The Winemakers

by Jan Moran

  “He’s in the wine business, too. In fact, I forgot that I have to call him right away. Forgive me for being abrupt, Anthony, but I need to go. And thank you for the tickets.”

  “I’ll have my secretary call you later with your travel itinerary.” He hesitated. “Caterina?”

  “Yes?”

  “Your husband is one lucky man. If he ever changes his mind—”

  “Why, thank you, Anthony.” The nerve of this man. He was clearly emboldened by the distance, unlike the day he’d visited Mille Étoiles. “But for your wife’s sake, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  After she hung up, she shook her head. Men. Were they all alike? Maybe her mother was right. She opened the door of the phone booth and wove through throngs of hotel guests on her way back to her office.

  She had so much to think about. She hadn’t had a chance to read the entire legal document—besides, it was in Italian—but she trusted that everything was in order. Excitement sparked through her. We’re going to Italy.

  Her excitement was quickly replaced by a wave of trepidation. It would be a long journey for a baby, and she’d have to learn how to care for Marisa without Faith as her crutch.

  Another thought struck her. After her father died, her mother had raised her. Ava had also been a mother alone in a foreign country. She had help from Nina around the house, but she’d also had the responsibility of running a business. Caterina considered the stress her mother must have been under, although it didn’t negate the fact that Ava’s temper had been out of control for years.

  Nor that she thought Caterina should give up Marisa for adoption. How could Ava, of all people, suggest that?

  Caterina turned her thoughts to the next item on her task list. Straightening her jacket, she marched into her boss’s office to quit the job she’d fought so hard to get.

  * * *

  Over the next few days, Caterina split her time between caring for Marisa and preparing for their departure. She arranged her finances, and packed what she thought they might need for the trip.

  Their journey was about to begin.

  When the day of departure arrived, Caterina was filled with a mixture of elation and anxiety. A knock sounded at the door. “I’ll get it—that’s Juliana.” Faith was in the kitchen, and Patrick was bringing her suitcases downstairs.

  Caterina opened the door, and Juliana flung her arms around her. “Hello, world traveler! What an adventure you’ll have. And how is my precious little girl?” She knelt to kiss Marisa, who was dressed in a navy-blue dress and jacket for traveling. “Marisa, you get prettier every day. Look at those gorgeous blue eyes.”

  Caterina smiled wistfully. “She has Santo’s eyes, doesn’t she? It was so difficult seeing him again.” Glancing into the hallway mirror, she pinned on a small burgundy felt hat that matched her gray-and-burgundy traveling suit.

  Behind her, Juliana dipped her head and cast her eyes down.

  Caterina caught Juliana’s reaction in the mirror. She swung around. “Jules, I know you called Santo.”

  Juliana sighed. “I’d hoped you might have a chance to talk to him. You and Santo have always had a thing for each other. I can see it in your eyes—and his. Whenever the three of us were together, every time you entered the room, Santo only looked at you.”

  Caterina was still hurt. “I specifically asked you not to tell him anything.”

  “And I didn’t, but I couldn’t stand to see you marry Ted. When my mother told me what Ava was planning, I panicked and called Santo.”

  Caterina put a hand on Juliana’s arm. She couldn’t be angry at her dearest friend, not now as she was leaving the country. “I understand why you did it, but nothing has changed between Santo and me. He’s still engaged. You can’t tell him anything. Promise me. I’ll tell him when the time is right, but it’s not now.”

  “I promise. I’m really sorry.”

  “And a shotgun wedding is the last thing I’d ever want.” Caterina hugged her, and they both had tears in their eyes.

  Juliana sighed longingly. “I’d love to go with you. I want to travel, see the world, live—really live. Once you get married, life changes.” She blinked her large brown eyes. “Can I tell you a secret? I don’t know if I ever want to get married. I like being free. Look at your mother. She’s run Mille Étoiles for more than two decades. She could’ve remarried, but she didn’t. Hell, when our moms were our age, they couldn’t even vote.” She managed a sad smile. “I’ll miss you, Cat.”

  “You’ll come see us.”

  Juliana nodded, her expression solemn. “Funny how life works out, huh?”

  Caterina touched Juliana’s shoulder. “Sure is. What if you visit and meet some amazing Italian man?”

  “Even worse. You know how possessive they are.”

  “No. I don’t.” She spat out her words. Santo had left her without a word, even if it was at her mother’s command.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Caterina waved it off, but her nerves were still raw. “It’s time to go.” They walked to the car. Marisa was taking tentative steps now. Caterina held both her hands, guiding her in front of her to the car.

  “Walk, walk,” Marisa said, though her new words sounded more like wok-wok. Caterina smiled and thought about the Italian words she might soon learn, too. Marisa didn’t have many words yet, but she was certainly communicating with gusto.

  Patrick carried her suitcases, along with the Mille Étoiles ’53 cabernet bottles she’d grabbed on her way out. Faith and Patrick hugged her and wished her a safe flight, and Caterina saw tears in their eyes. They’d been so important to her this last year and a half. She promised them she’d write and send photos.

  She got into Juliana’s car, which was an older Chevrolet with wide bench seats. Caterina buckled her seat belt and held Marisa tightly on her lap. “They should make safer arrangements for babies and little children in cars.”

  “Probably will someday.” Juliana steered through traffic. “I’m glad Raphael installed seat belts in all our cars. I really do feel safer.” She inclined her head toward her purse. “If you look in the side pocket, you’ll find my notes from Gilbert Waters about the wine competition in Paris. It’s being held at the Ritz, and you should go if you can, even though you said you weren’t going to enter Mille Étoiles wines.”

  Caterina scanned the notes that Juliana had prepared for her after her conversation with the magazine editor. She folded the paper and tucked it securely in her handbag. She wished she’d had time to prepare for the event, but she’d been so rushed since she’d decided to go to Italy.

  They turned into the airport. Caterina hailed a porter to take their luggage, and then they made their way into the airport.

  “Are you nervous?” Juliana asked. They stood inside the terminal waiting for Caterina’s flight to be called. The rumble of airplanes landing and taking off filled the air, punctuated by loudspeaker announcements.

  “I’ve gone way beyond that, Jules. I’m petrified.” Caterina glanced at other well-dressed passengers, who seemed calm and sophisticated, and she tried to emulate their demeanor. The men wore suits, and the women looked like they’d stepped from the pages of Vogue magazine.

  “I’m so jealous. I wish I could go with you.” Juliana reached into her handbag and handed her a small leather-bound photo book. “Here, I made this for you. I thought you might want to share your American life with your new relatives.”

  Caterina flipped through the photographs. All the people she loved were there. Her mother, Juliana, Nina, Raphael … and Santo. Even Vino. And Mille Étoiles, and their best wines. She said quietly, “We really did have a good life, didn’t we?”

  “We have a wonderful American family, even if we’re not all related. Don’t forget, I’m coming to visit you as soon as I can.” Juliana hugged her again.

  The two women clung to each other with tears in their eyes. Juliana brushed moisture from her cheek. “Want me to wait
to see you off from the gate? I can park the car.”

  “No, you go ahead.” Caterina didn’t know how many more times she could say good-bye to those she loved. Except for her mother, who through Nina wasn’t taking or returning her calls. Caterina regretted her mistakes, but she could only move forward now. She glanced at Marisa, who clasped her hand tightly. At least she wouldn’t be saying good-bye to her daughter.

  After Juliana left, Caterina lifted Marisa, shifted her onto her hip, and walked farther into the terminal. She sat near a large window where they could watch the planes taxi along the runway. She smoothed her light-gray twill traveling suit, which was edged in burgundy piping, and balanced Marisa on her lap. She checked her watch. Two minutes had passed since the last time she’d checked it.

  A sleek airplane emblazoned with the logo for Pan American World Airways stretched before her. Four propellers shimmered in the morning sunlight. “What a beauty,” she said to Marisa. “I wonder if that’s our plane.”

  A dark-haired man seated in back of her turned toward her. “It is if you’re going to Roma,” he said with a slight Italian accent that reminded her of Santo’s. “It’s a Boeing 377 Stratocruiser. A real luxury aircraft. San Francisco, New York City, Roma. Viaggio sicuro.”

  Caterina thanked him, and he tipped his hat. When an announcement crackled through the air a few minutes later, the man said, “That’s our flight. Ready to board the Clipper?” He picked up a small leather cabin bag. “Shall I carry yours, too?”

  “That’s kind of you.” A surge of nervous excitement sparked through her.

  A smiling stewardess escorted them to their seats. The man sat down a few rows behind her. She settled into a plush seat, clutched Marisa on her lap, and peered out the window at the propellers.

  The stewardess stopped by her aisle. “Champagne?”

  “Oh, thank you,” Caterina breathed.

  The woman in the smart uniform handed her a glass. “First flight?” she whispered.

  “Can you tell?” Caterina sipped from the glass. She raised her brow in approval. It was a fine French vintage.

  “You’re a little pale,” the woman said kindly. “Relax. We’ll be fine.”

  Caterina smiled back at her, but when the plane taxied and took off, her stomach did flip-flops. Marisa was curious, gazing at everything. As the plane climbed in the sky, Marisa began to whimper and cry.

  Caterina rocked her in her lap to calm her. She took out a bottle of milk, and Marisa snuggled against her, sucking her bottle with trepidation, her eyes wide at the new experience of flight.

  Feeling the vibration and hearing the roar of the engines, Caterina stared from the window. She watched San Francisco grow smaller in the distance.

  She let out her breath. She’d done it. They were actually on their way. She had Marisa, and she’d left her troubles far behind. Or so she hoped.

  * * *

  They changed planes in New York, where Marisa threw a fit while they were waiting in the airport. She was wailing and screaming at the top of her lungs, and Caterina was so frustrated. It seemed there was nothing she could do to quiet her. What would Faith have done?

  At last an older woman came to her rescue. “Mind if I say hello to her? I’m a grandmother of eight. Sometimes they like to see a new face.” In a few minutes, the woman helped her calm Marisa by diverting her attention to the planes outside.

  “I don’t know why she’s cranky.” Caterina brushed wisps of hair from her flushed face. Their carefully pressed outfits were wrinkled, and Caterina’s hat was askew. “She’s usually better than this.”

  “Judging by the amount of drooling, she’s probably teething,” the gray-haired woman said.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Caterina wished Faith were around.

  “I can give you a little break. May I hold her?”

  Caterina relinquished Marisa. This was more difficult than she’d imagined; she felt frustrated and overwhelmed. Had she made a mistake in bringing Marisa here and thinking that she could do this on her own?

  The older woman took Marisa in her lap and rocked her while Caterina straightened her hat. “When you’re at home, dear, give the child a cold washcloth to gnaw on; it will feel good on her gums. She’ll probably like frozen banana slices, too.”

  As they chatted, the woman’s gaze dropped to Caterina’s left hand, and she frowned. “Aren’t you married, dear?”

  Caterina was too tired to argue. “Imagine, I lost my ring. My husband has another one waiting for me in Italy.”

  The woman looked skeptical. “Really? What’s his name?”

  “My husband’s name? Why, it’s … ah—”

  “You’re not married, are you?” The woman narrowed her eyes and scanned Caterina from head to toe, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

  Caterina bristled. “Why should it matter to you?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “I’m appalled you even have to ask. You’ve committed a grave sin. I can’t be seen in public with someone like you. People know me.” She held Marisa out as if she were dirty. “Take her back,” she said tersely before she got up and stalked away.

  Two other women standing in front of Caterina turned withering looks toward her. She rocked Marisa and stared straight ahead. She would not be intimidated by strangers.

  Soon they were called to board their next flight. After the plane climbed to cruising altitude across the Atlantic Ocean, dinner was served and Caterina began to relax. Later, Marisa began fussing again. Caterina let her chew on a rubber bottle nipple until her daughter finally fell into an exhausted slumber in her lap.

  Caterina didn’t dare to jostle Marisa. Instead, she stared from the window over an endless sea below and thought about the day Santo had disappeared from her life. His actions had always baffled her and cut deep into her soul.

  She had replayed that day countless times in her mind. Since Santo’s revelation in the cave, it now made more sense. As she recalled, after they’d made love that fateful night, she had slept late the next day. But when she awoke, he was gone.

  “Where’s Santo?” she had asked Raphael.

  “He’s gone back to school.”

  Santo went to college in Davis, a town about an hour away. It might as well have been on the other side of the earth. She couldn’t understand why he’d left so suddenly.

  Later that day over dinner, her mother said, “We’ll miss Santo, won’t we? He probably raced back to be with his girlfriend. I heard him talking to one of the field hands before he left. Seems our Santo is engaged. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Caterina struggled to conceal her shock. It can’t be, she told herself, confused and hurt over what had transpired between them. Their lovemaking had bonded their bodies and souls; how could he possibly be in love with another?

  After dinner she’d frantically tried to call him, but he didn’t answer his telephone. That night she didn’t sleep at all. She cried in agony until the sun pierced the curtains in her bedroom. When she rose, she splashed cold water on her burning face. She blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and her face was splotchy. Unable to face the harsh light of day, she burrowed under her bedcovers and stayed in her room all day, feigning illness.

  The following day, she returned to the university in San Francisco as planned to begin her final year. She tried to call Santo again, but there was still no answer. She’d committed the most heinous of sins, and he was her partner in this crime. Where was he?

  She didn’t regret that they’d made love. But how could he have left without a word?

  She’d been utterly devastated.

  Now, as Caterina stared out the window over the Atlantic Ocean, everything fell perfectly, horribly into place.

  Ava had indeed denied Santo permission to marry Caterina.

  Because of her mother’s rigid moral stance, the only person Caterina could share her sad story with was Juliana, who was going through a tragedy of her own.

  However, Santo
seemed to bounce back quickly. Her mother might have squelched his plan, but by the time he left, he’d already decided to marry another. Probably the blond girl she’d seen him with once in Napa, she decided, disgusted and perturbed.

  Was that the fickle sort of man she’d want to spend her life with? Thankful to have left the disaster behind, she closed her eyes and drifted off to the steady hum of the engines, though her sleep was troubled.

  She and Marisa woke when the wheels scudded against the tarmac in Rome. Caterina waited until everyone else had disembarked.

  After seeing others walk down the aisle, Marisa fussed over being carried, so Caterina held Marisa’s hands in hers and let her walk in front of her for a little bit, taking care to maintain her little girl’s balance. The stewardesses exclaimed over her child. Caterina was so proud; Marisa would be walking on her own soon. When Marisa grew tired, Caterina picked her up to continue. She walked out of the cabin and down the steps. A stewardess followed, carrying the wine she’d brought. “This must be good,” the woman remarked.

  “The best,” Caterina replied, and she thanked her for her help.

  They entered the terminal, where a driver in a dark suit met them. “Signora Rosetta? I’ll take your luggage. Follow me, per favore.”

  Signora. This time, Caterina let him think she was married. They walked through the airport. They passed cafés, where pastries and steaming cups of cappuccino smelled absolutely wonderful.

  She wished they had more time to spend in Rome, but she respected the time schedule the investigator’s secretary had constructed for them. She slid into the car and asked, “How far is it to Montalcino?”

  “Two hundred kilometers,” the driver said. “About three hours, more or less. First time in Italy?” When she told him it was, the driver nodded. “I meet many Italians from America. We have time to drive past the Colosseum and a few other important sights if you’d like. Are you hungry? And the baby?”

  It was as if he’d read her mind. “We have to eat, and I’d love a cappuccino,” she said with a yawn. Though she’d slept on the airplane, it had been a light sleep, and she’d felt every bit of turbulence. The driver suggested a nearby café.