Sundown Crossing (22 page)

‘Sorry I’m late. Last minute drama at the office. Nothing serious,’ he said as he sat opposite her.

The problem had been Lisel who was in a vitriolic mood because an advertising program she had initiated had gone off the track—something that was
never
her fault, always someone else’s. He’d had to play the diplomat and damp her temper down before he left. His aunt could be a real problem sometimes and, more than once over the last twelve months he wished she’d take off on a long, all-expenses paid, fact-finding wine advertising mission to Europe or the United States of America. Personnel, particularly those involved with Lisel at Rhein Schloss, relaxed noticeably when she was overseas. Perhaps he’d suggest such a trip the next time they talked.

‘Been here long?’ Luke’s query was punctuated with a guilty smile.

‘A couple of minutes. Just long enough to thaw out.’

He laughed. ‘Cold? I’m sure here isn’t as cold as Christchurch is near winter’s end.’

‘True, but it’s cold enough for me.’

A waitress came along and presented them with individual menus and a wine list. They spent several minutes deciding what to order.

‘So, what’s happening at Sundown Crossing? Have you finished pruning the vines yet?’ Luke asked after the waitress had taken their order.

‘Almost. With days being shorter and me working for Paul four days a week, I don’t see much of the vines till the weekend. Angie said there’s about a dozen more rows to prune. She’s
trying to teach me the cycle of grape growing, explaining how and why the vine is dormant in winter, and that much of their food reserves are kept in their roots, safe from winter frosts, waiting for the warmer days of spring to burst into new life. I’m finding it very educational.’ Her lips formed a brief smile. ‘Of course you know all that. I’m only sorry my interest has come so recently. Dad wanted to teach me about winemaking, but when he was alive I wasn’t interested.’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, no doubt you were busy with other things and, if my memory’s correct, didn’t you tell me once that after your parents broke up you only saw your father a couple of times a year, until you were working?’ Carla looked at him, surprised. He remembered then that it was his mother who’d told him that. She and Carla had become close over the last several months. ‘It would have been difficult for him to teach you the cycle of grape growing if you weren’t with him for much of the time.’

He gave her a few seconds to absorb that, then asked, ‘So, things are going well with van Leeson? The job, I mean?’ Luke made the question sound casual but in all truth, as his interest in Carla had become more evident, he saw several eligible men in the Valley, Paul included, as possible rivals for her attention.

‘Very well. He’s so busy that some weeks I hardly see him.’

Good! It was hard to form an intimate relationship with someone if you hardly saw
them. Which was why he had to contrive to see Carla more often, and learn if something could develop between them. Of course if it
did
he didn’t know how he would explain it to his family but he’d leap that hurdle if and when the problem arose.

Their entrées arrived and they began to eat. Luke had seen the uncertainty on Carla’s face; she didn’t quite know how to take their newfound congeniality with each other. Instinct told him he had to break down her reserve and win her trust, a task he was going to work hard at achieving.

‘I heard that Conrad took the vintage off your hands.’

She stared at him, her expression cautious. ‘Yes. Walt’s generously agreed to act as middleman without charging a fee, for which Angie and I are grateful.’

Luke was aware that she knew he knew how tight her finances were at the moment, and that he had ventured onto a touchy subject by mentioning Conrad. He didn’t trust the man; quite a few in the Valley didn’t, but badmouthing him to Carla would only make her defend Walt and his wife more strenuously. ‘Well, I hope it works out for you.’

‘Do you?’ Carla queried with raised eyebrow.

‘Yes.’ And he meant it.
Now
it suited him for Sundown Crossing to do well, no matter what Grandfather wanted.

Their conversation paused while the waitress
took the entrée plates away and came back with their main course.

‘I hear that your son’s good at rugby.’

She smiled, pleased to change to a subject more to her liking. ‘Who told you that? I confess to being biased but I think Sam’s terrific at it; he tries so hard.’

‘Verne, his coach. We’ve known each other for years. He’s a member of the local rifle range. I’m a pistol shooter and I shoot there twice a month.’

‘Shooting. An unusual hobby?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m fairly average at it but I find it relaxing, like golf where, really, you might be playing to beat others but you’re also playing against yourself, against your weaknesses.’ He stared into her blue eyes for a moment or two. ‘What do you like to do in your spare time?’

‘First, I’d like to have some spare time,’ she answered with a wry smile. ‘Some days there aren’t enough hours in the day. Working for Paul, being with Sam, trying to learn how to be a winemaker—I think that’s going to take me forever. In New Zealand I used to do cross-country skiing, before Sam was born and…and Derek passed away.’

‘It’s been hard for you, Carla. I appreciate that.’

The expression in her blue eyes turned quizzical. ‘Do you?’

‘As much as a man can who’s had, by comparison with your life, an easy time of it. Silver spoon, top education, anything I wanted I usually got.’

‘Dad used to say that adversity breeds character.’ A whimsical smile hovered at the corners of her lips.

‘He was right. Rolfe had his share of hard times too.’ He could have added but didn’t,
thanks to his father’s harsh edict.
He didn’t have to, her expression, often closed and wary around him, at that moment was transparent. He saw that she had finished her meal and asked, ‘Got room for dessert?’

She chuckled. ‘If you’re paying, I have.’

Luke knew he was, he’d invited her out. He beckoned to the waitress to bring the menus over. They both decided on sticky date pudding.

‘This must be some kind of record. We’ve managed to get through more than an hour without having a disagreement.’ Luke pointed out. ‘That has to be a good sign, surely?’

‘It’s amazing what you can do if you try,’ she quipped, smiling to soften the sarcasm.

Briefly his hand covered hers, then moved away. ‘I agree. Then anything’s possible, wouldn’t you say?’

Over in a corner of The Park Restaurant, where the lighting was subdued, sat Josh Aldrich. He had come in after Luke and seeing his boss and Carla together, had sat somewhere unobtrusive to observe this unusual event. Luke and Carla dining together, Luke and Carla getting on! What was his boss thinking or…was he trying a different kind of strategy on her?

Fascinated and at the same time repelled by seeing them at the restaurant, Josh hadn’t enjoyed his meal nor the fact that he was too far away to hear the gist of their conversation, but the body language—especially from Luke—wasn’t hard to fathom. He knew what to look for. The concentration, the leaning forward to catch every word, studying her different nuances of expression when she didn’t know he was doing it. Luke was interested. Christ, yes, and from his behaviour it was more than casual interest.

A bubble of jealous bile lodged in his throat. Josh coughed and swallowed it. What on earth should he make of this new development? If Luke had, or intended to, cross over to Carla’s side it could change the balance of power at Rhein Schloss. Carl would not be happy but Luke was his heir and the only person in the Stenmark family capable of running their vast holdings. Lisel wasn’t up to it because she didn’t have Luke’s management abilities and wasn’t liked by most employees. Shit, things could get interesting, indeed they could. Carla and Greta were already friendly and if Carla and Luke became close, they could be a—what did the French call it?—
a tour de force,
leaving Lisel out in the cold because there was no love lost between aunt and niece.

Not that Josh cared a whit for Lisel, his own prospects at Rhein Schloss were what interested him and, if Carla was welcomed into the family,
he knew she wouldn’t want him around, especially after what he’d tried to do that night in the vineyard. His face went red as he recalled the embarrassment of being thwarted by her and Kim. No doubt they’d had a good laugh about it.

As a survivor, Josh reckoned it would be smart to initiate some kind of action to prevent the romance from deepening. Before Lisel went on a business trip to Melbourne tomorrow, he’d have a deep and meaningful with her.

Spring, 1995

C
arla sat on a park bench near the lake in Coulthard’s Reserve, her face raised towards the warming rays of the sun. Sam and Su Lee were riding their bikes around the park, returning only when they wanted a drink or a snack. They liked to ride here because the route was interesting, and this early in the day there were only a few people walking the path on which they rode. She checked her watch. 10.30. The church service at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church would end soon and Greta had intimated that if she could, she would join her for a chat. Carla looked forward to their sporadic meetings very much. Her aunt was a charming, warmhearted person and now that she and Luke had become more congenial, she believed she was really getting to know the family, other than her grandfather and Lisel, of course.

Once, during winter, she had spied Carl in the crowd at one of Sam’s football games but she had
been wise enough not to approach him. Sadly, he appeared older, his shoulders a little more hunched than when they’d met in the restaurant, his features set and serious. He’d stayed to see Sam score a try then, the next time she looked in his direction, he was gone.

The more she thought about her grandfather the greater her degree of compassion became. While there were always people around him, she believed that most of his life had been fraught with loneliness because of his beliefs and the rigid code he lived by. Losing his wife when she was only forty-eight, then banishing Rolfe, followed by Kurt’s and Marta’s deaths, it was little wonder that he now pinned his family’s future hopes on Luke. She didn’t envy her cousin the burden of running Rhein Schloss. Not that they were blood cousins, she reminded herself as she gazed at the view.

Rains over winter had filled the North Para River and the lake now had several different varieties of wild ducks and a pair of black swans and two downy cygnets. Spring, her third in the Barossa, was a pretty time. For her, understanding the cycle of the vines was a continuing learning experience. She and Angie had inspected the vines which were already experiencing their first bud burst, and at Sundown Crossing, they’d made sure that the soil around the trunks had been weeded to limit damage from any late, unseasonal frosts.

She knew the basics of what happened to the vines in spring and that soon after bud burst
tender shoots would appear. Then, within five to eight weeks of that, flowering would occur and the grape flowers would self-pollinate and set fruit. But there was still so much to learn, a whole lifetime of learning, she didn’t mind admitting and, fortunately, she had Angie, to instruct her.

Sam and Su Lee came back for a top up of fruit and cordial then sped off again on their bikes, joining several other young riders on the path, after which Carla returned to her mental meanderings. The relationship between herself and Luke was becoming interesting, surprisingly so, though she had more than an inkling that Angie didn’t approve. Angie still held fast to the belief, though she no longer came out and said so, that Paul was the right man for her. Not that she was looking for a mate, she wasn’t. Still, she would be deluding herself if she didn’t admit that she and Luke were…compatible, and that they’d found they had many common interests.

Whereas with Paul, his feelings were as easy to fathom as a book written in Arabic. At times she caught him watching her as she worked, an intense, inscrutable expression on his face but, apart from their working arrangement, the occasional dinner and reciprocal visits to each other’s homes, she hadn’t any real idea whether he might have any romantic inclinations towards her. And then, how did she feel? Well…she sighed as she threw more pieces of bread to the gathering of ducks near her feet. Too often for
her complete peace of mind she found herself thinking and dreaming about him.

Annoyed by her train of thought she shook her hair and ordered herself to think about something else—like the first time Greta came to the vineyard for afternoon tea. Angie, still suspicious of anyone with Stenmark blood running through their veins, had been formal and remote, while her own emotions had been a mixture of optimism fraught with tension, and concern that all would go well. Really though, she needn’t have worried. Greta had been…Greta! Friendly, outgoing, sincere. So much so that later, when she had analysed her aunt’s visit, she found it hard to believe that Greta and Lisel were sisters because the two women were so different.

She rationalised that their differing personalities could be because of the age gap between them, and she believed that Greta’s friendship with her was helping to soften Luke’s stance towards her. She’d discovered none of the Teutonic coldness in him which resided in their mutual grandfather. If Carl Stenmark had once had an ounce of warmth and humanity in him disappointment and grief had suffocated it. Carla was sufficiently mature to understand that, even if she couldn’t agree with it. Which made his interest in her son perplexing other than to view it as a way of him, through Sam, reliving the good times he had shared with the long-dead Kurt.

She glanced to her right, saw Greta walking at a brisk pace along the path towards her and waved a greeting. Her aunt, still reasonably slim and straight-backed, was up with the latest fashion, wearing a tailored three-piece bone suit and an emerald green blouse to give a lift to the neutral colour.

‘Good morning. Isn’t it lovely to feel the sun again? My ageing bones don’t like winter so much anymore,’ Greta confessed, and asked in the next breath, ‘Where’s Sam?’

‘Riding around the park with Su Lee. They should be back for a food-and-drink refill any minute now,’ Carla said as Greta sat beside her.

‘So, how are you?’ Greta asked, her light coloured grey-blue eyes studying her niece.

‘Very well. Sam and I, we’re both fine. Look, here they come…’ Carla pointed to the two racing along the path. Sam, always competitive, was edging ahead of Su Lee. Kim’s sister was four years older than Sam but wasn’t as well-coordinated or as daring. He almost came a cropper as he went over a bump in the bitumen but managed to right himself before he came off his bike.

‘He’s a real boy,’ Greta said with a chuckle. ‘Luke used to ride like a maniac when he was a youngster. Broke his arm twice before he made it to his teens.’ She gave Carla a sideways glance and, her tone casual, said, ‘He said you two had a nice day last Sunday, driving up to Waikerie, and having a pub lunch there.’

It wasn’t so much the comment as the glance and tone that made Carla smile. Instinct told her that Aunt Greta was fishing for information about herself and Luke. She remembered that Sam hadn’t been fussed about going with them, preferring a trip and the treat of taking in a movie in Gawler, the closest large town southwest of the Barossa Valley, with Angie. ‘We had a great day. Luke says I ought to know my way around this neck of the woods, see places outside the Valley.’

‘He’d know about that, what with his golf tournaments and such. Luke thinks nothing of driving a hundred or more kilometres for a tournament, a trait that mystifies Papa.’

‘Of course. All Grandfather knows is work.’

Greta shrugged. ‘The wine business is his life because he’s made it so.’

Carla didn’t inquire further but her aunt’s comment, her tone slightly critical, was a surprise. After months of snatched and at other times leisurely conversations with Greta she knew when to go forward on a topic and when to retreat. It was time for the latter. ‘I thought we might drive to Angaston for lunch. Would you care to come?’

‘How lovely, but I can’t. John and I have been invited to a formal luncheon at Chateau Tanunda. It’s business, and we’re expected to attend.’

Carla smiled away her disappointment. ‘That’s okay. Another time then.’

‘With pleasure.’

Greta’s reply, given with a regretful smile told Carla that she knew where she preferred to be. It gave her the impetus to broach something she had been thinking about for some time. Reaching into her canvas carry-all she pulled out a package wrapped in plastic. ‘I think it’s time you read this, Aunt Greta.’ She handed her aunt the package.

‘What is it?’

‘My father’s journal. He wrote it when he was a young man, still living at Stenhaus. It’s like a diary with day-to-day entries, his thoughts, his goals for Krugerhoff, that sort of thing. As well, he details his feelings and his romance with Marta, from his perspective. I believe you’ll find it interesting reading.’

Greta undid the package and took out the dog-eared journal. The ink on the first few pages was beginning to fade. She sighed and her expression set into sad lines. ‘He should have shown this to Papa. It might have made a difference.’

Carla shook her head and her own tone was reflective as she said, ‘We both know it wouldn’t have. Still, I’m sure Dad would like you to know the truth, albeit more than thirty years late.’

Greta rewrapped the journal. ‘I will take great care of it, Carla. I promise.’

She kissed her niece on the cheek. ‘Thank you for trusting me with it. And now,’ she checked her watch, ‘I’d better go. John hates to be late for
functions.’ As she walked along the path towards the car park, she gave Sam a goodbye wave and soon moved out of sight.

Showing off with a wheelie skid as he stopped near the bench where his mother sat, Sam begged, ‘Mum, when are we going to have lunch? I’m starving.’

‘Sam Hunter, you’ve been eating all morning. How can you possibly be hungry?’

‘Well, I am.’ Sam, seeking confirmation, glanced at his companion. ‘We are, aren’t we, Su Lee?’

The quiet Su Lee responded with a serious nod.

Carla gave in, as she had fully intended to. Grinning, she feigned an amazed expression. ‘Okay. Let’s stow your bikes in the boot, then we’ll drive to Angaston.’

It was mid-afternoon by the time Carla, Sam and Su Lee returned to Sundown Crossing only to find Angie pacing the front verandah of the cottage, waiting for them. Carla, immediately sensed that something was wrong because ninetenths of the time Angie was the calmest of people. Right now her skin tone was pale, her lower lip was sucked in—a sure sign that she was worried—and her hand movements were jerky and agitated.

Carla waited until Sam and Su Lee raced off to play then asked straight out, ‘What’s up?’

‘Come inside, I’ve been waiting for you to come back. We’ve got trouble.’

They sat at the dining table and Carla waited expectantly, trying not to let Angie’s concern transfer itself to her until she knew the situation. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Just about everything,’ Angie began cryptically. ‘Walt Conrad called, close to two hours ago. It’s about the wine we consigned to him for retailing.’

‘The consignment went weeks ago,’ Carla uttered what they both knew to be fact.

‘Yes. It’s been sitting on pallets in a warehouse in Adelaide until Walt finalised his deal. Ten per cent of the shipment was to be distributed to Adelaide liquor outlets and the rest was consigned to the Eastern States, to Melbourne and Sydney. With the small amount of publicity we had about winning the gold label he was able to unload ninety per cent of the vintage into the most populated areas of the two cities. Finally, the truck was loaded with our wine and went off on Friday morning.’

Puzzled, Carla frowned. ‘So…where’s the problem?’

‘Walt rang to say there’d been a transport accident. The truck taking our wine is a writeoff, as is all the stock it carried—damaged beyond salvaging. A one hundred per cent writeoff, according to the driver.’

Carla blanched at the news. Nine-tenths of their vintage destroyed. God, when was the good luck going to start coming their way? They’d been relying on the retailer’s cheque so much. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Yesterday afternoon, in country Victoria. Walt’s on his way there by car to assess the damage and learn exactly what happened.’ Angie gave Carla a moment or two to digest what she’d said. ‘There’s more, and it isn’t good! Walt admitted that he’d cut a few corners to get the Eastern States to take our product at a price that would net us a good return. He used a different contractor for delivery, a company he wasn’t familiar with, because they were cheap. The load wasn’t properly insured.’ She shook her head in disgust. ‘When the insurance paperwork is done he reckons we’ll only get about twenty per cent of costs back, and their cheque will probably take months to come through.’

Carla reacted, her hands banging down hard on the table-top as her features mirrored not only shock but her quick-to-ignite temper.
‘What!
I don’t believe it. Why, how could Walt be so stupid? He knew we were relying on that money, that we needed it to fund the next vintage and to pay a chunk off the bank loan. God, what was the man thinking?’

Carla watched Angie shrug, the gesture was as eloquent as any words could be. In the next instant her brain went into overdrive. They had counted on a one hundred per cent sale of their first vintage. Everything—Sundown Crossing’s survival—depended on it. She rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘I’ll make a pot of tea and we’ll brainstorm the problem. There has to be a way out of this mess,’
Angie threw the possibility back over her shoulder as she moved towards the kitchen. ‘And whether you like it or not, Carla, getting through this situation might come down to selling those uncultivated acres.’

Carla acknowledged that gloomy possibility with a nod of her head. As much as she didn’t want to sell an inch of land, it was now an option she couldn’t dismiss. ‘When is Walt going to call?’

‘After he gets to the accident site. He said to tell you how sorry he is about what’s happened and that somehow he’ll make it up to us.’

‘Oh, yeah!’ Carla’s lip curled derisively, her gaze rolling towards the ceiling. ‘How is he going to do that?’ She heard Angie’s heavy sigh from the kitchen.

‘He didn’t say.’

Damn!
Frustration began to well inside her as mentally and emotionally Carla absorbed this catastrophe. The truck accident…it just wasn’t fair. She blinked back a flood of threatening tears. What good would they do? Crying about the accident wasn’t going to solve anything. Her jaw tightened as she fought to keep her anger under control. She and Angie had trusted Walt Conrad, believed the man knew what he was doing. He’d let her and the vineyard down. And he wasn’t going to be out of pocket because he had insisted on not charging a fee to be the middleman and she, more fool her, had been full of gratitude for his generosity. Then a thought
lodged in her head. Had Luke and Josh been right about Walt? Was the man sly or inept as well as unprofessional? From where she sat at this moment, that’s how it looked.