“I know what outsourcing is. You could do more of it and keep it in house.”
“I don’t have an engineering degree necessary for that work. And then I’m in that little office of mine longer through the evenings and weekends.”
“Your kids miss you. They want more of your time. And you don’t do their homework with them.”
“I’m in that office trying to make this part-time business flourish. Have you ever started up a business from scratch?”
“I do it all the time. I added a graphics department to our shipping business. Now all the product coming in through China has an American sounding logo with graphics and fancy packaging and our business makes a lot more money. It paid for itself in a couple of months.”
“Fine, you convinced customers you already had to pick up additional services and then you hired some people and tossed some chairs in a room and you have a business. That’s not a startup business. That’s an extension. You’re not investing any of your own money nor are you taking any risk. You have more than enough money to float the project along if any issues come up.”
“But there weren’t. Making money three days after our first hire.”
“That sounds a little like outsourcing.”
“No. We hired them in-house.”
“If you in-sourced it you would be doing the graphics work on the kitchen table.”
“The pay for that whole department is less than I make in a year. I can’t be spending my time sketching logos.” She pushed at the stack of mail, “But then who is taking care of this mail? Who is taking care of the kids? I don’t see you doing that.”
“Nothing like success to give you hubris about every other business out there. How many entrepreneurs fail when they switch industries? They exploited a lucky niche the first time and then blow up later with their second.”
“Like you have after quitting those jobs.”
“Jobs that wouldn’t pay for the rent on this house or your car that you desperately had to have. I remember all those fights that lasted for months.”
“We couldn’t have kept living in the crap hole house we started in.”
“Sure, completely functional plastic instead of granite kitchen counters. We had a very low house payment, nearly paid off by the time we moved, and no car payments. Our bank account really swelled then. The money I made from my part-time business could have paid the rest of that house off but instead we poured that into the down payment on the next big mansion.”
“But I was making more money and we could afford nice things.”
“Now we are in a house and have other bills that my current business cannot afford.”
Lydia said, “Which brings us back to: I’m forced to keep working.”
“You wanted that festering house –”
Noah and Grace ran out of the bedroom hallway, Grace was red faced and crying, “He hit me!”
Zack asked, “Noah, why did you hit Grace?”
“She was pushing me and sitting on my head!”
“How did she sit on your head? Was it on the ground?” Lydia asked.
“I looked under the dresser for my wood race car.” Noah waved his arms, “And then she sat on my head!”
Zack said, “I want both of you to sit on the living room chairs until you can quiet down.”
“But, but –”
“No butting. I want both of you sitting and being quiet.”
The kids stomped to the two chairs and sat down for their time out.
Lydia glared at Zack, only broken by the knocking at the front door.
Lydia answered the door, “Hi Mom.”
“Hi Lydia, Hi Zack.” She pushed her hat back and stepped into the narrow hallway. “Are you ready to go?” She looked from Lydia to Zack and felt the crawling tenseness in the room wiggling like maggots under the skin.
“Yes. Let me get my purse and sandals.”
The children ran over and hugged their grandmother. “Oh aren’t you two as cute as ever!” she hugged them and said, “Lydia, I can watch the kids for a few days while Zack is away.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Lydia’s mother asked, “Zack, are you getting paid for working out at that winery?”
“No.”
Lydia put her feet into her sandals and struck the heel of one on the floor, “It’s like paying to work.”
Lydia’s mother said, “Well. I wouldn’t work out there unless I was getting paid some sort of salary or wage or something, I would think.”
Zack looked at the children and shrugged. His mind ran with words he left unspoken. Yes, you’ve never worked in your whole life more than that two week claims office job taking customer calls. Just fortunate your husband worked in insurance with a fat pension. You do like to give out career advice.
She continued, “I hear that all these local companies are hiring a pile of program managers. It’s all over the news.”
“They don’t hire part-time workers. Most of the companies want to see the whites of their workers’ eyes all day, every day.”
Lydia’s mother asked, “So you don’t want a job?”
“By the time I get such a job, we put the kids in daycare, pay excessive taxes because our combined earnings add up … I work for free and the kids end up with random people taking care of them.”
Lydia growled, “You don’t want a job?”
Zack said to Lydia in low tones, his face inches from hers, “Don’t you work in business? Can’t you add numbers together? Taxes and daycare consume everything.”
Lydia’s lips thinned down, “Well. We’re going. We’ll see you later.”
Zack watched them drive away. The corner of his sight dwelt upon the sad little unfinished vineyard. The trellis wires hung limp and the posts stood stark. No vines grew under them. Just too much arguing. He cleaned up the counter and moved the mail into a neater pile. He picked up a sliver of paper torn absently from the phone message pad “… hire new babysitter – Nick to watch the kids?”. Why didn’t you tell me about getting another babysitter Lydia?
-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-
Zack turned onto the freeway entrance ramp, “Damn it! I forgot my Kindle.” He had fifty books loaded in there and it helped with his downtime in the evenings. He checked his watch. He was practically half way to the airport and now locked on the freeway. His next opportunity to turn around would be several miles then back to the house. He looked at his watch again after merging. If he went back, he might still have enough time. He had seen the kids off to school and Lydia left for work so a quick stop in and out of the house without any chance of arguments. He would have just enough time. He coiled around the next exit ramp, over the bridge, and back toward home.
Zack pulled into his driveway. He saw Lydia’s car parked again in its usual spot. A second unfamiliar car parked next to hers. Zack unlocked the house door and went in. He could smell the strong odor of the coffee he made before seeing the kids off to school. He expected to hear voices but nothing. He kicked off his shoes at the back door and walked across the living room to the back hall and the bedroom where he remembered leaving his electronic reader. He pushed open the door.
Lydia’s bare foot and calf stuck out from under seething covers. “Oh Yes! Yes!” Lydia’s muffled voice urged.
Zack grabbed a fistful of the comforter and yanked it away, “What the FUCK!”
Some guy’s bare ass thrust his hips into Lydia. His hands gripped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. Nipples that Zack knew every puckered bump and color shading and where Lydia was most sensitive. His eyes scanned the curve of her ribs and then down across her spread hips receiving this guy’s body smashing into her.
“Zack!” Lydia spun out from under him and got between him and Zack, her face draining to ash but still smeared with her favorite lipstick.
Zack backhanded Lydia’s cheek and pushed her away. He leaped across the mattress and pounded first one fist and then the second into the guy’s face.
�
�Zack stop! It’s not what you think. We, we – Nick get out!”
Zack’s rage intensified. His clenched fists aligned with his forearms so each blow hammered into Nick’s face and tumbled him back against the wall and the floor. The bedside lamp tipped over exploding in cascading ceramic that dug into Nick’s shoulder, lacerating him as he tried to scoot back from the onslaught of sharp knuckles.
Zack’s phone alarm went off advising him of his departing flight times. Zack got up off Nick’s bloody body. He growled, “– Invading my home. You’re lucky I have to make my plane. You better be gone when I get back.”
“Jesus Zack, you’re a fucking psychotic ass.”
Zack grabbed a hand towel off the closet linen shelf, “You two are lucky I didn’t get my baseball bat out.”
“Really tough Zack, really tough,” her hand still held her stinging jaw.
Zack watched Nicholas wipe his split lip with the back of his hand. Then his gaze turned back to Lydia, “I guess it’s not his schnauzer you’re attracted to, must hardly fill that thimble of yours.”
“It’s more than a thimble – those two kids of yours came out of there.”
Zack said, “You gave up on us.”
“No – I gave up on you,” Lydia’s hands pressed on her naked hips, her breasts hanging like another pair of accusing eyes.
“Hey, Nick, has she sent you to the store to get chips yet?” Zack turned, seeing Nick’s confused face change to understanding. Zack laughed, “Enjoy.” He punched his fist through the wall and walked away.
Lydia watched Zack through the broken hole in the wall as he left the house, “Nick, get your things. You better leave.”
-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-
Zack sped along the highway toward the airport. When the anger surge left him tears that blurred his sight replaced it. He wiped the water from his eyes and that brought on more anger. They had their troubles but what the hell? What should he do? He needed to get away. This trip would help him, maybe not the situation, but help his mental status. He checked his watch. The time worked perfectly, then he gritted his teeth, he forgot the electronic reader and all his books. He dreaded being belted into that airplane seat and forced to think about this situation the whole flight. Not even those monotonous in-flight shopping magazines would distract him. Probably just as well he did not have his novels. His attention span would be short. What was he going to do? He worried about his children. No question on a divorce, but what to do for the kids?
The sunlight knifed bright and sharp through the car windshield. He adjusted the visor again as the freeway curved his car around when he approached the airport. The sun brightened today like it frequently shown in California. Claire’s face merged into his mind. What held him to Detroit? They had only stayed because Lydia’s family and her job were in Detroit. His family, the ones that he kept in contact with, were scattered across the country, and his parents were gone.
The image of Claire’s face when she gave him the glistening glass of lemonade in the vineyard wove through his thoughts. How long might she stay interested in him? Maybe she was attracted to him because his marriage added a forbidden appeal. Now available, would her interest wane? Would she be gone in weeks now? A single, divorced man with two children. He laughed. Lydia turned out to be fickle.
He hit his fist against the steering wheel. Then saw his exit to the airport parking deck. He flipped into his comfortable travel routine. Parking, ticketing, security, boarding, flying, landing, car rental, driving to the motel. He ate the second packet of peanuts the flight attendant gave him seeing how troubled and distracted he was. He didn’t feel hungry but the crunching of the roasted peanuts between his teeth kept him from the feelings that seemed to push him toward madness. He knew his emotions had entered shock, denial, and everything else. His heart ached for Claire. Her smile flashed in his mind. He wanted to talk to her, but he did not want to burden her with this right now. Emptiness and sickness filled his chest. His heart ached for Claire. Could his feelings for her be just a refuge from his real plight? Did his feelings signify something more? Had he gone too far with her? Could he take the pain if Claire abandoned him? Did he love Claire?
-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-
“Claire, you better get me to the notary.”
“Dad?”
He stood. “I know we need to do this. I don’t know how much time I have.”
Claire snatched her keys from the peg on the wall and the paperwork off the counter. She stuffed her arms in her jacket against the morning chill as they got in her car. She drove toward the nearest bank. She had previously mapped the routes and given the time in the morning, this would be the quickest location.
“Claire, you’ve always been the responsible one.”
“Joan has been responsible,” Claire merged the car onto the main road. She remembered this corner as a fifteen year old and her father teaching her how to look both ways and start the turn, carefully watching for motorcycles on the road and bicycles on the sidewalk crossings. She felt the prickling start of full-on tears that she struggled at forcing down.
“No, she spends to the end of her budget and then some. I have to send her money at the holidays to cover their credit cards. Your brother spends all his money and is not motivated to do anything – he just drifts. I have to send him money every month so he has a place to stay. If I sent him two months’ rent at once I’d still need to send him more at the end of the month. You, I haven’t needed to give you anything. I helped you with your education being fair to you, but you’ve done your own path. Makes me proud.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She saw the bank’s sign down the road.
He said, “We might not make it to the notary today. You need to know where the important papers are. You have the key to the bank safe deposit box right?”
“Yes. I found it in the box on your dresser.”
“I don’t know where this is going but I see my window closing tighter. I’m bearish on my stock – my mind is just too fragile.”
“I know, Dad,” her car bumped up the entrance to the bank and she turned into the first open parking space. She pulled the key from the ignition and raced to her father’s side of the car. He cranked the window down instead of opening the door. “Dad – we have to go in the bank.”
“Who are you?” He looked in the car then back to her, “Why are you calling me Dad when I clearly don’t have any kids yet – I just got out of high school. Hey, where’s the hamburger shop? Because my belly is hurting.”
She didn’t want to say but the physicians at the hospital told them his belly was filling with cancer, either his mind or the cancer would take him, just which would be first they could not guess.
Claire walked back around to the driver’s side and slid into her seat.
“So you’re not the girl taking my hamburger order?”
Claire pushed the key in the ignition, started her car, and returned to her father’s home, “No, sir. I took you on a field trip and we must get you home now.”
“That’s a good plan.” He looked around at the cars on the road and the businesses they passed. “That’s a very good plan. What did you say your name was?”
“Claire.”
“That’s a nice name. I bet your parents are proud of you.”
Claire got him home and back into his chair. She sat at the kitchen table with her head on her arms, and cried.
Chapter 16
August
Zack’s phone rang, “Hello?”
“Zack, this is Martin, we’re shorthanded for the harvest tonight. Do you think you could come over and help? I have about forty investors coming but they don’t have a clue what they need to do. I hoped you might be able to fill in as a team leader. Coordinate them, the tractors, and the tubs? And the lights? Since we will be picking at night?”
Zack set the long handle of the paint roller down. He looked around the living room of the old drafty hired-man shack he had just rented that morning. The place was a mess but it was cheap.
He could pay in cash and stay here longer than the motel arrangement. He had shoved the half dozen mismatched pieces of furniture he bought off the local on-line classifieds in the adjacent room while he painted. Lydia’s actions convinced him he needed this place. Though long, it was walking distance from the winery if he cut through the vineyards and between a pair of hills.
“Sure. I’ll see you tonight.”
Zack dialed the number for Claire. He waited for it to ring. He hadn’t talked with her in a while. Neither of them had initiated any calls. He had been worried she had not called but for some reason he had avoided calling her. He feared burdening her with is occupied mind would risk driving Claire away.
“Hello?”
“Hi. I’m helping with the grape harvest tonight. How would you like to come out and learn to pick grapes?”
Claire’s answer came with hesitation, “What time?”
Zack paced on the wide rough-cut floor boards, his boots scraped an echoing noise through the empty room. The spiced scent of fresh drying paint filled the air. “I’m running the harvest crew tonight. We start after the sun goes down and either finish the field or stop right after dawn. Then all the grapes go to the crush pad for processing. It’s a good experience.” He added, “We’re short of help and the grapes are ready to go. I went out yesterday and toured the vineyard with our wine maker and the sugar content was nearly ready yesterday. It’s been hot today and I can only imagine another day and we’ll overshoot the sugar target.”
“Staying up all night?”
“We use banks of big lights mounted on tractors. I’m sure you’ve driven on the freeway at night and saw the workers pouring concrete in what looks like the middle of the afternoon with those lights.”
“That should be fun. Let me get things arranged and I’ll see you before dusk.”
“Looking forward to it. Find me by the crush pad at the winery.”
CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country) Page 17
