Chapter 11
Bianca
M ark takes another stool at the round table and pulls it around closer to me. He called this morning to invite me out for a drink and I agreed to meet him here. We had some good times when we were together, but we were kids. He was fun, maybe a little irresponsible but hey, a seventeen-year-old guy has a lot of growing up to do and I’m curious to see what kind of man he’s turned out to be.
I got an uneasy feeling, though, when I met him on the sidewalk in front of the Golden Cougar, when he greeted me with a hug and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s already been drinking.
We look at the menu and make some small talk, but I’m studying him and the way he talks, which is loose and free-wheeling, his eyes a tiny bit unfocused. His face is more mature, his skin a bit more textured since I knew him in high school, his eyes creased at the corner, but he still seems like a happy, easy-going guy. He’s wearing a pair of ripped and faded jeans, which is fine, and a nice button-down shirt with a small stain on the pocket.
I order a beer and he asks for a Jack and Coke, and adds, “Make it a double.”
Oh boy.
Maybe he’s nervous?
Nah.
“So.” He smiles at me, hands resting on the table. “Is it good to be home?”
“Well. In some ways.” I explain yet again why I’m here and for how long and that I wasn’t entirely happy to leave my job in Argentina where things were going so well.
“But this is Napa,” he interrupts me. “Can’t beat Napa.”
My smile tightens. “There is something special about Napa. How about you? What are you doing now?”
“I’m working at Espinoza’s.”
“Oh.” That’s his family-owned building supply company in Rocktram.
“I’m the yard manager,” he says. “Well, sort of the manager. That’s not my actual title, but I’ve worked there the longest and I basically run the yard. Looking after customers, unloading, loading, that kind of thing.”
“Ah. That’s interesting.”
“It’s hard work sometimes, but the pay’s good, and it’s steady work.”
“And where are you living?”
“I still live with my parents. They’re still in the house on Garden Road.”
“Oh.” Don’t judge him. Lots of people live with their parents longer these days . “How are your parents?”
“They’re good. Talking about retirement. They keep nagging me to get my own place so they can downsize and travel, but…” He shrugs and makes a face.
I smile and nod.
Our drinks arrive and Mark tosses back half of his at once. I pick up my beer and take a sip. That’s when I spot Jansen across the room. He’s with Miles and Nolan and they’re all finishing up a meal, talking and looking relaxed.
He looks good.
He looks un-drunk. Unlike Mark.
I swallow a sigh.
As we talk more and Mark orders another drink, he starts to touch me. First my hand. Then my arm. My shoulder. He shifts closer. Then he says, “Remember the first time we did it?”
Uhhhhhh. I shift away from him. “Mark. Back off.”
He blinks at me. “What?”
I frown at him. “Please stop touching me. And I don’t want to talk about the first time we ‘did it.’”
“Why not? It was so hot.” He leans in and the fumes assail me.
I angle away from him. “I barely remember it, to be honest.”
“What?” He scowls and stares. “How could you forget your first time?”
“We’d both been drinking. And it was a long time ago.”
“I don’t believe that.”
I gaze at him, a little incredulous. “What? Are you calling me a liar?”
“You just don’t want to admit how good it was.” He smirks.
Holy shit. So far I’m not impressed with how Mark grew up. “Apparently it wasn’t that memorable.”
He frowns again. “Well, that’s rude.”
“This whole conversation is rude.” I scoot my stool away from him. When I look up, I catch Jansen’s eye. He’s watching me.
I lift a hand in a brief wave to acknowledge him. He gives me a steely look.
“Maybe I should go,” I say to Mark.
“We just got here!”
“Look, respect my boundaries,” I tell him. “Or I’ll leave.”
“Boundaries? Oooh, you sound all fancy.”
I grit my teeth. That’s it. “I’m leaving.” I pick up my purse and slide off the stool. I have to squeeze by Mark to get out, though, and he snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me closer.
“Aw, don’t be like that, Bee.”
“Let me go.”
“Let’s have one more drink.” His other hand comes up, at first I think to touch my face, but he lays it over my throat. Panic flares inside me, heating my blood.
Then a big body appears next to us. “Let her go,” Jansen growls.
Mark blinks at him.
“Let her go,” Jansen repeats, his voice low and menacing.
If this is what he looked like to his opponents on the ice, I bet the other teams were scared spitless of him.
When Mark still doesn’t move, Jansen grabs Mark’s hand on my throat and forces it away, then pries his other arm away from me so I’m free. My blood is pumping fast, my breathing flimsy.
“Hey,” Mark says loudly, standing. “Back off, bud.”
“No.” Jansen’s voice is flinty. “You back off.” With both hands on Mark’s chest, he shoves him.
Mark stumbles a step backward and hits the wall. “Hey! What the fuck?”
I cringe at his raised voice and become excruciatingly aware of others in the bar watching us. It’s happy hour and the place is nearly full. My skin prickles with heat and I wonder if this would be a good time to fling myself through the window.
“The lady said to let her go. You didn’t let her go.”
“It’s okay, Jansen,” I say. “All good.”
He turns his hard gaze on me and his tone softens a bit. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fine.” I shoot Mark a disgusted look, then lay cool eyes on Jansen. “I could have handled this,” I say in a low, terse tone. “There was no need to make a scene.”
He rolls his right shoulder reflexively. “Uh. Sorry. I thought you needed help.”
My mouth falls open. “What? Good lord.” I exhale sharply. Who does he think he is? “I’m done here.”
In the morning, I feel stupid for having gone out with Mark. Millie and Ana said he was single again, like he was a potential partner. Why didn’t they tell me he has…issues?
Nah, not their fault. Men!
Then Jansen got involved. I was embarrassed. And pissed. Also…a little impressed.
I didn’t need Jansen to intervene. I could have handled Mark. He was so drunk I’m sure I could have knocked him off his stool if I poked him in the chest with one finger. What in the blueberry fuck muffins did he think he was doing?
I go downstairs and find Rosa and Jake in the kitchen, sitting at the big table eating cereal, steam probably coming out of my ears.
Rosa looks up from her phone. “What the hell happened last night?”
I gaze back at her. “Um…what do you mean?”
“At the Cougar. Apparently there was a big brawl.”
“Oh, for fox sake.” I shake my head, frowning, and move to the fridge to get my overnight oats. “Not a brawl. Just a little…situation.”
“That’s not what everyone’s saying on the town Facebook page. They’re saying Jansen got in a knock down fight with Mark Overton. Some guys jumped to help Mark and then Miles and Nolan had to defend Jansen. Lots of broken glasses and there may have been blood.”
“What!” I turn and gape at her. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Because of you,” she adds with a repressed smile.
“I was there, yes. And Mark drank too much and got all handsy and gross and I told him to back off and then he grabbed me and—” I stop short. Do I want to mention Jansen’s misguided rescue attempt?
“And Jansen punched him in the face!”
Okay, never mind, it’s already out. “No, he didn’t!” I pause. “He shoved him, but that was it. Then I left.”
“So the brawl happened after you left.”
“Oh my God.” I sink onto a kitchen chair. “I can’t believe this. I just thought it would be nice to see an old friend for a drink.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I didn’t know he was like that. He didn’t used to be.”
“And now everyone in town is pissed at Jansen,” Jake adds.
“What! Why?”
“He’s the new guy. I mean, Mark’s a bit of a screw up, but he’s lived here his whole life and everyone loves his family. Of course they’re going to support him over another stupid rich guy who thinks he can run a winery and who’ll be gone before the year is over.”
I pause. “Wow. Is that what you think of Jansen?”
His mouth thins. “Not me. That’s what other people are saying.”
I bite my lip as guilt pokes me in the chest. It’s also what I thought, when I first met him. “Wait. How can everyone in town be mad at him? This just happened last night!”
“You know what this town is like.”
Oh yeah, I know what this town is like. “He was defending me.”
“I know that,” Rosa says. “But rumors start.”
“This is ridiculous. Nobody got hurt, right?”
“It sounds like Mark might have some bruises.”
I cringe. “Yikes. I have to go talk to Jansen.”
Rosa’s eyebrows shoot up.
“I mean, I had to talk to him anyway,” I say quickly. “Business. Wine business.”
“Uh huh. Well, you can make sure he didn’t break any bones.”
“We need to talk about those barrels.”
Rosa frowns. “I thought we did already.”
Ordering new French oak barrels was part of our team meeting discussion with Allegra.
I haven’t told Rosa about my discovery of the qvevris. I’ve been reading about making orange wine and I’m pretty sure I can do it. I just want to be sure before I broach the subject. We’re already on different pages when it comes to barrels.
“We did, but I…think we’re going to need more, and I prefer oak over stainless.”
“They’re expensive. You know we don’t have a lot of money.”
“But we have some. We just have to prioritize.”
She rubs her forehead. “Okay, we can sit down and go over the budgets and see if there’s somewhere we can cut.”
I’d rather run through the streets of Oak Creek Canyon with my naked body smeared with bacon fat. But I have to make my case.
I finish my oatmeal. As I’m rinsing my bowl in the sink, I gaze out the window at the clear blue sky, the sun blazing down on the ripening vines. Birds swoop and glide above the vineyard. Starlings.
I straighten to attention and watch more birds gather. “Look!” I point.
Rosa and Jake glance at each other. “What?”
“The birds!”
“Ah.” Jake also peers out the window. “Yeah. We have to check the grapes.”
“Let’s get going.”
As we hike to the vineyard, he fills me in on the blocks they’ve been checking and the samples they’ve gotten. He also tells me about the help they’ve lined up for the harvest. It’s not a lot, but it’s doable if we all pitch in. He’s pretty darn knowledgeable. I’ll feel okay leaving with him in charge of the vines here.
“We can start tonight,” he says, and we make a plan.
“Okay. I’ll be back. I have to go over to Jansen’s and talk to him. Some of his vines are probably ready, too.”
“Have you talked to him about your proposal?” Rosa asks.
“That’s also what I need to talk to him about.”
“Do you still think you can handle it all?” Her forehead puckers.
It’s a lot. I’m not gonna lie. “We’ll see!”
It sounds like Jansen’s better prepared for harvest than we are, so he probably won’t need my help as much.
As I cross the yard toward the path through the live oaks separating our properties, some of my anger and embarrassment from last night returns. I need to keep this about business.
I enter through the front entrance and pass the deserted wine tasting room, coming to a stop in front of Carol’s office. Jansen’s in there with her. “Hi.”
They both look up at me.
“Hi, Bianca.” Carol rises from her desk and comes toward me with arms outstretched. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”
“I know!” I smile at her and we hug. She and my mom were friends when they were younger and she kind of checked in on us girls after Mama left.
“Have you heard anything from your mom?” she asks right on cue.
“I haven’t heard from her for a while.” I make a face. “They’re busy with their winery, too.”
“I suppose they are.” She looks a little sad. “Will she come home for Maria’s funeral?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.” In some ways, I feel like I don’t have a mom. I look at Jansen. “Can I talk to you?”
He’s watching me with a look of concern etched into his forehead. “Sure.” He rises from the chair. “We can go to my office.”
I follow him into the small room. There’s a gorgeous new computer sitting on the desk but other than that, it’s bare and spotless. On a shelf sit a few trophies which I assume are hockey related rather than wine awards.
He leans on the edge of his desk and gestures to a couple of chairs. “Have you made a decision?”
My anger about last night is still simmering, and despite my resolve to keep this business, I say, “Why the hell did you get in a fight with Mark last night?”
He lifts an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “You call that a fight? You’ve apparently never seen a hockey game.”
I blink. “I heard there was a fight. After I left.”
He gives me a what-the-fuck look.
“A bar brawl,” I elaborate. “With broken bottles and blood and a bunch of people involved.”
“Whoa.” He shakes his head. “Um. That didn’t happen.”
“What?” I stare.
“There was no brawl. I had a few words with Mark.” He says the name as if he’s spitting out corked wine. “Then I finished my beer and came home.”
“Oh, for the love of goats. The grapevine is working overtime here in Oak Creek Canyon. Word is out that there was a big brawl at the Cougar last night.”
He gazes back at me with a crease between his eyebrows. “There was no brawl.”
I sigh. “So you didn’t punch him?”
“No, I did not punch him. Although I could have. Asshole.”
I suck briefly on my bottom lip. My anger is fading in the face of his chivalry. That’s an old-fashioned word. But I don’t know a better one. It makes my heart beat in a funny rhythm that has me a tad breathless. “Okay. Wow. Apparently half the town is mad at you for beating him up.”
“Jesus.” He looks to the sky. “What am I doing here?”
“I wonder the same,” I mutter. “I mean, me. Not you. I wonder what I’m doing here. Okay, we’ll get Ana and Millie and the others on it to try to clear your name.” I pause. “I wonder if Mark told people that?”
“If he did, he’s an idiot. I wouldn’t go around telling people I harassed a woman and got beat up for it.”
I almost laugh. “I’m sure that’s not how he’d frame it.”
“Whatever. I don’t have time for bullshit. Is that what you came here for?”
“Um. Actually, no. I came on business. I noticed the birds were really active over the vineyard this morning.”
From the look on his face, I could have just told him I want to dip my feet in chocolate.
“The birds get more active over the vines when the grapes are ripe. They know.”
“Ah.”
“So we went through some blocks over at Caparelli and we’re starting to harvest tonight. I think we should go check out your grapes. Those sauvignon blanc were almost ready the other day.”
“Okay.” He straightens. “Does this mean you’re going to help me?”
“Oh. Right.” I nod in a businesslike manner. “I’ll agree to help you, if you’ll do something for me in return.”
His lips twitch. “Sounds interesting.”
I give him a chiding look. “I want to use your lab. Our equipment is old or gone and we’re going to need to do testing.”
“Damn.” He feigns disappointment. “Hmmm. Well, apparently we’re not really competitors, so I guess I’m okay with that.”
I smile, relief sliding through my veins. “Thank you.”
“I’ll still pay you. I’ve been researching winemaker salaries and there’s a range.” He names some numbers.
“I’ll only be working part time, since I have to also work at my own winery.”
“Right. Okay. We’ll take middle of the range and cut it in half.”
“This is weird.”
“What?”
“Negotiating salary with you.”
“Then take my offer.”
“Fine. Done.”
The expression on his face is the happiest I’ve seen even though he’s not really smiling. But the green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes light up and his face relaxes into satisfied softness. It’s a good look on him and my belly flutters.
Business.
“Let’s go. Where’s Diego?”
“I think he’s in the cellar with Antonio.”
“Let’s get him and check things out.”