Chapter 3
Jansen
W hat in the French-fried fuck am I doing here?
Carrying a thermal mug of coffee, I stroll from the house toward the vineyard, with my dog guest running around wildly sniffing everything he can. Somehow I ended up with this mutt last week when I found him on the property, matted and dirty, thin, with sad eyes. And only one ear. When I tried to coax him nearer to me, he didn’t even stand on his scrawny legs, just crawled, inching closer on his belly. And when I picked him up, he was shaking. I hated that.
I took him to the vet where Ana works. I expected to leave him there, but they couldn’t find his owners. I should have taken him to a shelter. But I couldn’t do it. So after paying the outrageous vet bill (I should have bought a veterinary clinic, not a winery), I brought him home. Just until someone claims him. He’s a scruffy mutt, some kind of Jack Russell terrier mix, so I’ve been calling him Jack.
I’ve never had a dog. I don’t know much about dogs, how to train them, what to feed them. We’re in the middle of harvest, a crazy time of year. This is not the time to be getting a dog. People already think I’m unhinged for buying this winery.
Early morning fog shrouds the hills with a pale glow as the sun rises behind them. From here I can see the neat rows of vines climbing the hill in shades of green and gold, their curves mirroring the undulations of the land. It’s pretty goddamn amazing.
This place is mine and I have no clue what I’m doing.
After I retired from the league, I bummed around for months trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I was a pro hockey player, but I’m not cut out for jobs in broadcasting. I’m not a coach. I have a bunch of college courses in business, but I took those years ago and I couldn’t figure out what I could do with them.
Adjusting to retirement is hard for a lot of people, but for me it was excruciating. Giving up a career you still love isn’t easy. At first, I thought I’d have a whole new life of freedom and fun, but instead I was lonely, lost, and surly.
Then my wife cheated on me.
That fucked with my head and for a long time I didn’t care about doing anything. Even getting out of bed.
Luckily I have a couple of good buddies who knocked some sense into me, got me to a doctor, got me back working out, and eventually sat me down to talk about my future. I wanted to stay in California after playing for years with the Long Beach Golden Eagles. Although maybe as a city guy, I should have stayed in L.A. This rural setting is alien to me.
And I got this crazy idea to make wine.
“Jack! Hey buddy! Get back here!”
He’s getting a little too adventurous, which is probably what got him lost. I give a shrill whistle, and he comes trotting back on his short legs, tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Good boy.” I bend and rub his head.
I got interested in wine a few years ago when a bunch of friends and I went to a wine festival in Long Beach. I thought it was pretentious and snobby and I rolled my eyes at how they described the wines when they poured them. But then I tasted a couple that were pretty amazing. I found myself seeking out the different tasting notes, curious about the differences between wines. I wanted to learn more. I took courses. I started making wine at home.
I lean on the fence, one foot on the lower railing, and sip my coffee as I gaze out at the landscape, at the layer of fog hanging in the air. I fill my lungs with the cool, damp air.
This was kind of a wild impulse. When I said I wanted to own a winery, my sensible friends thought I’d lost my mind. My family thought I was bonkers, too, but I’m used to them being critical of what I do. When I played hockey as a kid, they were on me all the time, pushing me to practice harder, putting me into hockey camps, pointing out how good other players were. So I didn’t expect them to think this is a genius idea.
Yeah, it was insane. Take Flight wasn’t the first winery for sale that I looked at, but to be honest, I only looked at a couple others. This one felt right. It’s small but with a quality reputation. It has amazing views and a nice tasting room, also a house on the property where I now live, which is way too big for a single guy, and needs updating, but for now it’s fine. I quickly learned about yield per acre and price per ton. I bought the winery without telling anyone. Like I said, they think I’ve lost my mind.
Finally I have something I’m excited to get out of bed in the morning for. Something that’s mine. A purpose in life. Something I can accomplish without skates and a stick.
I hope.
I take another mouthful of coffee, dark and rich, still surveying my estate. Hell yeah. I have an estate.
I’d laugh at my cockiness, but I don’t laugh much anymore.
That reminds me of last night.
I was walking down the sidewalk, slowing as I approached the Golden Cougar, and out of nowhere that woman asked me if she’d look sexy in that slip thing in the window.
At first I was taken aback, but she’d been so embarrassed that I’d been amused.
Not to mention a little intrigued as I pictured her in skimpy purple silk.
Oh hell yeah. Sexy as fuck.
She was hot even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, her dark hair cut in shaggy layers, bangs hanging over rich brown eyes with glints of copper, her mouth a little wide and tilted up at the corners.
She’s friends with Ana and Millie, who I first met at a Cuban music event at El Castillo, a winery not far from here set in a stone castle. I barely know anyone in town other than the people who work for me, but I went with my buddies who came to visit and we got talking to Ana and Millie’s partners, and they introduced us to a few other people. They were all friendly enough, but clearly think a hockey player buying a winery is nuts. That’s okay. My family and friends think so, too.
Yeah, she was sexy.
Stop thinking about Bianca. You have wine to make.
I really don’t have a clue what I’m doing here.
“Come on, Jack. We have work to do.” I head past the bocce court, across the patio, and inside. The tasting room is deserted at this early hour. I walk through it and downstairs to the cellar. This is where the wine is, the reds now almost two years since harvest. We’re getting close to harvest this year and the chardonnay grapes are doing well. So I’m told. I don’t really know. They look like good grapes to me.
Some of the staff at Take Flight chose to stay on and some left. I hired Diego as vineyard manager, and Antonio stayed on as cellar manager, who then hired a few more people to help them keep things going until I sold my place in Long Beach and moved here.
What I don’t have is a winemaker. Much as I love the idea of making wine, I know I need someone skilled to do that.
It’s cool. Soon we’ll be bottling the stuff that’s in these barrels. Then drinking it. And selling it, of course. Hopefully. My investments have done well enough to allow me to buy this place, but I’m going to need to make money at some point. And I need to show all the doubters that I can actually do this.
With no job, no marriage, and no future, I’ve been feeling like a huge has-been.
I need to accomplish something.
Somehow, I’ve been convinced to go to the Napa Fair.
This sounds like a lot of people having fun, and that’s definitely not my scene these days. But if I’m going to live here and run a business here, I need to interact with people in the community.
I don’t want to go back to that black hole of loneliness that dragged me down.
One of my biggest problems when I retired was missing my teammates and buddies. After the years playing together, traveling together, all the pranks and chirps and inside jokes, I was lost without that kind of camaraderie. But the guy my wife cheated on me with was a former teammate. That made things kind of awkward with my old buddies. And that’s putting it mildly. I wanted to take him apart with my bare hands. And my teammates were the only friends I had, so I was pretty isolated, other than a couple of my closest friends, Frenchy and Copper.
This morning I ran into Miles at Café Royale when we were both getting coffee and he invited me to the fair. He and Nolan, who I met at the Cuban music event, are going, along with Millie and Ana. A county fair is a long way from the exclusive clubs and flashy night life in Los Angeles, but what the hell. It’s something.
I wait for them at the entrance to the park. It’s a nice warm evening and people are streaming into the venue—groups of teenagers, parents with kids, older couples. Music from the bandstand and the smell of hot dogs drift on the air.
“Hey,” Nolan greets me when he and Ana arrive. “Good to see you, man.”
We exchange hellos and some small talk for a little while. Then Miles and Millie show up and we do it again.
When I first met them, they acted like I was Tom Cruise or some mega-famous celebrity, all polite and careful and formal. Which was laughable because I felt like a huge nobody here in Napa, knowing nothing and no one. Now they’re more at ease.
Finally, when no one makes a move to go in, I gesture at the entrance and say, “Should we get tickets and go in?”
“Just waiting for Bianca,” Nolan says.
Bianca. Oh.
“Okay,” I answer without batting an eye.
Suddenly this outing is much more interesting.
“Oh, there she is!” Millie waves.
Bianca sees Millie waving and strides toward us on long legs. Jesus, she’s pretty. There’s a tinge of gold beneath her smooth, tawny skin, her dark hair gleams in the evening sun, and her smile for her friends is warm and full of affection.
“Hiiii!”
She hugs her girlfriends, then Miles and Nolan, who I gather she hasn’t seen for quite some time. It sounds like she’s been away. Where has she been? My curiosity is aroused.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says. “There was a dog.”
A dog. There was a dog. What?
Then she looks at me. All that warm affection disappears. “Hi again.” I’m certain she had no idea I was coming. I flick a glance toward Millie and Ana, hoping there’s no matchmaking happening here. I mean, Bianca is attractive, but the last thing I need is another woman to screw me over.
“Hi, Bianca.”
“You saw a dog?” Millie says with a laugh.
“He was so cute! You should have seen him—he had these floppy ears and big brown eyes, and he was so soft. A golden retriever puppy. And he was wearing a bow tie! I love dogs,” she finishes with a sigh.
“Okay, let’s go in!” Millie says.
We line up at the ticket booth and once inside with bands on our wrists, we start wandering down the main drag. The girls quickly detour into a big tent that’s selling various crafts, exclaiming over jewelry and coasters and goat’s milk soap or some shit. Miles, Nolan, and I meander a bit, too. Neither of these guys is part of the wine industry—Miles is a deputy in the Napa Valley sheriff’s office and Nolan’s a marijuana grower. They’re both eager to hear about my hockey career, and I don’t mind talking about that. I had a great run; it was only after I left hockey that things all went to shit.
After that, we continue our stroll past the kids’ zone. Nolan spots the beer tent and makes a beeline toward it. I’m not going to object to a cold one, so we all get beers.
“Look at the rides!” Bianca says. “Wow! They never used to have this many.”
“We have to go on the Ferris wheel,” Millie says to Miles.
He slings an arm around her shoulders. “Sure.”
“I want to go on the Shock Wave!” Ana points at a dangerous looking structure.
Bianca bites her lip. “I could do the Ferris wheel. I think I’m too old for the Shock Wave.”
“You used to love it!” Ana says.
“I know.” She scrunches up her face. “I was crazy, apparently.”
“You sound like an old lady,” Millie teases. “You’re only twenty-six.”
I’m thirty-six. That’s a fuck of a lot older than her. What the hell was I doing, fantasizing about her in skimpy purple silk? Jesus.
She rolls her eyes. “The last time I came to the fair I was eighteen.”
So she has been away for a while.
“Let’s all go on the Ferris wheel,” Millie says. “We can discuss the Shock Wave after.”
“Uh, no thanks.” I wave a hand. “You all go on, though. Rides aren’t my thing.”
Disappointment shows on their faces.
“You’re going to make me go on the ride alone?” Bianca says.
Well, shit. The seats only hold two people, so of course she’ll be alone.
“Are you afraid?” she asks, lifting a perfect eyebrow.
“I’m not afraid of it,” I say patiently. “It’s just not my idea of fun.”
“Maybe the Teacups are more your speed? We can probably find a toddler to go on with you.”
“Ha ha. I’m good, thanks.”
“Standing on the ground watching everyone else is your idea of fun, then?”
I stare at her. “Basically, yeah. I’m the one who’s old.”
“Phhhht. Fine. I’ll go alone.” She turns her back on me and starts toward it. Ana and Millie give me a brief look of sadness, but follow Bianca.
Before I can even think about it, I start after the group. “Fine, I’ll go on with you,” I say as I join them in line. “So you won’t be alone.”
“Don’t feel obligated on my behalf.” Bianca waves a hand.
I cock my head, studying her face. She’s all cool and condescending but a faint tightness at the corners of those pretty lips hints at nerves.
“Of course not.” I shrug.
She sucks on her bottom lip, then shrugs, too. “Whatever.”
She’s nervous about the Ferris wheel. But she was going to ride alone.
The sounds of the carnival surround us—music and chatter and screams from folks on the Shockwave and the Zipper. When it’s our turn to get on the big wheel, I let her go first and then the attendant closes the bar in front of us, locking it into place. Bianca curls her fingers over it but tosses her hair back and smiles as we glide away and up.
The sun is low in the sky now, the neon lights on all the rides coming on. We stop a few times as more people get off and on the ride, and end up stopped at the very top. We have a view of the entire fair and the town of Napa around us and I survey my new home. “This is cool.”
“Yeah.” She, too, looks around but her knuckles are white on the bar in front of us.
“Tell me some of the things you see,” I say. “I’m new here.”
“Right. Um, well, that’s the river over there. The Napa River.”
“Uh huh.”
“That’s a cemetery.”
I nod.
The wheel starts up with a small jerk and Bianca jumps.
“This is so fun!” she says with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
We’re all loaded up and making smooth revolutions now.
“Have you been away from here for a while?” I ask. “I got that impression from things you’ve said.”
“Yes. I went away to college in New York, and then I moved to Argentina.”
“Whoa. That’s quite a move.”
“I did my degree in Viticulture & Enology, and then an internship at a winery in Argentina. When I finished, they offered me a job and I decided to stay.”
“Wow.” I’m impressed. “Why are you back?”
Her eyes shadow. “My grandmother died and left my sisters and me her winery. I took a leave to come home and help my sisters figure out what we’re going to do with it.”
“Are you thinking of selling it?”
She’s quiet, gazing out at the view below us. “We can’t sell it. Nonna loved Caparelli. She and my grandfather made some amazing wines there, years ago. It’s been in the family for a long time.” Then she visibly straightens and says crisply, “What about you? You just bought Take Flight. What made you decide to come here and buy a winery?”
“I needed something to do.”
It’s sort of a joke, if you know me, but she doesn’t know me, and also I’m not good at making jokes. She gives me another chilly look. “That doesn’t sound like a very good reason to buy a winery. Running a vineyard and making wine are a complicated business.”
“I’m learning that.”
“You’ve never made wine before?”
“Yeah, I made wine. At home. Also I’ve drank a lot.”
Another joke that lands like a bowling ball.
“Sure,” she says, more scorn in her voice. “That’ll help a lot.”
“I’m not making a good impression on you, am I.”
She blinks. Then her lips twist briefly. “I’m sorry. The Wright family owned Take Flight for generations. It’s hard seeing someone else take over it.”
“I know. I’ve talked to Jake.”
She starts. “You have? Oh. Of course you have.”
“Just to be clear, I didn’t buy it out from under them. They put it up for sale for their own reasons. I just happened to be the lucky buyer.”
She levels a long, lukewarm look on me. “You’re right. That’s not a reason to resent you. I’m sorry again.” She sighs. “I’m…well, I’m not entirely happy to be back here. My grandma died. My family is pissed at us because she left the winery to us. My uncle is apparently trying to sabotage us.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. My little sister can’t be bothered to come and help deal with this. And, truthfully…I was a bit nervous about this Ferris wheel.”
“No? Really?”
She shoots me a slitty-eyed look.
I shrug. I admire her honesty. “I’m kinda surprised you’re nervous.” She doesn’t seem like the fearful type. She seems confident. Self-assured. Blowing off to Argentina must have taken guts.
“Maybe I am getting old.” She wrinkles her nose.
I snort.
“I don’t usually take things like that out on other people, so I’m sorry. Everything will work out.”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
Her face softens. “Thank you. I miss her. Even though I lived far away, she was always here.”
Bianca has an air of reserve about her, other than when she’s interacting with her friends. You can practically see the guard she lets down with them. Not that she’s cold. Nobody with a mouth like that and eyes so sensual could be cold. Now seeing a bit of softness beneath the reserve makes me even more curious about her.
As we slow to a stop at the bottom to get off the ride, she says quietly, “Thanks for coming on here with me.”