One Foot in the Grape

by Carlene O'Neil

  I leaned over. “Something interesting in the program?”

  “Not interesting, but certainly less trouble.”

  Antonia stood to the side of the stage. Her long black dress appeared blue with the stage lights. Her gaze rested on something at the back of the tent. I turned my head and looked down the row. Near the entrance Francesca stood several feet from Brice.

  I watched Brice, the successful doctor, ever in control, even now. I wasn’t sure how he managed to be in the same room with his wife, his mother-in-law and the sister-in-law he seduced, and still look smug and arrogant.

  Francesca studied the judges and ignored him. She didn’t have any wines up there yet, but her jaw was set as she watched the results and took notes.

  The presence of these six people occupied my thoughts and I missed most of the program until I heard the winner called for Best New Entry—a small winery also here on a first-year invite. Not as new as us and, in my opinion, not as good. I looked at Hayley. She wore the disappointment on her face and I grabbed her hand.

  “I feel like I’ve let you down,” she said.

  “Nonsense. Some of this is purely personal opinion, and it just wasn’t our day.” I hoped this was true and looked at Connor for support.

  “Penny’s right. We’ll get them next time.”

  I listened to their gracious acceptance and watched as they made their way to the edge of the stage. As the final award of Best in Show was collected by another winery of long standing, I realized Martinelli Winery hadn’t picked up a single recognition.

  The slump in Stephen’s shoulders was visible, but even more obvious was the change in Veronica. She was tense before; now she was rigid. As she turned away from Stephen, anger was evident in the set of her jaw and clamped lips.

  There was anger in Antonia’s face as well, but the greater emotion was disappointment. She was pale and leaned heavily on her cane. A man in the front row stood to offer her his seat, and she waved him away with her cane. The only Martinelli who seemed happy with the outcome was Francesca. She smiled at Antonia, but it was a sour smile and her eyes were hard. Granted, leaving Stephen the winery simply because he was the eldest male was completely outdated and, in light of the winery’s performance, a bad decision, but Francesca seemed to relish the pain of her family. She deserved to be married to Brice.

  Antonia moved toward us as we made our way to the aisle. Stephen, Veronica and Chantal pushed their way through the crowds as well and all of us met at the same spot. The seven of us stood for a moment before Connor and Stephen spoke at once.

  “Tough to win the first year in . . .”

  “Don’t let it get to you; next year’s around the corner . . .”

  I studied Stephen and actually, he didn’t look bad. He looked almost happy. Relieved. I guess it was better, even with disappointing results, to have the competition behind him. In contrast, Veronica looked pale and still. She moved to the edge of the group and didn’t seem to follow the conversation. Chantal looked unconcerned and, as usual, beautiful in a red pashmina cape.

  “Come back to the house with us,” Antonia said.

  “Yes, you must.” Chantal pushed past me to stand near Connor. She managed to step on my foot and the heel of her stiletto dug into me. I looked down. Red.

  “Ouch!”

  “Oh, sorry. Was that your foot?”

  “No. Just my last nerve.”

  Chantal looked back at me. “Huh?”

  I shook my head. “Never mind.” Connor’s eyes twinkled. Laugh it up, funny boy.

  “Antonia, I’m sure they’re anxious to get home. We’re all tired.” Veronica tugged at her pearls.

  Antonia looked at her. “If you’re tired, feel free to go to bed once we’re home. I’m not tired, and stop speaking for them.” She looked at the three of us. “Come for a glass, although”—she glanced at Stephen—“with results like this, maybe you should bring the wine.”

  Stephen froze at the remark, the relaxed look of a moment earlier now gone.

  Veronica gasped. “It was a tough day for all of us. I’m sure now is not the time to be pointing fingers.”

  Antonia waved her away with a pale hand. “I’ve heard enough. We’ll pull out an earlier vintage, one fitting the occasion, and toast the success of Joyeux Winery.”

  “But we didn’t win anything,” I said.

  “You competed well. Your time will come.”

  Hayley declined the invitation, choosing to stay with several managers still at the festival, and the rest of us made our way to the entrance of the tent. The rain was light at the moment, and we stood watching it fall on the empty fairgrounds.

  “We can’t walk up the path. Connor and I both have cars here, but I can only fit one more,” I said.

  “My car is here as well,” Veronica said.

  Chantal still held on to Connor’s arm. “I’ll ride in the truck with you, though it may be a tight squeeze.”

  I’d like to give her a tight squeeze. Around the throat.

  “I’ll ride with Connor. Chantal, you ride with Veronica.” Antonia glanced over at me, and I smiled.

  “Stephen, how about riding with me?” I asked.

  Stephen mumbled something that could have been “sure” and walked off toward the parking lot.

  Connor walked out beside me. “I’ll wait for you at the parking entrance.”

  I nodded and caught up to Stephen. As we left the parking lot, Connor pulled in behind me to follow us up the hill.

  When we were on the main road I looked over at Stephen. He kept his eyes straight ahead, his shoulders stiff. I only had a few moments alone with him but didn’t know where to begin. The silence was punctuated by the rhythm of raindrops against the car roof.

  “I’m sure Connor is right and next year will be better.”

  Stephen snorted.

  I took this as encouragement to continue, primarily because I wanted to. “Don’t you think your results will be different next year?”

  “Oh, you can believe me when I say it’ll be more of the same, especially now that Marvin is gone.” He shrugged. “I’m already dreading it.”

  “So why do it? I mean it. If you really don’t want to do this, you shouldn’t.”

  He turned his face toward me. “When someone you’ve been wanting approval from your entire life believes you can do something, wants to give you a chance to do something, whether or not you actually want to do it doesn’t come into play.”

  Stephen had already said more than he ever had to me. We only had a few minutes more in the car.

  I waited.

  “I’ve tried, but the reality is, I’m just not cut out for this. Never was. Mother insisted on leaving me the winery. Did she ever ask me? No.”

  “She must have thought you were capable. Antonia would never do anything to the detriment of the winery.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. Only to the detriment of her children.”

  “Antonia wouldn’t want you to run the winery if you don’t want to. In her own way, she wants you to be happy.”

  He threw up his hands. “I get it, but it isn’t that easy. She has a mental block about leaving the winery to the oldest male because of some ancient history with my grandfather, and I’m stuck with my future handed to me.”

  We turned in to the driveway and Connor pulled in beside me. Ahead of us, Veronica and Chantal had parked and were out of the car. Stephen grew quiet but he was agitated. We watched as Connor offered his arm to Antonia for support and Chantal quickly claimed his other side.

  I got out of the car and walked to the other side, waiting for Stephen.

  Connor looked over his shoulder.

  I waved him ahead. “Get Antonia out of the rain.”

  He nodded and turned toward the house.

  Stephen pulled himself from the car and be
gan to walk away from the house, toward the fermentation building.

  Veronica ran to him and pulled him to where I stood. “What were you two talking about?”

  “Just the festival and the awards results.” I watched Connor help Antonia up the wet steps. “Next year things will be different for the Martinellis, I’m sure.”

  “Of course next year will be different,” Veronica said. “You can’t expect Stephen’s improvements to have a positive impact the first year. There are always hurdles when changes take place.”

  Stephen held up his hand, anger in his eyes. “Veronica, that’s enough. I won’t do this anymore.”

  Once again he turned away. Veronica grabbed him but he shrugged her off. We stood and watched as he threw open the fermentation building door and disappeared inside the building.

  Veronica turned to me. “I don’t know what you said, but the least you can do is help make it right.” She turned and walked after Stephen.

  I looked back at the house. Connor would assume we were right behind him. I wasn’t sure how this was my fault, or what I’d say to make it better, but I was determined to hear the conversation between Veronica and Stephen, clearly a long time coming.

  I hurried to the entrance of the building, stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The raised voices led me to the rear of the room, dim in the soft florescent light. When I saw Stephen I stopped. His hands were in front of his chest, palms pressed together, as though he prayed, pleaded, for Veronica to understand.

  Veronica’s voice reverberated through the building, high and shrill. “What do you mean you don’t want to do this anymore? You have a chance to run one of the largest wineries in California and you want to turn it down? What exactly do you plan on doing instead?”

  Stephen reached for her. “Veronica, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I want to do something else with my life.”

  Veronica pushed at him and turned away. “What else are you trained to do? Nothing, that’s what. You were born to do this.” She turned again to take his hands. “We were born to do this.”

  This time it was Stephen to push away, backing toward the rear wall. “No, Veronica, I mean it. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  He looked up and spotted me. “Penny, I want you to hear this too.”

  I walked over beside Veronica.

  Stephen took a deep breath. “I’ve tried to learn this business, to understand the art of winemaking. All of the improvements that worked were Todd’s ideas. It’s true,” he added, cutting off any objections Veronica might have made. “I haven’t had a single suggestion that’s had any value since, well, ever. Then I figured a couple of bad years would make Mother come to her senses and remove me. I’ve insured, in my own way, that this year’s vintages wouldn’t meet with Martinelli standards.”

  My thoughts went back to the last time I was in this building, back to the footsteps, the yeast and the broken bottle on the floor.

  “You. You’re the one sabotaging the wines. You’re the one who ran from me that day.”

  Stephen looked at the both of us. “I want out.”

  “No,” Veronica said. “Don’t say anything else.”

  “Veronica, please.”

  “I mean it, Stephen. I don’t want to hear another word.” Veronica ran to the rear doors of the building and pulled them open. Lightning flashed, showing her outline as she disappeared into the wind and rain.

  “We can’t leave her alone out there.” I moved across the floor, Stephen behind me.

  “I’m sorry she’s disappointed in me, but I mean it, Penny. I don’t want this. I won’t pay the rest of my life just because I was born first.”

  There, in the darkness, what I’d struggled to piece together was suddenly clear. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Seen it in Stephen’s clothing, in his driving. Heard it in Antonia’s comments in the attic about children, birth certificates and the promise to her father for the firstborn to inherit.

  I reached the door ahead of Stephen and stepped into the storm. The wind howled now and whipped rain across my face and into my eyes. I strained to see Veronica in the night. The wind slammed the door and I turned. Veronica stood behind me. The door had an open padlock and as I watched her push it in place and lock it, the last pieces fell into place.

  “It was you. You killed Todd. You killed Marvin too.”

  She watched me through the rain. “You’re just guessing.”

  “No guess. It was Stephen’s clothes and his driving that really gave it away.”

  “What are you talking about? He can’t drive or dress, but he doesn’t do anything right. What does it matter?”

  “Stephen can’t match his clothes and he mixes up traffic signal colors.”

  Veronica moved closer.

  I backed away, not feeling land beneath my heels.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Did you know Stephen is color-blind?”

  Veronica clapped her hands. “Good guess, but who cares? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Joanne told me Todd’s father was adopted. She also said he was killed in a car accident, probably because he had the same problem with the signals Stephen does. They can’t distinguish between certain colors. Also, Todd said on the night you killed him that Joanne wasn’t letting him help with the wedding plans because he was color-blind. It runs in families. Stephen and Todd were related.” I took a step toward her.

  Veronica pulled a gun from her bag. “Keep going. Really, I must insist. What else gave it away?”

  “The missing gun from the attic?”

  She nodded. “Now talk.”

  I eyed the gun. “I should have guessed before now. Antonia said something the other day in the attic, looking at birth certificates. She said there were three of them. Why would she say that if she only had three children? Who else was she thinking of? Then last night, she said she gave something up, something to keep the winery.” I looked at Veronica. “Todd’s father was Antonia’s son, wasn’t he?”

  Veronica moved closer.

  The ground shifted under my feet.

  “Too bad you didn’t figure it out earlier.”

  I tried to not to stare at the gun. “Does Stephen know?”

  Veronica pushed the hair from her face. There wasn’t a hint of indecision as she laughed. “Stephen? I haven’t told him anything, not for twenty-two years.”

  She moved closer and, with the gun in my ribs, pushed me farther down the slope. I stumbled and risked a quick look. Fifty feet down, at least.

  “You’ve been planning this for twenty-two years?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t have done anything if Todd hadn’t come to work here, but he was with Antonia every day. There was too much risk she’d see something, hear something. What if Todd told her his father was given up for adoption? What if the dates came up? I didn’t care how unlikely it was. You think I was going to take that chance?”

  “How did you find out about Todd’s father?” I glanced to the side. The path down to the festival grounds was somewhere to my left.

  “I worked at the hospital, remember? A nurse, invisible, cleaning up after people. Little more than a servant. Then as a volunteer in the office. Much nicer. The records are all there, if you know where to look.”

  The wind had calmed a bit and the rain had lessened. Connor must have realized we weren’t behind him. Surely he’d come. “How did you get a copy of the birth certificate? I thought those things were kept locked.”

  Veronica raised her voice. “I said I worked at the hospital. I made myself indispensable and had keys to the records and documents rooms. I showed a copy to Todd the night I killed him. At the crusher. I dropped it in. When he reached for it, well, then it was easy.”

  “The torn paper that Lucas found. That’s how you got Todd out there?”

  Veronic
a nodded. “I said I needed to tell him something personal. Imagine”—she smiled—“just moments before he died, Todd found out Antonia was his grandmother.”

  “How did you know Antonia had a child?”

  Veronica shrugged. “When I started dating Stephen, I went through the family records. I wanted to know more about this family than anyone, and I do. I found the birth certificate and made a copy. It’s nice to know things about people, isn’t it? Imagine Antonia having a baby out of wedlock. My perfect, perfect mother-in-law with an illegitimate child. How do you think she’d feel, knowing she had her grandson right here and didn’t even realize it?”

  “Stephen was her legitimate heir. She might have decided to leave things as they are.”

  Veronica laughed, holding the gun with both hands. “Do you think I’ve put up with Antonia all these years to take that chance? It’s my destiny to run this winery.”

  “Think, Veronica. Everyone knows we’re out here, just the three of us.”

  “Well, there are only two right now, and your falling wouldn’t be hard to believe. Accidents happen, and you’re known for being impetuous. Besides, you haven’t had a chance to tell anyone your theory, so why would anyone suspect I wanted to kill you?”

  Damn. Good point.

  “So what do we do now?”

  “I need to run to get help for you.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “You will after you hit the bottom.” She swung the gun toward my shoulder. I turned away and heard a snap as the gun landed on my collarbone. The pain was blinding and brought my feet out from under me, but instead of falling backward off the hill, I twisted to the side. I landed in the mud on my knees and clung to the side of the slope.

  Veronica moved above me, raised her foot and dug her heel into the back of my hand.

  “I see you hurt your hand, Penny. Cut it in the woods last night?” She then raised her foot and kicked at my shoulder. The pain exploded in my head when she made contact with the broken bone, but I kept my grip on the jagged slope. Dirt and mud got under my nails. A rock sliced into my knee.