr?” he asked her. “I have to drive Mr Zhu back to Melbourne tonight.”

  “Tonight?” That would explain the spitting.

  “It’s a five-hour trip.”

  Taylor looked around. Did she leave them here and walk up to the sheds looking for Peter? There was one more bottle of red sitting beside those already tasted. It had a different label and was a cabernet reserve, whatever that meant. Perhaps something special. She hoped so as she picked it up.

  “One more to taste,” she said. She flipped over the tasting notes. Nothing mentioned a reserve wine. This one had a cork instead of a screw cap. After some difficulty she tugged the cork from the bottle and poured. This time she noticed tall guy swallow instead of spit, although he didn’t down his glass as quickly as the other two.

  “I’ll take a dozen of these,” he said when he finished savouring the wine. “How much will that be?”

  Taylor’s mind went into a spin. “Excuse me a minute,” she said. “I’m only new here.” She sifted through all the tasting notes and lists she could find but nothing mentioned a reserve cabernet sauvignon. She found a box of them under the bar. There was one missing, no doubt the bottle she’d just opened. “I’ve only got eleven,” she said, lifting the box to the bar.

  Tall guy had his card out of his wallet. “That’s fine. How much?”

  Taylor did a quick calculation. The other cabernet sauvignon on the list was thirty dollars a bottle. Perhaps reserve meant special. If that was the case should she double it? She looked up at the man who was looking down his nose at her. He hadn’t been that polite. What did she care if he bought the wine or not?

  “It’s usually ninety dollars a bottle,” she said, “but as I only have eleven I can take ten dollars off the total.”

  He didn’t even blink. “Done.”

  Damn, Taylor thought, I should have asked for more. She hoped she was doing the right thing as she processed his credit card. Without Peter to help her she just had to make it up.

  “I’ll put these in the car,” the guy said to Mr Cheng.

  There was a clatter behind her and Peter burst into the room. His face was sweaty and he was puffing slightly as if he’d been running. His shirt was streaked with red.

  “Welcome back,” Taylor said with a smile. “Your guests have been waiting a while.”

  “Guests?”

  Peter looked at the two Chinese men on the other side of the bar and then to their companion as he came back through the door.

  “This is Mr Starr,” Taylor said.

  “About time,” murmured the tall guy.

  “Very pleased to meet you,” Mr Cheng said. “May I introduce the head of Zhu Trading, Mr Zhu.”

  Taylor noticed Peter wipe his red-stained hand down his jeans before he extended it over the counter. “Peter Starr,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  “No, no.” Mr Cheng shook his head vigorously. “We have a meeting with Mr Edward Starr.”

  Taylor stared at Peter who opened and closed his mouth.

  “Edward’s not here,” he said.

  Mr Cheng began speaking to Mr Zhu in Chinese.

  “What time do you expect him back?” tall guy asked.

  “And you are?” Peter said.

  “Frank Lister.” He stood up straight, making him a head taller than Peter. “I don’t know what kind of show your brother runs but Mr Zhu had a meeting with him at four pm today. We’ve driven from Melbourne especially and we have to drive back tonight so that Mr Zhu can catch his flight tomorrow morning.”

  “Look, are you sure the meeting was to take place here?” Peter asked.

  “Where is Mr Edward Starr?” Mr Cheng cut in. His voice was low but firm.

  “Well that’s just it. I’m fairly sure he’s in Melbourne for a meeting. I don’t know who with but–”

  Lister cut Peter off with a muttered burst of expletives.

  A pained expression crossed Mr Cheng’s face. He took a deep breath then pulled a thin smile to his lips and looked from Peter to Taylor. “There seems to be a mistake,” he said slowly and clearly. “I myself rang last week and spoke to the young woman.” He nodded at Taylor then turned back to Peter. “I told her Mr Zhu had found time to visit the winery in person. Instead of meeting Mr Starr in Melbourne we were to meet here.” He looked pointedly at Taylor.

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Taylor has only been here two days.” Peter defended her. “You must have spoken to someone else and the message wasn’t passed on. What were you meeting Edward about? He is the business manager but I am his brother and the winemaker here. Perhaps I can help?”

  Mr Cheng spoke to Mr Zhu and there were a lot of short words exchanged back and forth and head shaking before he turned back to Peter.

  “I am sorry but Mr Zhu’s business is only with Mr Edward Starr.”

  Pete pulled his mobile from his pocket. “I could try ringing him.”

  Once more Mr Cheng spoke to Mr Zhu. Mr Zhu shook his head emphatically.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mr Cheng said. “It was meant to be a meeting in person. We thank you for your hospitality, Miss Taylor.” Both Chinese men inclined their heads to her. Taylor fought the urge to laugh.

  Mr Cheng turned back to Peter. “We enjoyed your wine very much. You are a very good winemaker. Now we must go.” Both men inclined their heads again and turned on their heels.

  Lister leaned over the bar and spoke in a low voice to Peter. “Bad luck about your brother but good job with the last red.”

  “Last red?” Peter said to Lister’s back as he let himself out. He turned to Taylor. “Was that the shiraz or the cab sauv?”

  She chewed her bottom lip as she took in his puzzled expression. �
��Neither,” she said.

  He frowned.

  “I hope I haven’t done the wrong thing.” She held up the reserve bottle she’d opened. “I sold him this one.”

  Peter’s eyes widened. “That’s not on the tasting list.”

  “I know, but I was trying to stall for time. It was sitting on the bench, so I opened it.” She grinned. “That Lister guy really went for it.”

  “How many bottles did he buy?”

  “I could only find the box this one had come out of. He took the lot.”

  Peter ran his fingers through his short curls. “Eleven bottles?”

  “I’m sorry.” Taylor was worried by his reaction. “Was it the wrong thing to do?”

  “It’s all we had left of our best cabernet. I was keeping it for any of our weekend tasters who showed a special interest.”

  “I’m sorry,” Taylor said again.

  “Look, you weren’t to know. We’ll have a replacement bottled soon. Lister reckoned it was okay did he? I wasn’t going to try it tonight but now that you’ve opened it let’s give it a go.”

  He poured some of the wine into two glasses. Taylor stared at the glass he offered as if it would bite her.

  “It won’t keep.”

  She took the glass from him and watched while he swirled his and sniffed it like Lister had, then took a sip.

  Peter’s face lit up. “That is good, even if I do say so myself. Come on, try it.”

  Taylor took a small sip. The wine rolled around her tongue and left a smoky taste as she swallowed.

  Peter took another sip. “What do you think?”

  “It tastes fine to me but I’ve no idea about wine. I feel bad I sold your last box.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t have managed without your help so we’re even.”

  Taylor took another sip. The wine was smooth and the taste lingered after she swallowed. She could get used to it.

  Peter’s brow furrowed. “There was no price. How much did you sell it for?”

  Taylor set the half-drunk glass firmly on the bar. She’d quite enjoyed herself even though the whole experience with the three men had been stressful. Now she was a bit worried. She’d sold his best wine.