4
With the cell phones plugged into a power bar in the guest room, Curtis leads Damian up the hill behind the house to the north corner of the property.
He knows Damian’s type: an uber-masculine bro into MMA, cars, and listening to Joe Rogan while he pumps iron at the gym.
Damian strikes him as a beer drinker with no palate for wine.
But he’ll be more interested in their plans to build a winery than in Syd’s furniture choices.
Near the top of the slope, they stop. “Eventually, we’ll plant vines on this hillside,” Curtis says, pride in his voice. It’s such a cool plan. He and Syd are creating a dream life, and he can imagine how impressive it must sound to this van-living Aussie.
“Nice,” Damian says, looking over the vista. “And what a view.”
“We’re going to build a small winery and a tasting room. I’ve been working on a business plan.”
Damian points to the derelict shed to their right. “You could fit a couple of steel tanks in that building over there. Depending on your scope, that could be your winery.”
“Except the shed’s about to fall down.”
“Maybe not.” Damian trudges through the tall grass toward the abandoned building, Curtis in tow.
When they reach the shed, the younger man presses the outside wall, leans his shoulder against it.
“The structure seems pretty sound. The roof needs new shingles, but that’s no big deal.
” He pushes open the door, the rusty hinges creaking and catching in protest. The two men peer inside at the cobwebs, the abandoned pieces of lumber, a few dusty coffee cans full of nails and screws.
“You’d just need to replace some of the rotting boards.
And then you could build a nice deck out front for your tastings. ”
Why hadn’t Curtis thought of utilizing this shed before? Now that this backpacker has pointed it out, he can visualize it. The distance from the house would allow him and Syd privacy. And the view from up here is spectacular. Even if their wine is subpar, people would come for the scenery.
“Are you an architect, Damian? Or a builder?”
“Nah. Commercial diver. But my dad was a general contractor. I worked summers and weekends on construction sites since I was fifteen. You pick up a few things.”
As they stroll back toward the house, Curtis asks, “What part of Australia are you guys from?”
“Western Australia. Fremantle, near Perth.”
“Never been.”
“It’s a bloody long way. Most isolated capital city in the world.”
“I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”
“Best beaches on earth.”
“Really? Better than Spain?”
“Can’t complain about the Med, but WA has white sand, turquoise waters. And the beaches aren’t crowded like in Europe.”
“Because the sharks do a cull every now and then?” Curtis jokes.
“They mostly snack on surfers. Swimmers don’t worry about them too much.”
“Commercial diver sounds like a pretty dangerous job.”
“It is. But it pays well. Enough for me to take Bianca away for a few months. She’s been through a rough time recently.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. Her mom died a couple of years ago. Her dad buggered off when she was a baby.”
“Syd’s mom passed recently, too.”
Damian’s pace slows a little. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Being the support system. Dealing with their grief all the time.”
The young Aussie knows how exhausting and lonely it is to be in a relationship eclipsed by constant pain.
But during Bianca’s suffering, had Damian ever made an enormous error in judgment?
A mistake so monumental that his partner would struggle to forgive him?
Probably not. Curtis had been selfish and stupid, and he’d broken Syd’s heart. Now, he must make amends.
“They’d do the same for us,” Curtis says, and he means it. “For better or for worse and all that.”
“B. and I aren’t married, but I feel the same way.” Damian’s smile looks slightly forced. “It’s all part of the deal.”
They’ve reached the pool now, where the women are deep in conversation over mugs of milky coffee. Damian lowers himself onto the end of the lounge chair next to his partner, drapes an arm around her shoulders. “They’re going to have a great little winery here.”
“So I hear,” Bianca says. “I reckon it’ll be a huge success.”
Curtis pulls up a cheap plastic deck chair, addresses his wife. “Damian had some great ideas for that shed out back.”
“Perfect.” Syd seems delighted. “Coffee, Damian?”
“I’m okay.” He looks to his girlfriend. “We should go. The phones are probably charged by now.”
“Call from here,” Sydney suggests. “It’s too hot to sit in your van.”
“All our stuff is in the van,” Damian says. “We shouldn’t leave it alone too long.”
“We could push it into the driveway,” Syd offers. “And then we could have an early lunch. Curtis makes a great frittata.”
Irritation tenses Curtis’s jaw. Without even consulting him, Sydney is inviting these interlopers for lunch and suggesting he cook.
She clearly doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with her husband.
Curtis swallows his annoyance, pushes it down.
He wants to keep his wife happy. Syd and Bianca can bond over their dead mothers, and Curtis can pick Damian’s brain about converting the shed.
“Stay,” Curtis says. “I got some Manchego cheese at the market the other day.”
Bianca and Damian exchange a look. “I am hungry,” Bianca says.
Damian turns toward Curtis. “If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”
But it’s Syd who answers. “No trouble at all.” It’s the happiest she’s sounded since before her mom passed. She jumps up. “Let’s go get the van.”