Sundown Crossing (10 page)

‘I’m…’ he puffed out his chest, ‘Josh Aldrich, Operations Manager of Rhein Schloss Wines.’ He continued the charade that he didn’t know her identity. ‘This is private property, you know. I saw the open gates, and the car. Thought I should investigate.’ Not really the truth. He’d come for a bit of a squizz, and—look at what he’d found. He grinned internally. The jackpot!

‘Ah, Mr Aldrich. Who appointed you unofficial caretaker of Krugerhoff?’

Oh, boy! She even sounded like Carl Stenmark. He’d love to be a fly on the wall if the two of them ever came face-to-face. ‘No one,’ he
answered. ‘Just being neighbourly, making sure things are okay.’ He took a deep breath and asked
the
question because he had to be certain. ‘You are her, aren’t you?’ When she didn’t reply, he added, ‘Rolfe Stenmark’s daughter.’

Carla almost smiled. ‘News travels fast in Australian small communities, just as it does in New Zealand.’ She confirmed her identity. ‘I’m Carla Hunter.’

‘Then, this is your place now, isn’t it?’

‘It will be as soon as probate is granted, Mr Aldrich.’

Josh Aldrich shrugged. ‘Call me Josh, Carla. People in the Valley call each other by first names, you know. You’re gonna make a killing when you sell this land,’ he enthused. ‘Since people in the Valley heard about Rolfe’s, um, your father’s passing, there’s been plenty of speculation as to who’s interested in buying Krugerhoff.’ He believed she would appreciate such information, but when her eyes remained cool, knew otherwise.

‘What makes you or anyone else think I’m going to sell?’

Josh threw back his head and laughed. ‘Lady, you kill me. The Valley knows you’ve no money behind you, and that you don’t know a damn about winemaking. It’d be pretty dumb of you not to sell.’ He could see that she was thinking about what he’d said, and followed up with, ‘Carl, your grandfather, he’ll do anything to get this land back.’ His gaze narrowed, became almost feral. ‘You could name your price, Carla.’

‘My grandfather said that?’

‘We’re like that, you know.’ Josh put his right hand up with his index and second finger together to imply closeness, without giving an honest answer. ‘Yeah, he said that to me, more or less.’ Shit, it was close enough to the truth.

She mulled that over for a few seconds. ‘Then it would be wise of me to check the matter out with him. See what figure he has in mind.’

Josh got such a shock at her frankness that he blurted out, ‘Shit, lady. I mean, Carla, don’t do that, don’t go to Carl. The old man, he’s…’ How could he put it without hurting her feelings? he wondered. But then he remembered that he didn’t know her so what did her feelings matter to him, even if she was a right looker with oodles of contained sex appeal? ‘The old man is, he’s still upset about what your father did, you know about that of course. He mightn’t take too kindly to seeing you, you being Rolfe’s daughter and all.’

‘His only granddaughter, I believe. Isn’t that a touch ridiculous?’

He watched as she straightened to her full height. When she did their eyes were almost level with each other. Josh fancied he could read people’s feelings pretty well, and Carla Hunter wasn’t bothering to hide them. She was gathering a head of steam, and what with that red hair of hers and his frank way of talking that wasn’t surprising. He waited for the explosion…

‘Everyone in the Valley knows that too, I suppose, about my father and Marta?’

‘Yeah, but it’s old news,’ he told her cheerfully. Josh liked to goad people, to see how long it took for them to lose their temper.

On hearing that, Carla blinked in disbelief. ‘Yes, it happened more than thirty years ago. What kind of person keeps a grudge going that long?’

‘The kind of person who can,’ Josh suggested smugly. ‘Carl Stenmark’s the type who doesn’t forget or forgive.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Okay.’ He shrugged easily. It didn’t matter to him one way or the other. He had what he wanted. A juicy piece of news to give Luke and old Carl. Rolfe’s offspring was in town. That would get him in good with them. ‘Just a piece of advice, Carla, and you can take it or leave it. Give Stenmark’s home and Rhein Schloss a wide berth. Do your dealings on Krugerhoff with Luke Michaels, Stenmark’s grandson. He’s more approachable and reasonable than the old man.’

Irritated by Josh’s insight into her grandfather’s opinions and him telling her the kind of man Carl Stenmark was, she reacted, not appreciating the supercilious smirk—as if he knew everything—on Josh Aldrich’s face either. The man was far too smug. ‘Well, now that we’ve met, Josh Aldrich, you can go back to your boss and tell him that when,
and if,
I sell Krugerhoff, if my grandfather’s attitude is as you say, it definitely won’t become a Rhein Schloss acquisition.’

‘Lady, you’re unbelievable.’ Josh shook his head, half bemused, half in admiration. ‘You don’t want to go up against Rhein Schloss. Carl might be pushing eighty-two, but he’s a formidable opponent.’

She had had enough! Hands on hips, legs apart to balance herself, she replied coolly, ‘I can be formidable too, Mr Aldrich. Tell your boss that and…
get off my land.’
The index finger of her right hand pointed imperiously towards the vineyard’s gates. ‘Now!’

C
rouched among a tangle of grapevines, Kim Loong eavesdropped unashamedly on the conversation between Josh Aldrich, whom she knew, and the red-haired woman. So, she was now Krugerhoff’s owner. A most interesting fact, that. Anything that affected Krugerhoff was important to her. She recalled overheard snippets of gossip during her months in the Valley mentioning the abandoned vineyard the Loongs had made their temporary home.

From Aldrich’s tone and the woman’s responses, it appeared that the property might be up for sale but, from her hiding place and as she watched the woman’s face closely for changes in expression, Kim sensed that something was at odds with that possibility. If her judgement of the woman was accurate, and more often than not it was because living on the streets of Saigon had forced such skills upon her, the stranger betrayed little inclination to sell her inheritance. And
Aldrich’s grating manner—something with which Kim was also familiar having been subjected to it at one of Rhein Schloss’s vineyards—was antagonising the woman to such a degree that Ms Hunter would
not
sell, particularly to the owners of Rhein Schloss.

All of which was interesting, but where did the situation leave her little family? If Krugerhoff was sold and rebuilt or if Ms Hunter stayed on to reinvigorate the vineyard, it meant the same for her family; their makeshift home would be discovered, they would be forced to leave and would become homeless.

Shaking off a wave of depression, she hunched, completely hidden, amongst the vines. She did not want that—their eviction—to happen. Continuing to observe, she watched the other older, blonde woman return with the ginger-haired boy. The three made their way back to the cottage. The boy raced ahead, running and skipping as he went. The women talked together as they walked.

The listened-to conversation had given her much food for thought about her family’s future and, waiting till the strangers were out of sight before she moved, Kim decided that Tran must fix his bike quickly! It might be needed sooner than they thought.

‘Can it be done?’ Carla asked Angie as they sat in a café in Murray Street, having lunch.

Smiling, because it was the question Angie had waited days for Carla to ask, she had the answer
ready. ‘I believe so. Sell Valley View Winery to Claude Webster and after settling the bills and the loan there should be a small profit. And if you sell your flat in Christchurch—mind you, you won’t realise a lot on that deal, with the market as depressed as it is—but with whatever profits you have and with what Rolfe left me, there should be enough of a bankroll to put Krugerhoff back on its feet, in a small way to start with.’

Carla’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I see you have it all worked out. It sounds good,
providing,’
she emphasised the word, ‘we go in as fifty-fifty partners. I insist on that.’

‘If that’s what you want, okay, and yes I have given the possibilities a lot of thought,’ Angie replied, then added knowingly, ‘I’m sure you have too.’

Carla nodded. ‘I’d have to be blind not to see the potential and, if I could pick up some part-time work teaching—I believe my qualifications would be accepted here—that would help too.’ She watched Angie’s expression. ‘Of course. The bonus as far as I’m concerned is getting to know Dad’s relatives. That would be so good for Sam.’

Angie frowned at Carla’s remark. ‘Don’t be too optimistic on that score. Didn’t that Aldrich fellow warn you against contacting your grandfather? That Carl Stenmark wouldn’t be, shall we say, welcoming?’ She was fairly sure that would be so. Over the years Rolfe had given her no more than the base facts of his disinheritance
and assuming that Aldrich wasn’t exaggerating Carla could find herself snubbed by the high and mighty Stenmarks.

Carla’s eyes lit with the glow of determination. ‘I can’t believe anyone could hold a grudge for over thirty years and carry it over to people he doesn’t know, people who have nothing to do with the original problem.’

‘It isn’t logical but then your grandfather is getting on. Sometimes old people develop foibles. My father went a bit strange after Mum died—cranky and difficult to live with—and stayed that way till he died.’ Angie looked at Sam who was wriggling restlessly in his seat and said, ‘Why don’t you take Sam to that nice park we saw on the way in?’

‘Yeah, Mum,’ Sam was enthusiastic. ‘My football’s in the boot of the car.’

Angie smiled at him, he was the closest thing to a grandchild that she would ever have. ‘Do that and I’ll go back to the motel and put some figures down on paper. They’ll only be estimates but then we’ll have a better idea of what it will take, financially, to make Krugerhoff viable.’

‘Don’t forget to add something for renovating the cottage. If we’re going to stay, it has to be liveable.’

‘It wouldn’t need much. A new kitchen, painting inside and out, built-ins in the bedrooms, updating the furniture and relocating the office. We could build a small room off the back verandah or transform the garage into an office.’
She gave Carla a swift glance. ‘Why don’t we ask that nice architect fellow, Paul, to give us an idea as to what that might cost? At the same time he could make sure the buildings are structurally sound.’

Carla gave Angie a quelling look. ‘You’re incorrigible.’ For the last six months Angie had been trying to get her to date members of the opposite sex again, whenever she and Sam came to the vineyard. ‘I am
not
looking for a man, so don’t try to set me up with one.’

Having demolished their lunches, Carla paid the bill. ‘Time for the park,’ she told Sam. Out in the sunshine again, Angie headed down the street towards their motel while Carla and Sam got in the car.

As Carla buckled Sam into his seat, she thought hard. Was she doing, or about to do, the right thing with regard to Krugerhoff? Her thoughts were in a quandary. It was going to involve a lot of hard work and, wouldn’t it be easier to just sell and use the money to pay out the loan on Valley View? That was the sensible option but…her father had held onto Krugerhoff for a reason and left her the vineyard. That reason was, she believed, to put her in touch with his family, even though he’d never mentioned them to her. Hard work or not she reckoned she owed it to her dad to try, and with Angie’s help and expertise she felt positive it would be successful. What a wonderful future legacy she would create for Sam!

She started the car. She would take Sam to Coulthard Reserve and then, ignoring Angie’s advice to be cautious, she intended to visit Stenhaus and introduce herself to the strangers who were her family.

A good hour at the park, feeding the ducks in the lake, and with Sam running along the pathways, kicking his football, made him tired enough to sit quietly in his seat while Carla eventually found her way to her grandfather’s home. After several wrong turns and stopping to ask directions to Stenhaus twice, she made it down the drive to the imposing residence of the Stenmark family. Open-mouthed, Carla stared at the house where her father had once lived.

Architecturally, it was a mixture between a French chateau and a German manor house. The walls were rendered with the right angles of the two-storey building featuring large hand-cut blocks of grey stone. The slate roof was steep, there were leadlight windows and the timber trellises attached to the walls held a variety of vines. Surrounding the house was a manicured lawn and formal gardens featuring many different species of roses. At the end of the long drive, and before the house’s front steps, was a sweeping, circular, crushed gravel area edged with rose bushes and slender, dark green pencil pines. Very imposing. And further back, before the neverending rows of grape vines, she glimpsed what appeared to be a long, low set of
garages. Aahh, yes, she remembered her father describing them in his journal.

‘Wow! Mum, what are we doing here?’ Sam, ever curious, wanted to know.

Feeling overwhelmed by the reality of so much wealth, Carla didn’t answer straight away. She’d had no idea…

‘Mum…?’

She almost turned the engine on again and went to drive away until her determination resurfaced. It was only a house, and inside the house were their flesh and blood relations. She glanced towards her son, saw his puzzlement.
I’m doing this for you, Sam. For you.
Gathering her resolve, she patted his knee. ‘Just have to make a quick call, son. Wait in the car for me, please.’ And before he could protest that he didn’t want to—Sam could be stroppy when the mood took him—she got out of the car and ran up the half dozen marble steps to the grand double front doors. She found and pressed the brass doorbell and waited, aware of her heart beating faster than normal, and making her slightly breathless. After a minute or so the leadlight-panelled front door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman, perfectly groomed and made-up, stared down her aristocratic nose at her.

‘When will you people learn? Deliveries are to be made to the back door, not the front door,’ Lisel Stenmark said, her tone disdainful and impatient. Dark eyes looked Carla up and down,
taking in her dust-encrusted flatties, the casual slacks and lightweight sweater. Then she stared at the young face, and the red-gold hair and blue eyes. Her own eyes widened, her expression changed. She blinked rapidly several times and the mouth with its perfect application of lipstick, tightened.

Instinct and some guesswork told Carla who the woman might be. Dressed in an expensive business suit, she wasn’t likely to be a servant. She was too young to be her father’s older sister, around fortyish she guessed. It had to be Lisel, her father’s younger sister. Trying to ignore the woman’s formidable and less than friendly demeanour, she made her tone sound confident, ‘You must be Lisel.’

Lisel Stenmark took a half-step backwards, as if Carla had some disease that might be contagious.

‘People who don’t know me address me as Ms Stenmark,’ Lisel retorted frostily.

Gritting her teeth against Lisel’s arrogance, Carla persevered. ‘We don’t know each other yet, but there’s no reason why we shouldn’t in the future. My name is Carla Hunter. I’m your niece—your brother Rolfe’s daughter.’

‘How dare you turn up at Stenhaus’s front door and announce yourself like this? You have been told, I believe, that you would not be made welcome here. Papa disowned Rolfe more than thirty years ago so any offspring of his will not be recognised by the Stenmarks.’ Lisel drew
herself up to her full height which made her several centimetres taller than Carla. ‘Papa will not acknowledge you or your son and if you think you can come here and expect to be made part of the family, then think again.’

‘But…’ Carla felt as if she had been slapped in the face and the woman knew it from the cold smile she threw at her. ‘That was all a very long time ago. Surely…’

‘My father, my sister and I have long memories, Ms Hunter. Stenmark blood running through your veins means nothing to us. As I said, you are not and never will be welcome here. Therefore, the sooner you sell Krugerhoff and go back to where you belong the better we will like it.’ Having said that, Lisel took another half-step backwards, fumbled for and found the door handle and slammed the door in Carla’s face.

Proud of herself, Lisel leant against the back of the front door. Until the doorbell rang again. Clucking her tongue in anger, she opened the door about twenty centimetres, to find Carla still there, hands on hips, cheeks flushed.

‘No one tells me where to go and what to do,
Aunt Lisel.
The Stenmark family not liking the idea of Rolfe’s offspring being in the Barossa Valley is too bad because, I just might stay…’ Having delivered her response Carla leant forward and pulled the door handle so that it closed before the older woman could reply.

Angry beyond words, Carla tripped down the front steps, got in the car and slammed the
driver’s door hard. Who did the Stenmarks think they were? And…what kind of people nurtured such hatred that it was still strong after thirty years? Not normal, she assured herself and then the thought came to her that perhaps her father had done the right thing in leaving Australia to start afresh elsewhere. Grinding her teeth in frustration, the thoughts rolled on. Who needed relatives such as them anyway?

‘You okay, Mum? You look kind of funny.’

‘Funny?’

‘Like—when you get mad at me!’

Sam’s observation made Carla smile. She leant sideways and hugged him to her. ‘Oh, Sam, I’m not angry with you. With someone else.’ She turned the engine on and put the car into gear. ‘But I’ll get over it. Come on, we’ll find Angie.’

All the way into Nuriootpa Carla steamed because of what her dear aunt had said.
Not welcome here. Go back where you belong.
Darn them. She was her father’s daughter and she had as much right to be here as any Stenmark. And…her chin squared stubbornly, she was going to do it, she decided. With Angie’s help she would turn Krugerhoff into a success and to hell with the Stenmarks and Rhein Schloss. Yes, indeed, to hell with all of them.

Lisel still stood with her back against the front door and waited for her heartbeat to normalise. She relived the scene with Carla. The woman was uncannily like her mother, Anna Louise, which
was unnerving. Fancy daring to come straight up to their front door with…expectations. But, almost fatalistically, she sensed something else even more worrying. Carla Hunter was a threat to Luke, to his inheritance, though Lisel was almost positive her father wouldn’t acknowledge the Kiwi upstart.
She
had nurtured and shared Luke’s dream of ascending to the CEO’s position for too long to let anyone stand in his way. Carla had to be encouraged to leave the Valley promptly. One way or another.

Luke Michaels, after an agitated phone call from Lisel telling him of Carla’s appearance at Stenhaus’s front door, knew he couldn’t put off a face-to-face discussion with Rolfe’s daughter any longer. A feeling deep in his gut told him that it wasn’t going to be pleasant, especially after the way Lisel had spoken to Carla. Twilight encroached as he parked his expensive Mercedes sedan near the front gates of Krugerhoff. He sat there for a moment, studying the scene—he hadn’t been near Krugerhoff for years.