Angie pulled a face. ‘White wine. Don’t think so, not even as vinegar.’ She began to inspect the barrels. ‘Looks as if Rolfe put down several casks of port. If that hasn’t soured, the blend was good, and old Otto maintained the turning, the port could be very smooth indeed.’ She pointed to some small timber packing cases. ‘He probably intended to put out a commemorative port, in honour of the first vintage.’
Sam pulled at Carla’s arm. ‘Come on, Mum, let’s look at the vines. I want to see the creek too. My teacher told me you can catch yabbies in Australian creeks.’
‘What’s a yabby?’ Carla smiled at her son’s enthusiasm. He was such a bundle of energy.
‘It’s a freshwater crayfish. A relative of prawns, I think,’ Angie informed her.
Carla’s smile widened. Sam seemed to be taking to Australia, and that was good if…Last night she had been overtired due to the travelling, the anticipation of seeing Krugerhoff, and the storm, and hadn’t been able to fall sleep because so many thoughts, questions, possibilities tumbled around inside her head. Sad thoughts about her father and yes, other more optimistic thoughts that maybe, just maybe Krugerhoff could be turned into a going concern. Carla knew it would take a lot of hard work and money, and added to that was the element of risk. What if she couldn’t make it work? Not one to overestimate her capabilities, she considered herself middle-of-the-road when it came to risking what she had for…the unknown.
However, she couldn’t dispute the fact that another attraction was pulling her in the direction of giving Krugerhoff a go—the Stenmark family. If they turned out to be congenial and relationships could be established which would benefit Sam that would, she admitted, tip the balance towards a decision to move to the Barossa.
Once out in the sunshine, Carla blinked as her eyes readjusted to the light. Behind the cottage, through the high grass and low shrubs, the vines, even after several years of neglect were clearly visible but a little wild. No order, no straight rows; the trellises—if there were any left standing—were invisible. It looked an impossible mess to try to sort out.
‘It’s a bit of a tangle,’ Angie conceded as she read the expression on Carla’s face. With hands in the pockets of her jeans she stood next to her friend, at the edge of the vines, overlooking them.
‘I suppose they’d have to be pulled out and one,’ Carla was careful at this point not to say ‘we’, ‘would have to start from scratch.’
‘Not necessarily. It’s hard to tell without getting in amongst them, but from here the vines look healthy enough. Because it’s autumn, they’re losing their leaves quickly now and when they’re dormant one could go along, do a heavy prune back, and re-establish the trellises.’ Angie glanced sideways at Carla. ‘If there was sufficient labour to tidy the vines and re-do the supports, that is. Providing there’s no disease lurking, I’d be optimistic that most of the vines would blossom and bear fruit in the spring.’
Carla’s eyebrows shot up. She stared at Angie. ‘Really? You’re sure?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it,’ Angie confessed, ‘but I’m fairly confident that with a lot of hard work, Krugerhoff could produce a harvest by next summer.’
‘Amazing…’
Sam, out of sight, called from the other side of the paddock. ‘Hey, Mum, I’ve found the creek.’
Angie grinned. She and Carla exchanged glances. ‘I’ll go. You stay here and study things.’ She knew Carla well enough to know that Rolfe’s daughter liked to weigh up the pros and cons and in this case, if she decided to keep Krugerhoff she would be making a considerable commitment. Angie, with her experience, could gauge the potential better than Carla and she felt in her bones that Krugerhoff was ripe for rejuvenation. The timing couldn’t be better either, with business in the Valley booming. Still, as a close friend, she knew she would have to be careful to not appear overenthusiastic. If a decision on what to do with Krugerhoff had to be made, Carla should make it alone.
Walking through the tall, wild grass towards a line of taller, shrubby bushes which bordered the creek, she called to Sam. ‘Where are you, Sam?’
Intent on finding the boy, Angie didn’t see the man stalking through the grass and shrubby bush towards Carla, until she heard a male voice call out peremptorily.
‘This is private property, lady. What the hell are you doing here?’
Angie turned back long enough to see Carla face the interloper, and watched her chin go up defensively, her stance stiffen. She smiled and stayed on course. Whoever the male was—it wasn’t that nice architect who’d come to their aid yesterday—he would get short shrift from Carla Hunter using that arbitrary tone. Grinning, she located the adventurous Sam, who was down on his haunches using a stick to probe the depths of the creek. ‘Looking for yabbies, are you, Sam?’
Carla’s blue eyes turned glacial as she watched the solidly built man in work clothes approach. Something bullish in his overall shape and the aggressive turn of his mouth made her hackles rise. She didn’t answer his question, she just stared at him.
Josh Aldrich stopped almost a metre away from the red-haired woman, as if he’d slammed into an invisible wall. Shit! It was like seeing some weird apparition, or reincarnation. He knew in an instant who she was without having to ask and something more than curiosity, instant attraction, raced through him. He dug his hand into his trouser pocket to control the stirring in his groin. Hell, she was so like her…grandmother! The features, her red hair curling all over the place, but the sharp blue eyes—they were like the old man’s.
Finding he could speak, when he did his tone held a different note, of awe. ‘W-what are you doing here?’
Carla countered with her own question, her voice school-teacherish, condescending. ‘And who might you be to ask me such a question? You’re obviously not the police, or a real estate agent.’
‘I’m…’ he puffed out his chest, ‘Josh Aldrich, Operations Manager of Rhein Schloss Wines.’ He continued the charade that he didn’t know her identity. ‘This is private property, you know. I saw the open gates, and the car. Thought I should investigate.’ Not really the truth. He’d come for a bit of a squizz, and—look at what he’d found. He grinned internally. The jackpot!
‘Ah, Mr Aldrich. Who appointed you unofficial caretaker of Krugerhoff?’
Oh, boy! She even sounded like Carl Stenmark. He’d love to be a fly on the wall if the two of them ever came face-to-face. ‘No one,’ he answered. ‘Just being neighbourly, making sure things are okay.’ He took a deep breath and asked the question because he had to be certain. ‘You are her, aren’t you?’ When she didn’t reply, he added, ‘Rolfe Stenmark’s daughter.’
Carla almost smiled. ‘News travels fast in Australian small communities, just as it does in New Zealand.’ She confirmed her identity. ‘I’m Carla Hunter.’
‘Then, this is your place now, isn’t it?’
‘It will be as soon as probate is granted, Mr Aldrich.’
Josh Aldrich shrugged. ‘Call me Josh, Carla. People in the Valley call each other by first names, you know. You’re gonna make a killing when you sell this land,’ he enthused. ‘Since people in the Valley heard about Rolfe’s, um, your father’s passing, there’s been plenty of speculation as to who’s interested in buying Krugerhoff.’ He believed she would appreciate such information, but when her eyes remained cool, knew otherwise.
‘What makes you or anyone else think I’m going to sell?’
Josh threw back his head and laughed. ‘Lady, you kill me. The Valley knows you’ve no money behind you, and that you don’t know a damn about winemaking. It’d be pretty dumb of you not to sell.’ He could see that she was thinking about what he’d said, and followed up with, ‘Carl, your grandfather, he’ll do anything to get this land back.’ His gaze narrowed, became almost feral. ‘You could name your price, Carla.’
‘My grandfather said that?’
‘We’re like that, you know.’ Josh put his right hand up with his index and second finger
together to imply closeness, without giving an honest answer. ‘Yeah, he said that to me, more or less.’ Shit, it was close enough to the truth.
She mulled that over for a few seconds. ‘Then it would be wise of me to check the matter out with him. See what figure he has in mind.’
Josh got such a shock at her frankness that he blurted out, ‘Shit, lady. I mean, Carla, don’t do that, don’t go to Carl. The old man, he’s…’ How could he put it without hurting her feelings? he wondered. But then he remembered that he didn’t know her so what did her feelings matter to him, even if she was a right looker with oodles of contained sex appeal? ‘The old man is, he’s still upset about what your father did, you know about that of course. He mightn’t take too kindly to seeing you, you being Rolfe’s daughter and all.’
‘His only granddaughter, I believe. Isn’t that a touch ridiculous?’
He watched as she straightened to her full height. When she did their eyes were almost level with each other. Josh fancied he could read people’s feelings pretty well, and Carla Hunter wasn’t bothering to hide them. She was gathering a head of steam, and what with that red hair of hers and his frank way of talking that wasn’t surprising. He waited for the explosion…
‘Everyone in the Valley knows that too, I suppose, about my father and Marta?’
‘Yeah, but it’s old news,’ he told her cheerfully. Josh liked to goad people, to see how long it took for them to lose their temper.
On hearing that, Carla blinked in disbelief. ‘Yes, it happened more than thirty years ago. What kind of person keeps a grudge going that long?’
‘The kind of person who can,’ Josh suggested smugly. ‘Carl Stenmark’s the type who doesn’t forget or forgive.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘Okay.’ He shrugged easily. It didn’t matter to him one way or the other. He had what he wanted. A juicy piece of news to give Luke and old Carl. Rolfe’s offspring was in town. That would get him in good with them. ‘Just a piece of advice, Carla, and you can take it or leave it. Give Stenmark’s home and Rhein Schloss a wide berth. Do your dealings on Krugerhoff with Luke Michaels, Stenmark’s grandson. He’s more approachable and reasonable than the old man.’
Irritated by Josh’s insight into her grandfather’s opinions and him telling her the kind of man Carl Stenmark was, she reacted, not appreciating the supercilious smirk—as if he knew everything—on Josh Aldrich’s face either. The man was far too smug. ‘Well, now that we’ve met, Josh Aldrich, you can go back to your boss and tell him that when, and if, I sell Krugerhoff, if my grandfather’s attitude is as you say, it definitely won’t become a Rhein Schloss acquisition.’
‘Lady, you’re unbelievable.’ Josh shook his head, half bemused, half in admiration. ‘You don’t want to go up against Rhein Schloss. Carl might be pushing eighty-two, but he’s a formidable opponent.’
She had had enough! Hands on hips, legs apart to balance herself, she replied coolly, ‘I can be formidable too, Mr Aldrich. Tell your boss that and…get off my land.’ The index finger of her right hand pointed imperiously towards the vineyard’s gates. ‘Now!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Crouched among a tangle of grapevines, Kim Loong eavesdropped unashamedly on the conversation between Josh Aldrich, whom she knew, and the red-haired woman. So, she was now Krugerhoff’s owner. A most interesting fact, that. Anything that affected Krugerhoff was important to her. She recalled overheard snippets of gossip during her months in the Valley mentioning the abandoned vineyard the Loongs had made their temporary home.
From Aldrich’s tone and the woman’s responses, it appeared that the property might be up for sale but, from her hiding place and as she watched the woman’s face closely for changes in expression, Kim sensed that something was at odds with that possibility. If her judgement of the woman was accurate, and more often than not it was because living on the streets of Saigon had forced such skills upon her, the stranger betrayed little inclination to sell her inheritance. And Aldrich’s grating manner—something with which Kim was also familiar having been subjected to it at one of Rhein Schloss’s vineyards—was antagonising the woman to such a degree that Ms Hunter would not sell, particularly to the owners of Rhein Schloss.
All of which was interesting, but where did the situation leave her little family? If Krugerhoff was sold and rebuilt or if Ms Hunter stayed on to reinvigorate the vineyard, it meant the same for her family; their makeshift home would be discovered, they would be forced to leave and would become homeless.
Shaking off a wave of depression, she hunched, completely hidden, amongst the vines. She did not want that—their eviction—to happen. Continuing to observe, she watched the other older, blonde woman return with the ginger-haired boy. The three made their way back to the cottage. The boy raced ahead, running and skipping as he went. The women talked together as they walked.
The listened-to conversation had given her much food for thought about her family’s future and, waiting till the strangers were out of sight before she moved, Kim decided that Tran must fix his bike quickly! It might be needed sooner than they thought.
‘Can it be done?’ Carla asked Angie as they sat in a café in Murray Street, having lunch.
Smiling, because it was the question Angie had waited days for Carla to ask, she had the answer ready. ‘I believe so. Sell Valley View Winery to Claude Webster and after settling the bills and the loan there should be a small profit. And if you sell your flat in Christchurch—mind you, you won’t realise a lot on that deal, with the market as depressed as it is—but with whatever profits you have and with what Rolfe left me, there should be enough of a bankroll to put Krugerhoff back on its feet, in a small way to start with.’
Carla’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I see you have it all worked out. It sounds good, providing,’ she emphasised the word, ‘we go in as fifty-fifty partners. I insist on that.’
‘If that’s what you want, okay, and yes I have given the possibilities a lot of thought,’ Angie replied, then added knowingly, ‘I’m sure you have too.’
Carla nodded. ‘I’d have to be blind not to see the potential and, if I could pick up some part-time work teaching—I believe my qualifications would be accepted here—that would help too.’ She watched Angie’s expression. ‘Of course. The bonus as far as I’m concerned is getting to know Dad’s relatives. That would be so good for Sam.’
Angie frowned at Carla’s remark. ‘Don’t be too optimistic on that score. Didn’t that Aldrich fellow warn you against contacting your grandfather? That Carl Stenmark wouldn’t be, shall we say, welcoming?’ She was fairly sure that would be so. Over the years Rolfe had given her no more than the base facts of his disinheritance and assuming that Aldrich wasn’t exaggerating Carla could find herself snubbed by the high and mighty Stenmarks.
Carla’s eyes lit with the glow of determination. ‘I can’t believe anyone could hold a grudge for over thirty years and carry it over to people he doesn’t know, people who have nothing to do with the original problem.’
‘It isn’t logical but then your grandfather is getting on. Sometimes old people develop foibles. My father went a bit strange after Mum died—cranky and difficult to live with—and stayed that way till he died.’ Angie looked at Sam who was wriggling restlessly in his seat and said, ‘Why don’t you take Sam to that nice park we saw on the way in?’
‘Yeah, Mum,’ Sam was enthusiastic. ‘My football’s in the boot of the car.’
Angie smiled at him, he was the closest thing to a grandchild that she would ever have. ‘Do that and I’ll go back to the motel and put some figures down on paper. They’ll only be estimates but then we’ll have a better idea of what it will take, financially, to make Krugerhoff viable.’
‘Don’t forget to add something for renovating the cottage. If we’re going to stay, it has to be liveable.’
‘It wouldn’t need much. A new kitchen, painting inside and out, built-ins in the bedrooms, updating the furniture and rel
ocating the office. We could build a small room off the back verandah or transform the garage into an office.’ She gave Carla a swift glance. ‘Why don’t we ask that nice architect fellow, Paul, to give us an idea as to what that might cost? At the same time he could make sure the buildings are structurally sound.’
Carla gave Angie a quelling look. ‘You’re incorrigible.’ For the last six months Angie had been trying to get her to date members of the opposite sex again, whenever she and Sam came to the vineyard. ‘I am not looking for a man, so don’t try to set me up with one.’
Having demolished their lunches, Carla paid the bill. ‘Time for the park,’ she told Sam. Out in the sunshine again, Angie headed down the street towards their motel while Carla and Sam got in the car.
As Carla buckled Sam into his seat, she thought hard. Was she doing, or about to do, the right thing with regard to Krugerhoff? Her thoughts were in a quandary. It was going to involve a lot of hard work and, wouldn’t it be easier to just sell and use the money to pay out the loan on Valley View? That was the sensible option but…her father had held onto Krugerhoff for a reason and left her the vineyard. That reason was, she believed, to put her in touch with his family, even though he’d never mentioned them to her. Hard work or not she reckoned she owed it to her dad to try, and with Angie’s help and expertise she felt positive it would be successful. What a wonderful future legacy she would create for Sam!
She started the car. She would take Sam to Coulthard Reserve and then, ignoring Angie’s advice to be cautious, she intended to visit Stenhaus and introduce herself to the strangers who were her family.
A good hour at the park, feeding the ducks in the lake, and with Sam running along the pathways, kicking his football, made him tired enough to sit quietly in his seat while Carla eventually found her way to her grandfather’s home. After several wrong turns and stopping to ask directions to Stenhaus twice, she made it down the drive to the imposing residence of the Stenmark family. Open-mouthed, Carla stared at the house where her father had once lived.
Sundown Crossing Page 10
