CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country)

by J Gordon Smith

  Lydia came closer, her pager filling her hand and waved it all around in the air. “Did you get all the kid’s homework done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even the reading assignment?”

  “Yes. And even the one for the weekend.”

  “I saw this folder in Grace’s backpack and it looks like you never touched it.”

  “Look at the sign-off sheet,” Zack stood.

  Lydia rummaged through the sheets in the folder, “Oh.” Then she asked, “Did you get that email I sent and get it taken care of?”

  “The teachers are not up for chit chatting after the bell lets the kids out. It’s easier to get them in the morning.”

  Lydia saw the laptop LED blinking softly as a reminder that it ran from battery and not the wall plug, “Have you just been sitting on your ass the whole time I was gone? Did you get the laundry done?”

  Zack took a breath, “It’s called work. You sit and run the email and phone on a Friday night too.”

  “I’m out of socks.”

  “There is a whole basket of socks in there.” Zack sat down and hit the television remote, “Are you just trying to fight about something?”

  “No. But if I don’t ask any questions nothing gets done around here.”

  “I see.” Zack flipped a few stations grumbling to himself, “Nothing but police shows after ten.” Then louder he asked, “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  “I already told you on Tuesday. I have shopping to do. We have gifts to get for my mother’s birthday. It would be good to have your help. I’m always the one doing the gift shopping.”

  “And I did all the grocery shopping yesterday.”

  “We’re still out of ham for the kids’ lunches.”

  “We’re fine. A big jar of peanut butter sits on the shelf and jelly is in the fridge.”

  “You’re always saying it’s fine. But it’s not all fine.”

  Zack said, “I might have a meeting Saturday for a couple of hours with the China and Mexico teams to prepare for the Monday barrage at the customer assembly plant.”

  “Shit, what do you mean “might”? I can’t believe it; you know how many weekends we’ve messed up waiting for your meetings?”

  “What about you? You’ve got that pager strapped to your hip and we have to drop everything whenever that stupid thing goes off.”

  “That’s my job – a job that pays for all this stuff we have. Not dilly-dallying around like you do.”

  “Hey, I’m taking care of the kids and working what is basically a full-time job. And you know, when I was working full-time at the office and you were in school – which I was paying for – I didn’t and wouldn’t talk like that.”

  “Dammit, I wasn’t just in school. I was in training and making money!”

  “– less than I am now and I’m taking care of the kids.” Zack opened his computer and logged back in, “I have some work to get done so we can afford that Water Park vacation you want to take the kids on this summer.”

  “Fuck you.” Lydia banged her feet across the floor and into the bedroom. Her middle finger jabbed the air in her wake.

  “And when will that be?”

  Lydia pounded the floor in the bedroom with her heels and growled out a rage-filled shriek.

  Chapter 2

  January

  Zack watched Samantha cross the room to a cluster of investors gathered in the hallway that lead to the banquette rooms. She sauntered as if the whole world watched her and wanted her. Zack peered around and saw they generally did. He tried to remember what she did outside the winery. Photography – a studio in Los Angeles providing stills for web and magazine advertisements. Her husband worked as a graphic artist in the studio she set up. He looked like a squat frog of a man in a loud Hawaiian print shirt that hung over him like a tarp with a neck hole dressed up with a thick gold chain and pudgy rings on nearly every finger. Her husband looked like the kind of person that Zack wondered what brought them together. He watched Samantha playfully interact with one of the physicians and a movie studio mid-level manager that were part of the group. Zack swirled the wine in his glass and smelled the pepper and cranberries.

  “All set,” Rutger said.

  “Homework?” Zack smiled, turning to Rutger.

  “Yes. Researching the rules for importing wine to England. Shouldn’t be too difficult since England imports so much wine.”

  “They import so much because the British are wealthy, by world standards?”

  Rutger said, “I know a lot of people that struggle. In general, there is more wealth in England plus the general European interest in wine. Then England is more egalitarian with wine choices compared with France – still dubious of American wines.”

  Zack nodded, “Hidden behind the Regional Appellations and Varietal labeling differences.”

  “All these fancy New World wine regions like the States, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa –”

  “– And Chile and Argentina.”

  “Yeah, a lot of places.” Rutger took a sip of his wine.

  “I’ve seen where French and Spanish wines are getting away from the region and focusing on the grape variety like everyone else, so they compete better with consumers.” Zack’s phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the display, “Sorry Rutger, I should take this – the wife.” He pushed out onto the lighted patio before the ringing stopped and answered the call. He noticed the noise level was not any better and started wandering down the walkway toward the eastern wing of the winery structure. A single lamp lit him from over head. “Hi Lydia. What’s up?”

  “Hey, I just wanted to call and tell you I got promoted at work.”

  “That’s great. Master Of The Universe now?”

  “Yeah, right. No. I’m in charge of the whole trucking release division and the maintenance crews. That will be the toughest part. Those guys are gruff and won’t like being lead by a woman.”

  “They’ll be fine. Just go down to the garage a few times and have them explain how their repairs are done and find out what the usual frustrations are getting trucks in and out with catalog part order chasing. I’ll bet you’ll make some quick friends if you can figure out how to help them through a few of those hurdles.”

  “It’s a little more salary too.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Yeah. But mostly prestige.”

  Zack said, “Oh, you know what that means.”

  “What?”

  “That is code for more work. They just retired a guy from that department didn’t they, mid fifties?”

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “Remember – I worked in that kind of environment.”

  Lydia said, “You think you know everything.”

  “Well, they convinced the fifties-guy to take an early retirement. They combine his job with yours, give you a ten percent bump, and save ninety percent of his salary. A good deal for them.”

  “Well, Nicholas said it was a huge promotion.”

  “It is. Who is Nicholas again?”

  “Oh … He’s in charge of the website group and all the information technology systems we use to bar code and inventory and communicate with suppliers and customer destinations.”

  “He has plans on your new job to improve the maintenance department?”

  “I was thinking he could help.”

  “You’ll do fine in the new job. It’s a good thing.”

  “How’s the winery?”

  “Nice. We had the first meeting, still looking at a capital call next year, smaller than last year though.”

  Lydia’s voice wound up, “You’ll suck up my whole promotion bump with that thing.”

  “There are good projects going on. Certainly getting traction is slow and any new business is hard. No overnight successes even if you think otherwise.”

  “What about all those San Francisco web and technology companies?”

  “Glamor. A busted crew of cast off entreprene
urs. A few work hard enough to get lucky and make it.”

  “So you’re telling me you have more work?”

  “Always more work.”

  “You do your thing and I’ll see you back Sunday, right?”

  “That’s what the plane ticket says.”

  “I should go – it’s late here. Bye.” Lydia hung up.

  Zack stood under the electric light that fluttered like a candle flame illuminating the night over the vineyard. He was glad for Lydia’s promotion but wondered where they were going. Fights all the time. He looked back to the patio and saw Rutger joking with Samantha who had one arm slipped through her husband’s arm and around his waist. She played with Hollywood’s and Los Angeles’ most beautiful models every day and appeared they were quite loyal and loved each other.

  Zack reached into his pocket, brought out his wallet, and flipped through the pictures of his children. These were the reason to stick things out for better or for worse. When would things get to the better side again? The stress of taking care of the kids, making sure they had everything they needed to enjoy their childhood and grow up to be successful young adults. While he juggled a part-time but really a full-time job, and a wife whom often seemed to hate him, despise him, be annoyed with him, and hold serious contempt for him. He put his wallet away.

  “There he is!”

  “Hi, Rutger.”

  “Hey, I see you checking your wallet. I’ll buy you that next round, don’t worry about the cost.”

  “Martin is pouring at the bar still.”

  “That’s why, old man,” Rutger grinned.

  “I was looking at my kids’ pictures.”

  “Your kids?” Rutger slapped Zack’s shoulder.

  “I hope so.”

  “Pull them back out. Let’s see the little rascals.”

  “This is last fall. The older one is Noah and the younger is Grace. Six and five.”

  Rutger pushed his glasses up his nose, “Cute kids. Splitting images of you. You’ll have to set up a moat around the house to keep the girls and boys out.”

  “Maybe. You have any kids?”

  “Me? No. Haven’t found that lucky girl that me Mum accepts yet.”

  “You live with your mother?”

  “No. She likes to tell me her opinion. And they get her opinion too – so I have to be careful when I show anyone around the family at holiday.”

  “– I see.”

  “Hey, the reason I was looking for you. Martin and the others on the management council are looking to cut costs by getting the investors more involved in the vineyards and winery. Manage some areas or do physical work. What do you think about some sort of rotation?”

  “I’ve got those kids to get back and forth to school. Plus the job.”

  “That’s what most of the investors are caught in too. It makes the most sense for local investors, but many of the others are interested in only throwing another capital call.”

  “Since they can afford the big shares.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s how I got hooked into the England project. I might even try setting up a distributorship or pairing with a local distributor company once I get the rules figured out.”

  “How would this plan of Martin’s work?”

  Rutger took a sip of his wine, “Some sort of volunteer rotation.”

  “Are we being credited with capital call value for hours worked or something?”

  “Something like that. We’re brainstorming how to utilize the investor group this year. Some have skills like they work in the music industry making soundtracks for movies and advertising.”

  “Or Samantha can photograph models for the advertising?”

  “Yeah, like that.”

  “I think it’s a good idea but I’ll have a fight with the wife about it. I know my mother-in-law doesn’t want anything to do with regular kids watching. Retired from never having a job and doesn’t want a job babysitting her grandkids.” Zack raised his eyes from the stone walkway, “Sorry. I rolled into an old argument with my wife. Too much thinking out loud.”

  “I know it.”

  “I could actually schedule some work and do it out here as easily as from home – my job involves telecommuting.”

  “That’s a bonus. Martin will be contacting everyone when we all get back home and in a regular life to see how individuals can manage it.”

  Zack said, “You know, it won’t be entirely bad because I could learn from the experts we’ve hired to care for the vineyard and make the wine. It could actually be fun.”

  “See, it’s not such a bad thing once you start working through how to actually do it – begin looking at it as an adventure.” Rutger walked with Zack back to the patio, “Hey, I just want to warn you. Philip Gangli is angry and he’s yanking everyone he can get to put this volunteer thing down, asking why not make a bigger capital call and hire some people rather than investors to work. Others are arguing that the recession is sapping the smaller investors of their available funds. He also wants to rip out all the red wines and become a white wine only winery so we don’t have to invest in French and American oak barrels to age the wine in. We can practically sell wine as soon as it’s fermented. Then he wants sparkling wine too, but that part is smart because it pairs well with the wedding side of the business.”

  Zack said, “I heard the product mix concern floating around too. Demographics favor having a few whites – especially for the younger shoppers we seem to be getting. However, red wines more easily sell at premium prices and the red wines forge much stronger winery brands. ”

  “That’s my idea too. We need a few whites but the focus should be red wines. Philip is being aggressive and creating angst between several investor cliques. He is even suggesting replacing Martin to get others running the show.”

  Chapter 3

  Zack’s email blinked at him. Gone for two work days at the investor meeting, “How can I have this many unread emails?” He started from the top and worked his way down. Most of the communications expanded around that shipment and inventory issue. Zack took care of the ones he could and sent questions out to the team to find data and answers their customer demanded. Then Zack saw an email from Harold Rice, his supervisor that started out fine but picked at being away on his trip. Zack double checked and found his email and his call logs informing Harold of his impending personal trip. Harold mentioned Zack’s investment with quotes around it. A few other references that escalated in tone and indicated Harold had some problem with his being gone for two days.

  “Hey, Harold,” Zack said on the phone.

  “Oh. Hi, Zack.”

  “I was catching up on my emails from the weekend and I saw a few that looked like you were getting alarmed. I had sent you notice of the two vacation days I needed to take and I had coverage for any emergency issues –”

  “No problem Zack. I was getting buffeted by a few other issues and people and … it’s all good now,” Harold tapped his pen on his desk in the background. “How did things go?”

  “Good. Weather out there sure beats this January cold. Nearly froze my fingers off scraping the car this morning.”

  “But you’re working from your home office?”

  “The kids. We are inside the school district travel zone so I have to drop them off at school, especially in this kind of weather.”

  “Yeah. That’s good. My wife takes ours in, but the kids want her to drop them off at the corner so their friends don’t see her.”

  “Luckily mine haven’t gotten old enough for that yet.”

  “I can only laugh because I know what is ahead of you. You’ll have to tell me how that investment is going sometime.”

  “Anytime. But there’s not much to say, still have a capital call this year.”

  “Must be nice to be able to consider such an investment though …” Harold’s phone ruffled as if he covered the handset with his palm to take care of someone at his desk, “… I have to go. Jerry is in trouble with som
e test or something.”

  “Thanks, Harold.”

  “Sure. Bye.”

  Zack stared at his computer screen not sure what to make of the conversation nor the emails.

  He took care of the rest of the email pile, updated his time-lines, sent out requests for data, and worked up a few spreadsheets and the presentation deck for a conference call scheduled in two days.

  Later that afternoon Zack sat on the couch paying bills. The sun had set lonely and cold at the horizon. An impossibly small dot with no brightening of the frigid sky. Bleak snow shifted under the shivering winds like thin ice crystal ghosts chasing across the dead grass and rushing against the wiggling evergreen branches.

  “We could direct-pay those,” Lydia said as she lounged on the couch under a blanket. The television droned on with a flat sit-com. “And we wouldn’t have to worry about a late credit card bill.”

  “But we still need to make sure enough money is in the account.”

  “When has there not been? Even when it was just you working. I’d do it but I can’t figure out your filing system.”

  Zack looked down the cryptic list of purchases on the credit card bill. “What is this Langton Hotel?”

  Lydia pulled the blanket tighter under her chin, “That’s from that conference I went to.”

  “Which conference?”

  “What’s the date on it?”

  “The seventeenth.”

  “That was the pre-holiday supplier show conference.

  “But it’s in town?”

  “No, it’s a small chain. The conference was in Toledo and I stayed there late, remember?”

  “ … Maybe. I’m not sure I remember.”

  “You forget a lot. We drove down and I wasn’t sure how late things would go or how much I might drink at the reception so I booked a room.”

  “That we have to pay for?”

  “You wouldn’t want me driving back if I needed the room.”

  “I remember you being back here. You were back late.”

  “I didn’t end up having all those drinks. The bar was more tightly controlled than prior years, due to the economy.”