The Maxwell Sisters (26 page)

‘Dad, why are you telling me all this?'

He paused, his brow creasing. ‘Sometimes what you want is not always what you need. And what you have is not actually what you think you've got. Wine tastes very different when you put it with a meal. And unless you've tasted the two together, how can you be certain exactly what wine to choose?'

She finally grasped what he was getting at. Her path was so confusing because the truth was hazy. She didn't have all the information she needed to make this call now.

‘But, Dad, that's why I'm asking you what you think I should do with regards to Spider, because I honestly don't know.'

He smiled sadly. ‘Darling, is it me you should be asking? Or do you really need a good chef?'

A good chef? She swallowed hard.
Spider.
He was telling her to confront Spider. He must have seen the disquiet in her eyes – the terror of asking for fear of hearing the answer.

‘And now, darling,' he stood up, ‘
now
I'm talking about courage.'

Eve enjoyed her day out with Tash. After their deep and meaningful on Sunday, both girls seemed inclined to stick with lighter topics. It was so lovely to feel like friends again. The morning was also productive. They both ordered their bridesmaids' dresses and got the DJ sorted. It was easy to shop for gowns together because they looked good in the same colours and styles. In contrast to Phoebe, they also had the same taste in patterns – simple and elegant. Phee was the flamboyant one.

There was, of course, the situation with their father to throw a dampener on the outing. They hadn't managed to find a moment alone with him to question him about his affair. That morning, Phoebe had managed to corner him first and they supposed she had the right after his cheeky comment at breakfast.

‘We'll just have to wait till tonight or tomorrow,' Tash sighed. ‘I suppose no more harm can be done in the meantime.'

‘No, I suppose not,' Eve agreed but she wasn't happy with the situation either. She'd always relied on her father to be the rock in the family. And, until this point, he had never let them down. She now couldn't look at him the same and it weighed on her.

Someone else who weighed on her was Adam Carter aka Adonis.

She had not made him breakfast at the restaurant that morning. Nor did she have any intention of doing so in the near future. Her secret appeared to still be safe but for how long remained a mystery. The truth was she wasn't quite sure if he really was serious about blackmailing her. She found his half-joking, half-teasing manner rather alarming.

Another problem, perhaps not as serious as the first, was the question of Tash's dressing gown. Where the hell was it? Yesterday, she had discreetly checked out the kitchen floor in the restaurant. But it was gone. She guessed Adonis must have removed it, perhaps even put it in the bin. She supposed that this was reasonable. After all, who would want to wear a dressing gown with burnt sleeves? Still, she would have liked the option of throwing it out herself. In any event, this meant she would need to find some time to purchase Tash a new dressing gown and dream up a story to explain to her how or why the first one needed to be thrown out.

When Eve and Natasha arrived home later that afternoon, Adonis was talking to Heath and her father in the sitting room. Dusty and sweaty from his work on the restaurant or in the winery that day, he still managed to look delicious. Ashamedly, it took her a little more than ten seconds to calm her heart rate at the sight of him.

‘Hi, guys.' He addressed Tash as well, though his eyes rested slightly longer on her. ‘I have some good news and some bad news.'

‘What's the bad news?' Tash pounced – always the first to hit conflict in the face.

He grinned. ‘No wedding or restaurant stuff tomorrow.'

‘And the good news?' Tash lifted an eyebrow.

‘I've decided to take the chardonnay off.' Adonis rubbed his hands together. ‘And your father agrees.'

‘Not me,' John grunted. ‘The cosmos. It's a harvest moon tomorrow night. Energy will be drawn into the grapes from the soil – just as the moon pulls the tides.'

‘They're also at their ripest,' Adonis added with a rush of enthusiasm. ‘Great sugar, tannins and acid.'

John seemed amused. ‘How do you know?'

‘Refractometer and titration tests in the lab,' Adonis rattled off with a sideways glance at John. ‘They're good.'

John sighed. ‘Yes, but did you taste one?'

‘Taste what?' Adonis raised his eyebrows.

‘A grape.'

‘'Course I did, Max.' He grinned and cocked his head with that teasing look Eve so enjoyed.

‘
And?
' Her father's brow lightened.

Adonis's eyes twinkled. ‘As perfect as God meant it to be.'

‘That's what I like to hear.' John's wrinkled face softened.

‘Anyway,' Adonis turned back to Eve and Tash, ‘we've got a heatwave coming through, starting Thursday. I'd rather get them off at first light tomorrow morning. And I'll need everyone's help to accomplish that as quickly as possible.'

There was a collective groan at the earliness of the hour. But Eve knew from childhood that it was necessary. You had to pick the grapes at their coldest because it caused better retention of the fruit flavours in the wine. Picking early morning meant the sun hadn't warmed them yet. At Tawny Brooks they only handpicked because their father thought it was better for the vine. Grape-pickers were gentler with the grapes and they wouldn't add unhealthy bunches to their tubs, so sorting was not required afterwards.

If Mad Maxwell allowed machine harvesting, it would take less manpower and they could pick the grapes through the night as not much light was required. She knew Oak Hills sometimes picked theirs at one or two in the morning, but it was not her father's way.

‘What do you say?' Adonis looked around at the gathered company.

Heath glanced at Tash. ‘I'm in. Tash?'

‘Sure.' She nodded without returning her husband's gaze. ‘I'm sure Phoebe and Spider will understand. They'll probably help too. I'm not sure about Patricia and Graeme though. They're not exactly nature lovers.'

Adonis looked directly at her then. ‘What about you, Eve? Are you in?'

She lifted her chin. ‘Of course.'

‘Good,' he nodded and then, with another rub of his hands, headed for the door. ‘I think I'll go find Phoebe and Spider now. Tell 'em the good news.'

‘Tash,' Heath held out a hand to her sister, ‘do you want to go for a walk? It's pretty nice out.'

‘Er …' Tash looked uncomfortable. ‘No thanks.'

He put his hand back in his pocket, a rather closed expression masking his face. Eve glanced from one to the other, feeling sorry for Heath. Why was Tash being so cold to him?

‘Eve and I need to talk to Dad,' she said by way of explanation.

‘Oh?' Heath raised his brows.

Their father looked up from contemplation of a family photo on the mantelpiece. His faraway look seemed to refocus. ‘Really?'

‘Yes,' Tash nodded firmly. ‘Alone. It's a touchy subject.'

With a faint smile, Mad Maxwell shook his head. ‘In that case, darling, go for a walk with your husband because I'm not ready to talk.'

Eve blinked in shock. ‘You know what we're going to say?'

He sucked in a breath and released it. ‘I have an inkling. And I most certainly don't want to talk about this right before Adam's harvest.'

‘But –'

‘It'll destroy all the positive energy in the atmosphere and sour my grapes!'

‘Dad –'

‘No.' He waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I'm going to go play some music to my vines in preparation for harvest.' And then he headed for the door, leaving them both thoroughly dissatisfied.

Tash snorted. ‘Is it just me or sometimes do you just want to shake him?'

Eve smiled. ‘It's not just you.'

‘Tash?' Heath looked at her questioningly again, an aching sense of vulnerability that Eve had never seen before clouding his face. She found herself wishing that Tash would just say ‘yes' and not turn him down for that walk a second time, though it looked like her sister very much wanted to do so.

Tash licked her lips. ‘Ah, Eve, did you want to come?'

Eve glanced from one to the other. Something was definitely up between these two. And she sure as hell wasn't going to get right in the middle of it. She'd had enough of that with Spider and Phoebe. For all their advice to her on men, her sisters really needed to sort out their own backyards before they came preaching to her.

‘No.' She waved her hand airily, flopping down on the couch as though she hadn't noticed anything untoward going on at all. ‘You guys go. I'm pooped. I might just sit here and read for a bit.'

 

Despite the early hour, it was a marvellous feeling to be out in the vineyard at dawn, enveloped by nature and refreshed by birdsong. The sun was still low on the horizon, giving the trees and the vine that gentle backlight that made their leaves look like they were outlined in gold. Eve dressed lightly, in a t-shirt, shorts and high-visibility vest. Everyone wore gumboots too because they were easy to clean sticky juice off and, of course, a hat and sunscreen.

It was a relief to be taking a break from the wedding and restaurant, if only for a day. Slow repetitive work in the crisp morning air seemed preferable to the high tension breakfast that had characterised all her mornings so far. Not that they were skipping breakfast that day.

Her mother was cooking up a big brunch to be served mid-morning when they were finished. Eve was sure by then she'd be ravenous.

The night before some of the vineyard workers had put out the ten kilo picking bins for them to fill throughout the section of vineyard they were harvesting. Adonis had pretty much worked out where he wanted everyone. That morning they dotted the fields with a pair of secateurs each, dropping grapes into the bins that had been placed there. Parked in one corner was a ute with a half tonne collection tub on a trailer hooked up to the back. A couple of vineyard guys were walking around picking up the full bins and emptying them into the larger collection tub. Adonis had given her the smallest area to take care of. So she was likely to finish first especially given she was an old hand at this. Her childhood had been full of harvest experiences. It was how she'd stumbled upon her first kiss – early morning pickings with an Italian backpacker they'd employed during one vintage, a rascally fellow with designs on most women in town. She wasn't the only person he'd kissed that season and he was gone the next. As grape-picking was required for such a select time of year, her father tended to employ students, travellers, friends and family.

Chop, drop, chop, drop. She smiled at the simplicity of the task but she was by no means bored. Not with the grasshoppers clicking around her and honeyeaters coming to say hello. She even got a look in from a fieldmouse who nonchalantly ran over her boots.

Some of the others wore gloves but she didn't. She liked the stickiness of the grapes on her fingers. The texture of the pretty three-pointed vine leaves brushing the backs of her hands. She figured when she was done with her section she'd just help someone else with theirs. However, as if he had a sixth sense, Adonis showed up just when she was filling her last bucket.

‘Hey.' He moved in close to help her with a cocky smile and her traitorous heart began to thud faster. ‘The collection tub on the ute is just about full so I'm going to drive it back to the winery soon. When you're done, can you come with me?'

‘Why?'

‘I need your help tipping the bin into the hopper.'

She raised her eyebrows. ‘You can't get one of the vineyard workers to assist you?'

He grinned. ‘They're all in the field. And you're the first one to finish.'

She was getting the distinct impression he'd planned it that way and so decided to play hard to get.

‘I'm not finished.'

‘Why do you think I'm helping you?' She caught her breath as his arm brushed hers while he pushed some foliage out of the way to get another bunch of grapes for her bucket.

‘Do you mind?'

‘Not at all,' he responded unrepentantly. ‘Happy to speed up your process for you.'

She groaned.

‘Besides,' he murmured, ‘this will give us a chance to talk.'

‘About what?' she demanded nervously.

‘Breakfast,' he grinned. ‘We kind of never set a date.'

‘That's because it's not happening.' She kept her eyes on the task. ‘I can't risk being caught in that kitchen.'

He sighed, for once losing that teasing note in his voice. ‘I don't get it. Why does this mean so much to you?'

‘I told you,' she replied harshly, ‘if my family catch me in there they'll just put a lot of pressure on me to return and I can't handle that. They are already re-opening the restaurant for one night because of the wedding. I don't want to get their hopes up.'

‘Eve, you're a fabulous cook. Why do you think I want you to make me breakfast?'

‘Because you like annoying me.'

He grinned. ‘Yes, I do. But have you considered,' he stopped harvesting to study her thoughtfully, ‘that maybe someone should be putting pressure on you to return to the restaurant?'

She glanced at him in horror. ‘That's not your concern.' She turned back to the vine, snipping at a couple of stalks rather roughly.

‘Okay.' He grabbed her wrist to steady her jerky movements. ‘There's no need to get narky.' Her skin tingled as he released her. ‘Why can't you return?'

‘That restaurant was my dream since I was a little girl,' she whispered. ‘And I stuffed it up.'

He folded his arms. ‘So now you're just giving up? Running away from all you ever wanted?'

She smirked at him. ‘Isn't that what you did when you left the Barossa?'

He clicked his tongue. ‘Touché. But I can't have back what I lost, Eve. I had no choice but to start again somewhere new. You can still have your dream.'

‘No, I can't.'

‘Why not?'

His voice sounded so matter of fact, so clinical, that the only desire she had was to wipe that self-assurance from his expression – show him how little he really knew. As a result, she spoke before she had the wisdom to express herself less passionately.

‘Because I wasn't good enough. It was all Spider's talent that kept the restaurant open, not mine. When he lost interest, so did our customers.'

‘That's bollocks. The truth is, when you found out he had no interest
in you
, that's when it all went to shit.'

She shrugged. ‘What's the difference?'

‘A very big one, I imagine,' he nodded. ‘You didn't fail at running a restaurant because you were incompetent, Eve,' he said shrewdly. ‘You failed because you were nursing a broken heart. I hardly think the same thing is going to happen again. Unless you still have feelings for him.'