Cabernet Zin (The Southern California Wine Country Series)

by J Gordon Smith

  Lydia cut the rest of her onion. Her tears surged like breakers until she couldn’t see through the blurring deluge. She dropped the knife to the cutting board and sank to the floor behind the kitchen cabinets.

  A black despair oozed through her veins. Anger and wrath that helped her cope with the struggles of her life had driven away the fragile things she desired – her existence displaced by loneliness and despondency.

  What had she done?

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  Claire tugged her phone from her jeans pocket, “Hello, Tyler.”

  “The hospital called. Dad died a few minutes ago.”

  The hard edge of the kitchen counter caught her as she tipped back, her hand catching the side of it to steady herself.

  “What’s wrong?” Leiko asked from the kitchen table.

  Claire propped herself up with her hand, she knew this could come at any time, but it still smacked her with emotion, “I’ll meet you there. I’m at Dad’s.” Claire watched Leiko stand and search for her car keys. “You’re going?”

  “No. I’m driving you. I can see your face. You can’t drive.”

  “We’ve known each other too long.” Claire looked around the living room. Her father kept almost nothing. He had the television, his chair, the couch, and the little shelf on the wall with the family photo album. Just one. They didn’t take many pictures in the family. Too painful probably. Claire pulled the book off the shelf and hugged it, her father was permanently gone. She argued with him at their last meeting. Grief held her. She could never talk with him again.

  Leiko followed Claire to the car. She knew the way and thankfully did not pester Claire with mundane conversation. Claire cinched her seat belt until the strap was tight enough to hold her into this world. Claire clutched the photo album as they drove silently toward the hospital. She slowly opened the cover and looked through pictures of the family she hadn’t looked at in years. Faded photographs from the seventies and eighties of her parents. Later pictures of her, her sister, and her brother doing kid things. Her father laughing. That’s what she remembered. She could hear his laughter from long ago when they were happy and together – it helped push away the pain of the growing sadness and pain. A few pictures of her father leading his Finance lectures at the college where he worked. Older ones with double high blackboards that flew up as he filled them with math, economics, and stock trading concepts. A few pictures of the white boards and markers and then his last years of work using electronic boards run by a computer system. A pair of pages for each of his children traced pictures from their earliest swaddled bundles through school, their graduation, and into adulthood.

  The last page of the album held a piece of paper folded neatly with her name on it and dated from a month or two ago.

  “Claire, I placed this note in the photo album because it might be something you look at sooner rather than later. I wanted to write you a last note while I still can – still it has taken me days to finish since my window of clear thought pinches shut so quickly now. The air is blowing through that crack in the wall faster and faster each time the gap gets narrower – I can hear it whistling as the last few breaths squeeze out. I know you are falling for Zack – I can see how your face lights up thinking of him – I’ve told you my misgivings but not the reason. Your heart will want what your heart wants. While you’ve only known austerity and seen how I lived frugally, I have been fortunate to use the skills I taught my university students to increase my wealth. I did the research and managed over a lifetime to be well placed during the good times and sat protected ahead of the bad times by watching for the signs. Study my ledgers and you’ll see my notes. You’ve also had the training I taught you over a lifetime. Like things my father taught me, I didn’t realize he had passed to me until much later – often in the small moments, probably ones I never realized at the time. You will find the small ideas and mechanisms of thought I built up in you over our years together. My suggestions to keep your operating costs low so your wealth can accumulate. Methods I used to make my small savings grow to something substantial. Be mindful of any entanglements introduced to you by this new man. I worked hard my whole life, saved carefully, and invested wisely. So be protective of the money you will have upon my passing. I positioned an account for each of you and your siblings with your names on them. I urge you require that any suitor sign a prenuptial agreement when you get that far in your relationship. You may think it brazen but you will be surprised at the substantive nature of my holdings, and now your holdings. Wealth is freedom. I hope that you avoid using it for frivolous things like a half drunk lottery winner lusting for new cars and homes that wash their money through their fingers as fast as it appears. Find something meaningful to do with the money. Remember our times together. I have been so very proud of you your whole life.”

  Claire’s eyes blurred too much for her to read his signature at the bottom. Her fingers touched the coarse surface of the writing. She traced the impressions of his emotions gouged into the paper, dashed with the long strokes he wrote when rushed, but deep with passion and the weight of love for her. She closed the book and hugged it tight against her chest as the car carried her floating along the smooth river of the road. The trees blurred beyond the gravel strips along the blacktop streets, their dark branches merging into a mist beyond her thoughts.

  Claire continued flowing through the days that followed like a boat pushed on a glassy lake barely breaking its mirror sheen. The hospital had regular processes for such a death, the funeral home had their systems, the lawyer office mechanically distributed the will, and the cemetery had a burial process. Her father was lowered into the ground by ratcheting pulleys and cranks. Dirt cast. More words. Then the process was done. Her father now lay in a little hill that looked over a lush valley reaching back from the sea. Peaceful.

  Claire floated numb. She remembered her sister and brother’s elation with the money their father gave them, set up in trusts from which they could only draw monthly distributions. Claire’s endowment was the only one that her father gave without restriction, but the lawyer was discrete in telling her this.

  Claire kept the photo album nearby. The rest of the house Tyler emptied of the furnishings, such that her father had kept, improving his place over the crumbling contraptions of broken furniture he owned; and they sold the house. Even with the sickening economy in the rest of the nation, the housing market in the suburb her father had invested in remained in high demand. His house sold within days and closed in just a few more – a hotly desired area with a solid stream of bidders that ran the price up to shocking levels. The tax attorney appeared a few times to tidy her father’s affairs.

  Claire scanned her father’s ledger books and his old tax returns. Her quick glance with an eye trained by her business degree showed the amazing story of what he had done. She saw notes he wrote to her in the margins, times when he had her do paper trades while he placed real bets on the major corporations she loved for the products they made. She cried again, finding her tissue box empty. Her father had really taught her so much in those small moments of their lives – she never realized. Not like sitting her in a room with five hundred other students and the big blackboards and his jacket smudged with chalk. He taught during the ride in the car, pointing out the sign of a new retail store going up, and discussing the investment required. Which made her think of Zack’s investment in the startup winery. She put the ledgers and the photo album aside. She wanted to see Zack. She missed him. Needed his voice close. Maybe he could help fill the missing hole in her heart. Smooth away the pain. The calendar showed only a few days before he would again appear on the West Coast.

  Chapter 24

  December

  Amanda stood on the steps of Zack’s rented shack, “You could have found a babysitter out here.” The evening temperature cooled as the sun disappeared.

  Zack listened to his children playing in the yard with a soccer ball. “The kids know you and trust you – I trust you aro
und the kids. They’ve had so many other changes that it’s helpful to have you here. You might like the warmer weather better as this place gets closer to spring.”

  “Are you kidding? Look at this weather. Back home my Mom is still digging out from new snow that came while I flew out here.”

  “It might be a stay of a month or two.”

  “I’m thinking I could stay longer if I can find my own apartment and a job out here. Soon I can work on my tan,” she spun around in the golden red sunlight arcing across the horizon.

  “Yes, you could. You can stay longer too. The kids actually like their bunk beds which leaves that bedroom you’re in open. With the weather changes this spring I’ll bet you can lay out a couple of months earlier than the native Californians.”

  Amanda laughed, “That will be fun.” Then she said, “I keyed Nicholas’ car and punctured his front tires before I left.”

  “That’s not right.”

  “He won’t screw with me again. He was a creep, not only what he did with you but around me too.”

  “I agree – a creep.” Zack had a sip of his wine, a recent blend he hadn’t determined how to balance. Just needed a tweak of something and he hoped for his muse. He hoped for Claire.

  Zack’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered, “Hello, Harold.” He set his wine down. Not the muse he hoped to hear from. He hit the speaker and dropped the phone to the little side table. He did not feel like crushing it against his ear.

  “Zack, we’ve got a big problem with our Mexican supplier and our customer, Azure Motors. I could really use your help. Gus is struggling. Are you available?”

  Zack sucked on his wine, and then said, “You know, firing me lead to my divorce.”

  “Work never does that.”

  “You spend eight to twelve hours a day on work – it is your life, you bleed for it.”

  “Zack, what work are you doing now? Can you help for old time’s sake? If not for me, then for Gus?”

  “Not now. I’m still wrapping up all the details after the divorce was finalized. The holidays are ahead and your customer’s offices will be closed until the new year anyway. I have my kids now all the time and I am keeping my business going.”

  “What business is that?”

  “The winery. Traffic is picking up. I just don’t have time. Sorry. Wish I could help at the moment.”

  “How about after the first of the year? Budgets will be better again too, so we can pay more regularly and increase your fees.”

  “If things work out, sure. I’ll need to be part-time and telecommute, so keep that in mind.”

  “Sure, thanks Zack.”

  Zack pressed off his phone and returned it to his pocket. He said to Amanda, “They seem to miss me now that I’m gone. I’ll give a call to my friend Juk in Asia after the holidays and help them out.” He watched Noah kick the soccer ball to Grace. Amanda saw the scowl on his face. Then he said, “Maybe I should just call Juk now.” His retrieved his phone, noted the time zone differences, and dialed Juk. “Hey, the guys in Mexico are running into a problem on timing and the scrap level off their production-intent die is way too high. … Yes, that’s it. … Run that test again but increase the test load by twenty percent. Yes. Drop the frequency by a hundred hertz. … Yes, that radius is the concern. … See, you know where I’m taking the changes. Have a good day, Juk. Yep, Thanks.”

  Amanda asked, “So what was the problem?”

  “The usual. They set the test up incorrectly, loads were too low, and the design performed fine in the beginning. Now they can’t understand why the design breaks under the customer’s test cycle. The changes I suggested to Juk will force failures earlier so they can iterate the design cycle and get to production with parts that more than pass the intended customer requirements.”

  “That’s pretty amazing you worked through the problem like that.”

  “That’s what a few years of industry experience teaches. I saw that part sitting on Gus’ desk the day they fired me. The bend radius was way too sharp and it would never pass the fatigue tests. Guess I was right – but I was pissed then.”

  “It’s like you punctured their tire.” Amanda giggled. “I’d still be mad.”

  “No. I just didn’t volunteer information they decided against paying for.”

  “Still, I wouldn’t have made that call to Asia even now.”

  “I’m moving on,” Zack nodded his head, taking another sip of his wine. He thought of Claire. The wine could use her muse. He really needed her muse.

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  Zack gripped the trellis wire with the tension wrench and pulled the jaws together. His chest and arms compressed. He cinched the wire tight. He straightened up and saw someone enter the row he worked in, too far away to determine who, other than the curves of a woman in a skirt. He dropped his tension gauge into his pocket and leaned the wrench against the nearest trellis post. He saw Claire’s stride, wearing heals but not sinking into the vineyard dirt. “Wedges,” he remembered. He already stepped quickly toward her. They met and he scooped her into his arms and hugged her, kissing her as hard as if the world had ended.

  Claire broke from his lips, “I stopped at the house and Amanda said you were here, though I should have guessed.”

  “I’ve missed you. How are you?”

  Claire shrugged, “Getting to recovery. Just moments now that I forget to keep busy and remember some task or event that triggers memories.” She kissed him again, her fingers running against the short hairs behind his ear, cinching him tighter. She whispered against his cheek, “I’ve missed you too.”

  “What do you have planned for dinner?” Zack stepped back before his body resented separating, “I need to finish tensioning these rows and remove last season’s slack from the stretched wires. How about another picnic dinner?” He wanted to add that he couldn’t, and didn’t want, to forget the images of her next to him. “It’s the middle of the week and off season for weddings so we only have to contend with the chill night air.”

  Claire smiled, “I really liked the last picnic.” She ran her hands through her hair and the strands fluttered across her skin in the light breeze busy teasing her matching small print skirt. “I’ll get our provisions and be back. If I’m here before you finish – I can watch you work.” she scooped her eyes into his and rested her hand against his bicep.

  “You mean you’ll distract me until I finish.” His eyes slipped from her face and down her chest, hips, and legs. His eyes came back to her face finding her biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth, a grin spreading across her face.

  She spun around, “Or something like that,” her laugh bubbled like an unconstrained brook as she walked toward her car at the winery.

  Zack watched her body move away from him until she left the edge of the vineyard. He turned back up the row where he stopped repairing the wires. He called Amanda. “Yeah, I’ll be out with Claire. I hope late. Why don’t you order a pizza for the kids – you’ll be their hero tonight.” Zack returned his phone to his pocket and returned to his work. He carried a little box in his pocket for a couple of weeks now hoping Claire would return to him.

  -:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

  “You’ve kept sleeping bags in your car?”

  “You didn’t see them in the trunk when you worked on the car?”

  “No. The engine is up in the front. If it were my car I might have a couple of parts or a wrench there but I didn’t expect you did.”

  “I’ve had them in there since our last picnic … just in case.” Her eyes curled at the outer edges, “And some blankets.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her, “That’s a pleasant thought. The electric lamp is a nice touch.”

  “It glows like an old kerosene lamp, doesn’t it?” Their picnic ended as dusk shaded the vineyards and the cool ocean air swept up the valley. They huddled together under the two sleeping bags zipped together. She shivered but hugged him for warmth and kissed his lip. Zack broke
their embrace and got out.

  “Aren’t you freezing with just a T-shirt and your boxers on?” Claire leaned up on her elbow, watching him. Her hair fell over and partly covered the bra strap that made a thin dark line across her shoulder.

  Zack searched his pants pockets that lay on the ground.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Got it,” he palmed whatever it was and then Zack reached for her hand and pulled her up to her knees. The air was cool on her shoulders; the blanket wrapped around her hips accentuated her beauty. The fog huddled around the base of their hill and swirled in a light touch upon the vines. The white vapors floated lightly around them like happy, furry, bounding animals. Zack saw how Claire glowed from the overhead spotlight showered down upon them from the moon and stars that punctured the far away dome of the world.

  “Claire,” Zack knelt before her. He brought up his hand and between his fingers, he held a diamond ring that sparkled as bright as the stars. “Claire. I love you more than I have ever loved a woman.” Her eyes looked deep into his, he watched them tear and his voice cracked as emotion surged through his heart, “Claire … will you marry me?”

  Claire’s hands came to his face, her fingers rushing around his head, drawing him close, her lips smiling, “Yes. Yes I will marry you Zack.” She drew them together in a kiss and then broke away, “You better put that ring on me.” She splayed her polished fingertips. Zack slipped the ring over her finger, breathing relief that it slid on as smooth as Cinderella’s slipper. Her face glowed with a smile that seemed to warm her like a campfire at the beginning of time, love that reflected warmth in him. He cupped his hands against her jaw and pulled her lips to his.