At the back of the crowd and though they could not be described as small vignerons stood Luke Michaels and Josh Aldrich.
‘Damn! I didn’t think Angie could do it but she has,’ Josh grumbled to Luke. ‘Their bloody first vintage and they win a gold medal award. Talk about beginner’s luck.’ His eyebrows lifted meaningfully. ‘Carl won’t be pleased, will he?’
‘He won’t,’ Luke confirmed. He shook his head and gestured for Josh to move with him, away from others who could overhear their conversation.
Outside the building Luke buttoned his black leather jacket against the cool air and dug his hands into the pockets of his trousers. The plan to rid the Valley of Carla and her winemaker friend was, with the awards they’d just won, about to fail. She would never leave of her own free will now that she’d been given this boost, for it would guarantee that her first vintage would sell like proverbial hot cakes, and the kudos would flow on to her second vintage.
Many people in the Barossa had already accepted her—small vignerons, tradespeople, merchants and traders. It was almost as if they secretly enjoyed seeing Carla triumph over the big business wheels of Rhein Schloss. He guessed they saw Carla’s success as a win for the little person. That she was likeable and friendly increased her growing popularity. His mother wouldn’t listen to criticism of her and, as a consequence, there had been several heated debates at Stenhaus over the last few months, with his mother defending Carla and Lisel’s obsessive hatred of Carla escalating to create a good deal of discord when Grandfather wasn’t present.
‘So, what are we going to do about them, Luke?’ Josh’s tone was belligerent, irritated.
Luke gave Josh a dark look. He was well aware of Josh’s resentment of Carla which was only a few steps removed from Lisel’s hatred of Rolfe’s daughter. ‘I don’t know. Yet.’
‘Well, if you can’t come up with anything, I have some ideas,’ Josh offered with an accompanying mysterious smile. ‘Unless…’ Josh stopped, his gaze narrowing slyly for a moment, then he continued, ‘you’ve gone cold on the idea of getting rid of them.’
Luke almost winced at how close Josh’s statement was to the truth. If it were up to him, if he didn’t have Grandfather periodically pestering him about getting the Krugerhoff acres back, if his mother didn’t like Carla so much, and…if he hadn’t begun to admire and like his cousin more than he should, he would let things slide and get off her case.
‘That’s not an option,’ Luke replied, tightlipped. Unfortunately!
‘Glad to hear it,’ Josh retorted bullishly. ‘And by the way, there’s a rumour circulating that Walt Conrad is negotiating to take the entire Sundown Crossing vintage off Carla’s hands. I reckon the little shit intends to work some kind of scam.’ He chuckled, as if that amused him. ‘If he does, that could be the answer to our problem.’
Luke, increasingly irritated by his operations manager, stared at him and asked. ‘How so?’
‘What if Conrad takes the vintage and can’t unload it on the liquor trade? Conrad won’t be out of pocket, he’s the middle man, but it could rebound adversely on Carla’s vineyard if sales don’t happen. She’s running tight financially, she’s depending on selling her vintage to fund the vineyard till the next vintage is ready for sale. If she runs out of funds…?’
‘Walt being unable to sell the vintage isn’t likely now that they’ve won a gold medal,’ Luke pointed out.
‘True, but you know Walt. He’s a con artist and who knows, he might have his own agenda in respect to Sundown Crossing.’ Josh nodded his head wisely. ‘The man can’t be trusted. Carla thinks he’s a great friend but the only person Walt’s out to better is himself.’
‘You don’t need to convince me of that,’ Luke agreed. His expression grew thoughtful as he considered what Josh had said. Did Conrad have a trick or two in mind? And if so, could matters work in their favour simply by letting Conrad do the dirty work? A sour taste filled his mouth, followed by an uncharacteristic wave of self-loathing, especially so because, from the point of view of his inheritance, he knew that Carla should be strenuously encouraged to quit the Valley.
Grandfather, Lisel and his own father thought it important to chase Carla out of the Barossa but somehow, and notwithstanding the inheritance issue, it seemed wrong and…unfair. Yet, as a member of the Stenmark family he was duty-bound to agree with the majority rule, no matter how personally distasteful he found it.
‘Come on, the show’s over,’ Luke said gruffly, ‘we might as well go home.’
The Barossa was becoming known nationally and internationally for the number of festivals it held every year. Any reason for a party where good food and the drinking of excellent wines could be encouraged, was reason enough for a festival. Such functions at various times of the year were used to promote tourism, to bring the close-knit community together and for everyone participating to enjoy themselves.
Luke wasn’t in a festive mood as he wandered amongst the stalls of the biennial Barossa Valley Vintage Festival held at Tanunda. He stopped occasionally to give a cursory once-over to products that ranged from cheeses, to grape jellies, to arts and crafts, and a variety of table and fortified wines. Boardroom pressure was growing for him to do something positive about Carla, and his conscience had a problem with carrying out the directive. He wasn’t the tough businessman his father and grandfather were. And he didn’t have Lisel’s killer instinct for wanting to win or Josh Aldrich’s lack of conscience which allowed him to do the things he did without a moment’s concern.
Since the Winewise Small Vigneron Awards he had racked his brain for a solution to the predicament, to no avail. He could step aside and let his aunt manage the problem; she would have no difficulties because Lisel was ruthless and had little conscience. That worried him because he had an inkling as to what she could be capable of, and it made him feel uncomfortable.
Just as he was pondering over his problem, the object of his deliberations came into view. Carla was easily recognisable in the crowd as she chatted with the proprietors of the Tweedies Gully Winery out from Lyndoch. He’d heard they were about to diversify into growing lavender and selling lavender by-products; and to promote their future market they had a stall displaying the wares they intended to produce.
Like a magnet, Luke was drawn to Carla’s crown of red-gold hair. Approaching from behind he tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Hello.’
‘Luke.’ Carla’s smile faltered, became fixed. ‘I didn’t know you were a festival person.’
‘Mum dragged me along,’ he confessed though it wasn’t the complete truth. He’d come hoping to meet Carla, accidentally on purpose. Of late he was contriving to do that more often, trying to wear down her dislike of him. He didn’t know why he wanted to do so because it flew in the face of family expectations but he couldn’t help it. However, because Carla controlled her reactions whenever they were together he had no idea whether he was having any degree of success.
‘I saw Greta down by the cheese table.’
‘Mmm, my mother has what they call an excellent “nose and palate” for cheeses. She’s been a judge for years.’ He didn’t want to talk about his mother. ‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked, saying anything to prolong the conversation. By silent mutual consent, over the time she’d been in the Valley they disguised their mutual animosity when in public.
‘I love the atmosphere, the people, the costumes, the music. Everything. It’s as if a little bit of Germany has come to South Australia. Sam thinks it’s cool. He and Angie have gone off somewhere. I probably won’t see them till it’s time to go, or till he runs out of money.’
Taking the initiative, he asked, ‘Would you care for a coffee, or a wine?’
Her eyes lit with surprise at his invitation. ‘Coffee would be nice.’
They wandered towards one of several refreshment areas and Luke ordered for both of them.
‘So, things are going well at the vineyard?’
She gave him a wry look. ‘As if you don’
t know. Don’t you have spies everywhere?’
‘You might not believe me but, no, I don’t.’
She smiled as she said, ‘I’m pleased to hear that.’
How could he dismantle the wall of distrust she had built between them? And, more importantly, did he want to? Studying her covertly as she sipped her coffee, the answer wasn’t hard to come by. Yes. There was something special about Carla Hunter, and he had become more aware of it over several months. She, more than any other woman he currently knew or had known, sparked his interest. He admired her spirit, her rock-hard determination to prevail, the glimpses of wry humour, and most of all her ability to survive. A lesser woman would have given up the dream long ago and left but Carla hadn’t and he knew with fatalistic certainty that she wouldn’t. If he were honest with himself, his feeling towards her was beginning to run deeper than admiration.
‘By the way, congratulations on the gold medal award. It’s a feather in your vineyard’s cap,’ Luke said into the silence between them.
‘Thank you, but the success belongs to Angie.’ Carla gave credit where it was due. ‘She did the hard work. It was her expertise in timing the overall process and so on that got everything right.’
‘Perhaps, but you’ll both benefit from it.’
She gave him a look, a mixture of inquisitiveness and curiosity. ‘What did Grandfather say about it?’
Luke’s grin was cheeky as he countered, ‘Do you really want to know?’ His grandfather had been livid and voluble because, like Luke, Carl knew it would make her that much harder to shift.
She got the message and grinned back. ‘That bad! Well, it’s nice to know he hasn’t forgotten about me.’
‘I think you’ve managed to make yourself unforgettable, to the Stenmarks and many people in the Valley,’ Luke conceded.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment though I’m not sure it was meant as one.’
‘We’ve had our differences,’ he agreed, ‘but, Carla,’ he came to a momentous mental decision and, before he changed his mind, he rushed on. ‘I can’t talk for others, but in my case I would like us to be…friends. Do you think, considering the discord between us, that friendship is possible?’
Carla stared at him. Her blue eyes narrowed in disbelief at what she’d just heard. She gave her head a slight shake and pursed her lips thoughtfully as she deliberated. ‘That is a…novel idea.’ She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, ‘I’ve always held the opinion that nothing’s impossible if one wants it badly enough.’
Luke knew that she was referring to her dream of making Sundown Crossing successful. ‘I agree.’ His tone was sincere and he backed it up by putting his hand out to shake hers. ‘So, truce?’ Her sudden smile made him catch his breath and something hit him in the chest, reminiscent of what a kick by a horse might feel like, and with a certain degree of fatalism he knew his life would never be quite the same again.
She took his hand and shook it firmly. ‘Truce.’
‘Great.’ He held her hand for as long as was decent, and while he had her slightly bamboozled, he followed up with, ‘How about dinner one night, to celebrate a new beginning?’
‘Oh!’ Shock registered then was quickly hidden. ‘Yes. I think I’d like that.’
‘Good, I’ll call you.’
As if on cue, Sam ran up to them. In one hand he had a half-eaten stick of fairy floss, the other held a plastic bag bulging with goodies he had bought at different stalls. Angie came up behind him, putting her hands on his slim shoulders.
‘This young man has spent all his pocket money for this week and the next two weeks,’ Angie told Carla with a grin. She acknowledged Luke with a nod of her head as she sat down in an empty chair. ‘Sam wanted to look at everything, twice, I think! My feet are killing me.’
‘What you need is a revitalising cup of coffee,’ Luke said. ‘I’ll get you one then I’d better go find my mother. She should be just about ready to go home.’
Completing his chore and placing the coffee in front of Angie, and a lemonade at Sam’s place, Luke said his goodbyes and drifted off into the crowd.
‘He’s the last person I expected to see you sitting with,’ Angie couldn’t hold back the dry comment.
‘It’s no big deal. We met by accident. He asked me to have coffee with him and I accepted. We,’ she looked at her hands then at Angie, ‘we’ve come to a kind of truce, shook hands on it in fact.’
‘A truce?’
‘Yes. He said he wanted us to be friends.’ Carla rolled her eyes at the doubting look Angie gave her. ‘I know. He could be plotting something but,’ she considered what she’d said for a moment or two, ‘I don’t think so. I believe he’s genuine.’
‘Well, it’s an interesting development,’ Angie conceded. She took a sip of coffee before adding, ‘I guess that only time will tell if he really means it.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the privacy of his luxuriously appointed office in the Rhein Schloss building, Carl Stenmark opened the top right-hand drawer of his desk and withdrew a several weeks old copy of the community paper, the Barossa and Light Herald. He thumbed through to page four then put his glasses on and stared at the article; the page was dog-eared at the corners from being opened and closed so many times. He had read the article about Carla’s gold medal success so often that he practically knew the words off by heart.
His blue eyes narrowed, the wrinkles at the temples crinkling as he studied the coloured picture of the winemaker, Angie, and Carla. He blinked, looked away. So like Anna Louise. The resemblance to his long-dead wife was astonishing. The muscles in his throat tightened as memories of Anna Louise made him sink into a melancholy state, unable to turn his gaze away from the picture. Grudgingly, he could see a little of Rolfe in her too—the straight nose and the strong jawline were definitely Stenmark traits. The index finger of his right hand traced his granddaughter’s features, his gaze focusing on her eyes. Like his, they were a clear blue and her full, smiling lips, well, he could probably attribute them to her Italian mother.
He had seen her only once, in the restaurant, but since then she had periodically haunted his dreams, as well as disturbed many of his waking hours and, try as he might not to, he found himself thinking about his granddaughter too often. His head of thick, white hair gave a little shake. She continued to confound and in her own way, confront him just by remaining in the Valley. He made a growling sound in his throat as he drummed his fingers on the desktop. There was no doubting her strength of character and her resolve, they showed in her features and had become doubly evident due to her determination to make a go of her father’s vineyard. He growled again. Carla’s stubbornness was so like his Anna Louise and his younger son, the son he tried, even now, not to think about.
Thoughts of Rolfe brought back the disappointment, the pain, of the loss of his favourite son. Ah, yes, he was old enough to admit if only to himself that Kurt had been the favoured one—the one expected to and groomed to succeed him. Anna Louise had often scolded him over his preference for his more amenable elder son, that it wasn’t right or fair. Perhaps she had been correct. If he hadn’t been so one-eyed, things might have been different.
Ah, if. Such a little word, and how he hated it. If he’d treated both sons the same, if Rolfe had admitted his guilt over seducing Marta, if Kurt hadn’t been driving like a madman…pah! ‘If’ changed nothing. Angry with himself he closed the pages of the paper, folded it up and looked at the rubbish bin at the side of his desk but…somehow…he knew he couldn’t discard it. Not yet.
He forced his thoughts away from Carla and on to Luke. Thank goodness for his grandson. Luke was a worthy contender to one day run Rhein Schloss. Possibly in the not-too-distant future either. Carl was getting tired and arthritic, feeling his eighty-three years more with every passing day. Lisel was not suitable. With her flighty ways, her inability to hold a man and, being over forty, there was even little likelihood that she would provide him with more grandchildren. Occasionally
he despaired over his youngest child. Her peculiar mother-hen possessiveness towards Luke, the growing antipathy between herself and Greta. He had spoiled her rotten since his wife’s death, and the result was a self-absorbed woman who cared only for herself and her own pleasures. Oh, yes, the family didn’t think he knew of her liaisons but he did. People talked and sometimes he overheard whisperings and intercepted looks of commiseration. He knew! But on the bright side, one day Luke would marry and provide the all-important ongoing line of inheritance. Carl sighed, made content by that thought.
He glanced at the clock on the wall over the well-stocked cocktail bar. Almost 3.30 pm. Tired of looking at four walls, of reading and signing paperwork, he would get to the bottom of his intray then call Felix, his driver, to take him home.
The drive from Rhein Schloss’s head office to Stenhaus was not a long one but the route took the Mercedes and its occupants past a playing field where junior football teams were training after school. Normally Carl didn’t give the children in their jerseys and football boots a second glance but today he studied them closely, trying to find just one. He did. Sitting with two other boys on the grass, near the kerb, on the other side of the road, with his school backpack and another bag for his sporting gear, was Sam Hunter.
The Mercedes sped past and Carl’s head swivelled half around, his eyes glued to the ginger-haired boy. ‘Stop the car, Felix,’ he ordered, ‘and back up to the playing field.’
Felix obliged without hesitation and within seconds the powerful sedan came to a halt close to where the three boys sat. For perhaps two or three minutes, Carl stared at the boys, but he was only interested in one, his great-grandson.
An unaccustomed well of emotion invaded his body as he watched Sam. The boys, obviously waiting to be picked up, sat cross-legged on the grass, passing a football to each other. All at once his mind took him back many years, to Kurt learning to play rugby as a young boy. He had been good, better than good. And then, before he realised what he was doing Carl was getting out of the car and walking across the road to the boys.
Sundown Crossing Page 22
