CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country) (11 page)

“But what about –”

“In the car.”

Claire would have sprinted back to the car. She didn’t know what to do. Her chest burst with something and her head ached. When she pushed through the tall glass doors and the breeze brushed her eyelashes she couldn’t stop the tears from flooding her eyes. Her walk became faster and then almost a blurry run as she reached the car. She jerked on the door handle and collapsed in the seat burying her face in her hands.

“What happened?” Leiko asked when she sat in the seat. “I saw you kiss him. Why aren’t you happy?”

“He’s married.” She brushed the tears from her eyes and started the car.
Why was she so pathetic to be that attracted to him?

“What kind of shit is that?” Leiko looked across the hood of the car at the winery and the vineyard surrounding them like a bristle-filled fortified hedge, “You want me to drive?”

Claire shook her head. She backed out of the parking space and drove from the lot, along the road, and back home.

“Zack! There you are.”

Zack loosened his fingers from the rail and turned at the winery manager’s voice. His fingers still curled so tight he was not sure how long it would take before he could straighten them again. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to let you know I’ve had all the other investors, that have been out for any reason, taste your blend and they love it. It got the highest rating among all the investor-made blends including the two fancy consulting wine makers we brought in.”

“That’s nice to hear. Thanks.”

“We need to get those batches bottled so I had a call with the management council. We’ve unanimously agreed to blend all the wine into your blend.”

“Are you sure? All of it? That’s a big decision. I’d say hold back a few barrels as pure varietals – they are nice on their own.”

“We also market tested to winery guests plus a special shipment to the wine-club members using those little half-size bottles. Written comments we tallied show an all around great performance.”

Rutger walked over, “Zack, did Martin tell you we have pre-orders? What a business to be in.”

Martin said, walking back to the winery office, “I’m shipping a case home to you, I know you can’t take them on the plane.”

“Great job.” Rutger added a wink, “Old chap.” He went back in.

Zack finished his cola and picked up his gloves to return to the field. He walked through the winery to the path he would follow across the property.

“Hey, Zack!” called Jacob Winters. Zack waited while he jogged over to catch up. “I tasted Zack’s Blend. Just amazing.”

“The magic is in the grapes.”

“No. None of the other best options could compare. Who could guess that taking phenomenal grapes, because the base wines are really good, and mixing them together could come up with such magic?”

Zack looked around to make sure no one lingered within hearing distance, “You still want to sell?”

“No. I think I should stick to this and see how this wine does. My wife and I agreed we are going to continue betting on the future. Thanks, Zack.”

“Go somewhere else to chew – this is my time to relax.”

Zack swallowed his mouthful of cereal, “I thought I might sit on the couch and watch this mindless morning show with you since we haven’t seen each other all week.”

“Why don’t you sit in the kitchen until you’re finished?”

“Why so grouchy?”

“Because you know how those kinds of noises bug me. We’ve talked about it before. Why can’t you seem to remember it? And I’m working all the time and you seem to be either jetting off to play at a winery or home goofing off all day.”

Zack set his unfinished bowl on the end-table, “Why do you think I goof off?”

“I don’t see you doing anything.”

“That’s the measure? Are you short of laundered socks or something? You see me when you get home and I’m tired too, taking care of my work and the kids, the house, the landscaping, the cars. You don’t see anyone doing anything except those at your job, so what’s the deal? You have to have eyes on everyone all the time or you think they are goofing off?”

“I keep close tabs on all the people in my department.”

“You do know they resent you for such micromanaging? I’ve worked for and been that boss before – it fails in the long run.”

“You don’t know what my job is like.”

“I’ve spent time in and around corporations both larger and smaller than yours. I’ve found the supervisors most critical of how their team spent their time, the ones that worried the most – those supervisors were more likely screwing around themselves. They knew the fine art of goofing off since they had perfected it so well they could do it and still advance in the organization. That knowledge led them to be suspicious of everyone else. Then they forget the employee working on their own time nights or weekends, sometimes taking calls at midnight from clients.”

“That’s not how it is.”

“Yes it is. People are people and all companies are filled with managers that range from amazing to amazingly dysfunctional.”

“I don’t know. Just don’t annoy me with chewing noises.”

“Like you did with that bag of chips last night?” Zack pointed at the ravaged and empty chip bag sitting on the other end table, it’s mouth open and hollow after spewing vomit all night from its abused and post-party crumple.

“Why do you spin every argument around to make it about you?”

“Because you blow up every little irritation into aggravated arguments.”

“You are impossible.”

“I’m going outside.” Zack scooped up his cereal and finished it in the kitchen. He grabbed his hat and coat while shoving his feet into his boots. He went out to the shed.

The shed door creaked open. Zack ducked his head and fished in the corner next to the lawn tractor for the post hole digger. He tossed it out the shed door. Then thought he should have leaned it against the door jamb. He was angry. Lydia got in those arguments with him and she seemed fine within ten minutes of venting while that argument swirled in his head for hours. Maybe doing this job might distract him into a better mood.
Why does she get to me like that?
He found the spool of galvanized wire. Zack shook out the dirty debris from the five gallon bucket and wiped out the spider webs filling its open top. He put in the fence tool, hammer, small crowbar, and other hardware he expected to use. He sloshed across the soggy ground to the side yard and pulled up the little stake he had put down last fall as his row marker. He gripped the two arms of the post hole digger, raised it up, and slammed it down at the ground. The steel shells sunk into the soil, crackling as the slushy ice still hiding below the surface fractured. He pulled the handles apart cradling the soft earth. He rotated and clanked the digger down so the soil spilled out. Then he raised and thrust the digger again into the soil. He repeated thrusting the shovel into the world.

He took his tape measure from the bucket and extended it down the hole showing two inches deeper than the frost line would reach in Michigan. He walked back to the side of the shed and, using his pocket knife, cut through the banding. The posts relaxed and Zack pulled the first one from the stack. He thrust the pole into the ground then packed dirt around it until it held firm. He used his level and pushed the pole from each side until the post was straight with the world. Then he packed dirt in tight.

“What are you doing?” Lydia startled Zack. She had Zack’s good wing-tip dress-shoes banging around on her bare feet and held her coat around her like a blanket held closed in the front only because her arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m putting the posts in the ground for my vineyard.”

“You’re putting a vineyard in here?” She waved an arm across the yard, “We have to talk about these things.”

“I told you I ordered a few plants. They are getting delivered in a two weeks.”

“How much money did you spend on all this?”

Zack saw the kids coming from the house through the open garage door. He saw their cars sitting in the garage. “How much do we spend on that car of yours compared to mine?”

“I need that for my job.”

“You don’t
need
it. You wanted it.”

“I have to keep certain appearances for my level of accomplishment in the company.”

“Like wearing my shoes into the yard? Getting my good shoes all muddy?”

Lydia turned, “I’m not sure what to do,” she waved her hands free in the air and stomped back to the house.

“Daddy, can we help?”

“Sure Noah.”

“I have your shovel!” Grace said as she dragged it farther across the lawn. She raised it and struck it into the ground as she had seen her father from the window. Zack went to the next marker and started cutting the hole with a second regular round-nosed long-handled shovel. Grace dropped the heavy post-hole digger and ran back.

“Dad! Let me use that one! It digs really well!”

“Seems like it digs quick doesn’t it?” Zack smiled, “Dig this hole I started here.”

“What can I do?” Noah asked, hopping on his toes.

“We’ll need this second post in the ground and then we can put wire between the posts. You can help with that. Wait here, I’ll get my book to show you.” Zack walked to the shed and back. He flipped the book until a page of the trellis system he planned showed up. “Here kids, see this picture? This is what I’m building.”

“That looks nice. What plants are in the picture?”

“Grapes.”

“Like at the store? Big bunches of grapes I can take to school for lunch?”

“No. Grapes with seeds that we crush into juice.”

“Grape juice? I like grape juice.”

“Stand back and I’ll finish putting this second post in the ground.” Zack set his book on the edge of the pail. “I think we have enough room I can put another post up there. Do you kids want to take turns digging with this shovel where that stake is?”

“Yes!” Both children agreed and ran to the shovel jostling each other.

Zack dug again into the soil. The children didn’t last long with the other shovel and ran around chasing each other. Zack had the second post in the ground and then the third. He called the children to help with the lowest trellis wire. “Ok kids; hold this wire here while I hammer in these fence staples. Yes, hold the wires like that. Perfect.” Zack left an extra tail on the wire so he could grip it later in the spring after the posts settled tighter in the ground. Behind him Zack heard, “Sorry Dad!”

Zack turned and saw Grace leaning over a puddle in the lawn watching his book sink below the surface as it soaked up the water. Zack stepped over to the puddle and dragged the book out. Thoroughly soaked, he held it up to let it drain, and then draped it over the wire.

“Sorry Dad!” Grace looked scared.

“It’s fine Grace. I shouldn’t have left it there. I know you didn’t intend for that to happen.”

Grace shook her head.

“Here, why don’t you walk back with me to the shed and I’ll show you how we help it dry out? Each of you grab a shovel and I’ll get the rest of the tools with the bucket.” In the shed Zack fanned the book open with as many things as he could find. “I think we’ll save it, what do you kids think?”

“That will work Dad,” Noah said.

“Sorry Dad, it won’t look nice even after drying, will it?”

“No, but it’s a book I have for the information. And we’ll keep that.”

“Kids, do you want hot chocolate?” Lydia called out the back door.

“Bye, Dad!” The children ran back to the house. Zack knew the scattered scene of hats and boots he would find when he returned to the house. Zack put his tools away and before he could get out of the shed Lydia was at the back door holding a wad of paper towels that could sop up a giant’s soup from his bowl before he could eat it.

“You need to get back in the house and watch these kids.”

“What happened?”

“Your daughter spilled her drink all over the kitchen counter.”

Zack closed the shed door and came in the house. He heard Lydia spank Grace who was already crying and red-faced from Lydia screaming at her and told her to go to her room.

“You need to talk to Grace,” she said to Zack, smearing the table with the wad of paper towels. Her eyes angry as she scrubbed at the table as if she could rub a hole through it. As if it needed to have a hole bored through it.

Zack considered suggesting using fewer paper towels but he held his thoughts. He hung up the kids’, his, and Lydia’s coats on the rack and squared up the muddy wet boots on the mat. He saw how the yard mud had started drying into a film all around his best dress-shoes he wore to client meetings. Something to clean later. He went into Grace’s room and helped her quickly get into a better mood stacking tiny books into a little doll house. Zack sat next to Grace, “What happened?” He picked up a few books and reinforced one of the teetering walls.

“I spilled my hot chocolate.”