Divide and Concord

by J. C. Eaton

  • • •

  What she didn’t tell me was what a pain in the neck they would be. Beginning with their demands for Fred and Emma. The first thing Stefan Olinguard, the director’s assistant, did when he and cameraman Skylar Randall walked into the tasting room on Wednesday was to hand Fred and Emma a detailed list of the director’s dietary needs. Gluten-free, plant-based, and organic. “Devora’s extremely particular about what goes into her body,” Stefan said. I had just walked him to the bistro and introduced him to our chefs.

  Fred perused the list and folded it. “I’m sure she’ll be fine with our menu.” He went on to explain about our omelets, paninis, and salads but got cut off by Stefan, who expounded on Devora Dobrowski’s demands. “There must be stores that specialize in organic and gluten-free foods in Penn Yan.”

  I all but choked. “Penn Yan specializes in bacon, sausage, pancakes, eggs, and chicken-fried steak. Oh, and submarine sandwiches, too.”

  Stefan froze.

  “We’re not Toronto,” I continued, “but I’m sure Fred and Emma can see what Wegmans in Geneva has so Ms. Dobrowski won’t wither away. For your information, Wegmans is more than a supermarket. It’s a culinary experience.”

  Thanks for the heads-up, Renee. I didn’t know we had to feed them while they’re filming.

  Stefan brushed some strands of his wispy blond hair from his forehead and nodded. “I suppose that will do.”

  Emma, who hadn’t said a word up until that moment, smiled at Stefan. “And do you have any special dietary requirements?”

  “I prefer whole grains and I avoid sugar, but that’s about it. I have a naturally thin frame and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “And you?” she asked the cameraman.

  Skylar, who looked as if he bench-pressed weights for fun, replied, “Pizza, meatballs, spaghetti, burgers, and nachos.”

  I did a mental eye roll, thanked Fred and Emma, and ushered the two film crew members out of there and into the tasting room. “Listen, we’ll try to accommodate you as best we can but we’re running a business here and that’s our priority. So, I suppose you want to check out the vineyards and select a location spot. Correct?”

  “Yep, that’s exactly what we need to do.”

  “Fine. Give me a minute to grab a jacket from my office and I’ll show you around.”

  I was familiar with Devora Dobrowski’s reputation as a film director but had never met her. After hearing her dietary requirements, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Then, when Stefan mentioned the need to shop for Egyptian cotton sheets, preferably from Giza, because the Ramada Inn couldn’t verify where theirs were from, I was positive I didn’t want to meet her. Unfortunately, avoiding her wouldn’t be an option.

  “The vineyard is sectioned off by variety. Some grapes do better closer to the lake while others are fine farther up the slope,” I said as we neared the Merlot grapevines. “This time of year, it’s impossible to tell which grape is which because the vines haven’t come into bloom. Of course, the vineyard is just going to be a backdrop for the characters so it really doesn’t matter.”

  “Uh-huh.” Skylar looked around as if he planned on purchasing the property, not filming it. “We’ll need the view of the lake. We can do a panoramic sweep and then focus on the paths in between the vines where Priscilla and Gavin walk.”

  “As long as you make sure no equipment winds up anywhere but on those paths.” I don’t know why, but I got edgy. I was probably being silly and overreacting in terms of protecting our vineyard, but I had an off feeling about the project and I couldn’t quite explain it.

  Not wanting to make Stefan and Skylar think I was babysitting them, I pointed out our property lines and told them they were free to wander about in order to select the spot they needed for filming. I told them they needed to let us know ASAP so we could cordon the area off. And plant Marc and Enzo next to it.

  “Remember,” I said, “the barn and the winery lab are completely off-limits, but if, for some reason, Devora wants to shoot a scene in the tasting room, let us know.”

  Of course, that would mean a rewrite on my part, but I was used to that sort of thing.

  “Sounds good,” Stefan said. “We’ll be back in the afternoon to see what the lighting is like at that time of day. Then early-early tomorrow.” I had no idea what “early-early” meant, but as long as they didn’t pound on my door before nine, I was good with it.

  According to Robbie Jensen and Travis O’Neil, our vineyard workers, who got stuck feeding Alvin and adding fresh hay to his pen, Stefan and Skylar spent lots of time scoping out our vineyard in the two days that followed. They drove in and out, parking their car in the far corner of our lot and traipsing about the vineyard like future proprietors.

  “At least they steered clear of our workers. But boy, can their voices carry,” Travis said.

  I noticed he had gotten a haircut and the day-old stubble around his face was gone. Same deal with Robbie. I figured the two twenty-something guys, as well as Sam, were counting on meeting Priscilla McCoy. Meanwhile, I was counting the hours until doomsday was over.

  Chapter 4

  “That Devora lady must be a real pain in the butt,” Robbie added. “One of the guys said he’d like to shove a cantaloupe down her throat the next time she opens her mouth, and the other one said he’d like to see her facedown somewhere with no means to get up.”

  I was flabbergasted. The last thing we needed was a temperamental diva directing a scene in our vineyard.

  “Did they say anything else about her?”

  The guys shook their heads. “Not directly,” Travis said, “only that one of them told the other he shouldn’t be putting up with all her crap.”

  Nope. We’ll be the ones putting up with it.

  I shared my frustrations with Bradley Jamison, the hunky lawyer I was dating, when we had dinner the Friday night prior to the Wine and Cheese Festival. I’d met Bradley a few months ago via Rosalee Marbleton when one of her workers was accused of murder.

  “I’ll try to get over to your winery sometime tomorrow,” he said, “that is, if Marvin doesn’t bury me in paperwork. He’s been a bear the past few weeks.”

  Marvin Souza was a fixture in the Finger Lakes, a seasoned attorney with more connections to people and institutions than most senators. I always thought he resembled Hal Holbrook but with bushier eyebrows. Their firm specialized in family law from wills and codicils to divorces and alimony.

  “Please don’t tell me you plan on ogling Priscilla McCoy because you’ll have to take a number.”

  Bradley leaned across the table and grasped my wrists. His cobalt blue eyes were eye to eye with mine. “Nah, the only one I want to ogle is you.” Then he winked and let go of my wrists.

  • • •

  I awoke at five the next morning with a nervous energy surging through my body. I’d come out of a dead sleep more wide awake than I could ever remember. Charlie bounded off the bed and charged downstairs. Since it wasn’t hunting season, his doggie door was open and I was pretty sure he raced out to do his business.

  I washed, threw on a sweatshirt and jeans and made my way to the kitchen. He was already staring at his empty dog dish when I got there. I remedied that with a mound of kibble. Twenty minutes later, with a full cup of coffee and a bowl of Cheerios in my system, I took a shower and dressed for the day.

  The Wine and Cheese event had a start time of ten but I had no idea what time the film crew would arrive. I prayed they’d inconspicuously park at the far end of our lot and disappear somewhere on the hill. So much for wishful thinking.

  When I got downstairs and looked out the front window, I was stunned. The parking lot looked like Costco before Christmas and people were all over the road/driveway. Only Fred and Emma would be in the building, and if they were smart, they’d barricade themselves.

  My hands shook as I ran for the landline and called John Grishner. Before he could utter a word, I shouted, “People are all over the road. Everywhere.
How fast can you get here? Wake up your crew. Can we get anyone else’s crew to help? My God, John, they’re like locusts in a cornfield.”

  “Whoa. Slow down, Norrie. I was on my way out the door when you called. We always arrive between six and seven. I’ll call over to Terrace and Gable Hill and stop by the Grey Egret. See if any of those guys can give us a hand. This time of year is impossible but we’ll give it a try. What about off-duty EMTs? I’ve got Penn Yan’s number if you need it.”

  “It’s right here on the wall. Francine wrote everyone’s number. I’ll call them.”

  My next call was to Cammy since Marc and Enzo had already agreed to do guard duty. She promised she’d “wake up those two buggers and get them over here pronto.” She also said she’d hurry over as well and notify the tasting room crew.

  Ralphie at the EMT dispatch said he’d make a few calls and see what he could do. I promised him the men and women would be compensated for their time. I also promised to make a donation. Get out your checkbook, Renee.

  Not wanting Charlie to risk getting run over by a crazed fan in a fast-moving car, I closed off the doggie door and left him in the house. Then I bolted for the winery building. I must have set a record for speed walking.

  Sure enough, I spotted a black van with a Canadian license plate. It was parked on the side of our lot, close to the road. As I approached, I saw the film company’s logo. From that vantage point, it was impossible to tell where in the vineyards they could be shooting the scene. The only thing I remembered were the words panoramic sweep. They had to be uphill yet I didn’t notice anyone on my way down.

  Figuring they may have pounded on the winery door and been let inside the building by Fred or Emma, I did the same. Only I had a key.

  “Fred! Emma!” I yelled when I got inside. “Have you seen the film crew?”

  “Hell, yes!” It was Fred’s voice and it was louder than usual.

  I rushed to the bistro and was almost out of breath. “Where are they? Where’d they go?”

  Emma, who was cracking eggs in a bowl, stopped for a minute. “Stefan was in here about a half hour ago with a different cameraman. He asked if we had Perrier water and when I told him we only had Fiji, he all but had a panic attack. Said something about Devora not wanting Fiji. The cameraman laughed and suggested tap water but Stefan wasn’t amused. We sent him to Wegmans.”

  “What about the rest of their crew? Did they indicate where they’d be filming?”

  “It was only the camera guys and Stefan. Devora and the actors won’t be here for another hour. The camera crew needed to lay up the shots. Or something like that.”

  “Dear God.” I tried to take slow, deep breaths. “Did you see that crowd out there?”

  Emma shook her head. “We got here at four thirty. Even Alvin was asleep in his little house. We’ve got to get the cheese dish ready as well as the regular bistro stuff.”

  “Hmm, if Stefan went to Wegmans and the rest of the crew won’t be here for an hour, then whose van is parked in our lot?” I asked.

  “It’s the equipment van,” Fred said. “They took three cars. According to the cameraman, the video engineer, who also handles the sound, is in that van getting things set up.”

  I sighed. “Okay, I’m going outside to play crowd control until backup arrives. Don’t let anyone in unless you know who it is.”

  “Yes, Mom.” Fred laughed.

  The next three hours gave new meaning to the words frantic and frenetic. In addition to help from the Grey Egret and the handful of vineyard guys from Rosalee’s and Stephanie’s wineries that John managed to rope in, Ralphie from the Penn Yan EMTs said he’d make it as soon as his shift was over. He was also able to commandeer four thirty-something men and one woman who was close to my mother’s age. I had them positioned up and down the road, along with Marc and Enzo, with the directive, “Don’t let them step foot in the vineyards.”

  Bravo for that. When our doors opened at nine, the ticket holders for Wine and Cheese were more interested in Priscilla McCoy and Gavin Chase than our Southwestern Mac and Cheese paired with Chardonnay. We were flooded with questions.

  “Is Miss McCoy in this room? Where?”

  “Does the movie need any extras?”

  “Will Priscilla and Gavin be signing autographs?”

  Then, the unspeakable happened. Devora Dobrowski made her entrance into the Two Witches tasting room like Cruella de Vil. The only thing missing was a cigarette holder. She was tall with an angular face and layered black hair with one white streak that framed the left side of her face. Her complexion was pale and in the back of my mind all I could think of was, “Nothing a Big Mac couldn’t cure.” Her tortoiseshell wingtip glasses, complete with jeweled rims, completed the look.

  I was standing by the counter chatting with Lizzie when Devora approached us and announced, “The noise level in the vineyards is interfering with our filming. My actors can’t concentrate. You’ll need to dispense with this crowd. Direct me to the person in charge.”

  “Um, that would be me. Norrie Ellington. I’m also the screenwriter.”

  She eyeballed me as if she was about to pick lint from my sweater. “That would explain a great deal. Now then, when can I expect the crowd to dissipate?”

  “At five. That’s when the event officially ends for the day. Of course, the winery will remain open until five thirty. Same deal tomorrow. It’s a two-day event.”

  Devora lifted her head and sniffed the air. “I smell cheese. Cheese is horrible for the body. It causes mucus.”

  I felt my face get warm. “It happens to pair nicely with wines, and for your information, these events are what help us stay in business.”

  “Well, you won’t be staying in business as a screenwriter if you don’t do something about this unwieldy mob.”

  I gulped. “Please don’t tell me you’re threatening me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Threatening you? Of course not. Only your place in the industry.”

  “That’s unconscionable.” I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was apparently yelling. So loud, in fact, that a small crowd gathered around us. “If anything, you’re the one who needs to worry.”

  With that, I stormed off, went into my office and slammed the door. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I worried that I’d really screwed up. I counted to twenty-five, took a breath, and sat at my desk.

  “You’re the one who needs to worry.” I didn’t even know what I was saying.

  At that moment, I heard a knock on my door.

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  I recognized the voice. It was Lizzie. She was impeccably dressed in a long mauve skirt with a white frilly top that matched her grayish white hair.

  “I’m fine. Annoyed, but fine.” I opened the door and looked around. “Did the she-demon leave?” I asked.

  “If you’re referring to the lady with the strange hair and unpleasant disposition, the answer is yes.”

  “That was Devora Dobrowski, the director for the movie they’re filming.”

  “No wonder all those Hollywood stars get divorced. They have such volatile temperaments.”

  “I suppose I should try to smooth things over later today,” I said. Then I took a breath. “Much later.”

  With that, I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside. The road crowd had diminished by quite a bit thanks to the cavalry I’d called in. I really owed them. When I stepped back inside the tasting room, I asked Fred to make sandwiches for everyone. Sam, who was dying to get a glimpse of Priscilla, offered to bring them to the workers, insisting Glenda could cover his tasting room table as well. I agreed and had him take sodas to the workers as well.

  Four hours later, with the Wine and Cheese event in full force, we were privy to another grand entrance from someone in the movie production. This time it was none other than Priscilla McCoy herself.

  With a sea of fans surrounding her, she flew into the tasting room and all but hyperventilated. Her ash-blond hair flowed
past her neck, draping her shoulders in perfect curls. She had cinched the belt of her tan winter coat, showing off her tiny waist and accentuating the rest of her body. No wonder Sam was so enamored. “I hate that witch!” she cried. “I absolutely hate, abhor, and despise her. I wish she’d drop dead.”

  At that moment, the glass Glenda was holding slipped out of her hands and fell to the floor. She looked down and then straight at me. “Let me call Zenora. We need to do a sage stick smudging of the winery tonight. There’s far too much negative energy.”

  I bent down, grabbed a towel from her table, and helped her pick up the large shards of glass. “The negative energy will be back in Toronto by midweek.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that, Norrie,” she said. “A negative aura, like the one we all witnessed, can manifest itself in many ways.”

  Yep, leave it to Glenda to hit the nail on the head.

  Chapter 5

  By now, Priscilla was engulfed in a crowd of fans. I motioned for Glenda to get back to her table and then rushed over to Priscilla. “Step aside, please,” I announced to the crowd. “Winery business.” Then I took her elbow and ushered her into my office. “I’m Norrie. The owner. Well, part owner. Hurry up before there’s a stampede.”

  “I guess I don’t need an introduction,” Priscilla said, “just a reprieve from Devora. That woman’s impossible. ‘Take slower steps. Not that slow. Move with urgency and reflection.’ Tell me, how can someone move slow and fast at the same time? When I asked her what she meant, she called me a ‘moronic piece of fluff.’ That’s when I stormed off and came here.”