The Riesling Retribution

Chapter 17

We spent Wednesday getting the equipment ready so we could bring the Riesling in the next day before Edouard’s rains arrived. Quinn’s commands were barked orders rather than the usual banter that went on with the cellar rats in the barrel room and the field crew, which only served to further ratchet up tension.

We weren’t the only vineyard in the region that decided to pick early, meaning there would be competition to get the experienced pickers. Last spring when we needed extra help for pruning, Chance hired a crew of day laborers from the migrant camp in Winchester. Unfortunately, none of them had ever held a pair of pruning shears before, much less worked in a vineyard. They either cut too much or too little and the result was a disaster.

Around ten o’clock I went over to the barrel room to check on things, arriving just in time to hear Quinn telling Chance not to bring him another inexperienced crew or else.

“You get over to the day laborer place early,” he was saying, “and you get me guys who know the difference between the sharp end of a pair of shears and the one with the holes for their fingers.”

The two of them faced each other near the row of stainless-steel tanks, Quinn’s voice echoing in the large space, reverberating with anger. Off to one side, Javier, Benny, and Tyler looked on. Tyler’s eyes were huge behind his glasses and Benny kept folding and unfolding the bill of his baseball cap like a book. Javier saw me come in. He glanced over and shook his head, warning me to stay where I was. The others didn’t notice.

“If you don’t like the crew I get for you, why don’t you take care of it yourself?” Chance replied.

“Because it’s your goddamn job, that’s why.”

“Then back off and let me do it.”

“Who are you telling to back off, asshole?”

It was over in seconds. Quinn lunged at Chance as Javier grabbed Quinn’s arms, speaking to him in rapid-fire Spanish. Chance looked like he was ready to start shoving Quinn, but Benny stepped in and pinned Chance’s hands behind his back. Chance tried to wrestle free.

“Don’t, Chance,” Tyler said. “Don’t do it.”

“Stop it, both of you! There will be no fighting here. Is that understood?” I walked toward them.

All of them froze, and Quinn turned toward me first, lowering his arms to his sides. He still looked like he regretted not throwing a punch or two. Chance shrugged off Benny like unwanted clothing and folded his arms across his chest, a hostile expression on his face.

“Everybody out of here except Quinn,” I said. “Chance, meet me in the villa in ten minutes. Benny and Javier, maybe you want to go for a smoke. Tyler…I don’t know. Take a break, okay?”

They filed past me, eyes downcast. The metal door to the barrel room clanked shut. Quinn looked elsewhere as they left, stoking my anger.

“Are you out of your mind? What was that all about? If Benny and Javier hadn’t stepped in, you and Chance would have gone at each other like a couple of street fighters. And you started it.”

He held up his hands. “Don’t talk to me about who started what. You know what I just found out? Either there are some cases of wine missing or our records are totally screwed up because the numbers don’t add up. And I haven’t got the goddamn time to deal with it now.”

“Are you accusing Chance—?”

“Him. Tyler. Somebody. I don’t know. Either way, Chance is a total screwup.” He ran a hand through his hair, more weary and at the end of his rope than I’d seen him before. “Dammit, Lucie. I want him out of here.”

I pressed my lips together. I didn’t need this right now. A squabble between two macho guys with egos, Chance accusing Quinn of abuse; Quinn claiming Chance was incompetent. The timing was lousy, on top of all our other problems.

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” I said. “We have the Riesling to get in tomorrow before the rain gets here. The reenactment’s this weekend. Harvest is biting us in the butt. Let’s get through the next few days without anyone spilling blood, okay? Back off with Chance and I’ll deal with him. I promise I’ll sit on him. You just steer clear of him.”

Quinn shook his head at the folly of my words. “You’re going to be sorry if we don’t cut him loose today.”

“I’m already plenty sorry about a lot of things, believe me,” I said. “But right now we need him.”

He stared at me. “Yes, boss.”

It was the first time he’d called me that. I ignored his mocking tone and left.

Chance was in the kitchen drinking coffee when I got back to the villa. I poured myself a cup and gave him the same ultimatum about no fighting.

He nodded. Like Quinn, he avoided looking at me.

“One more thing,” I said. “Do you know anything about missing cases of wine or a problem with records that don’t tally?”

His eyes hardened. “Is Quinn blaming me for that, too?”

“I don’t need your sarcasm and you didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s no.”

“You and Quinn need to cool it. And we’ll get to the bottom of this other stuff after we get the Riesling in.”

“Am I free to go?”

I didn’t like his belligerent tone of voice.

“Why don’t you take the lugs out to the fields and leave them at the end of the rows so they’re ready for tomorrow?”

“Whatever you say.”

“By the way,” I said, “for the time being, you report to me.”

He shot me a look of scorn and left. After I drank my coffee, I went back to the barrel room, but it was like being in a morgue. A mood of gloom and tension had settled over the place like a miasma and no one was talking to anyone.

I hated it.

Frankie called just before noon and asked if I could sign some papers. I fled to the villa, glad to escape the funk. When I got there, she was on the phone.

“It’s B.J.,” she said. “He’s on his way over with that other guy. Ray Vitale. They want to check out the site again. Something about finalizing the script for their battle. Can I just let them do their own thing or do you want to go with them?”

“They can go on their own. Tell B.J. to call me if there’s anything else they need.”

“Sure.”

She showed up in my office a few minutes later.

“I thought I’d run into Middleburg and pick up a sandwich at the deli and a piece of homemade pie from the Upper Crust. My treat for lunch. What can I bring you?”

“A piece of rawhide to chew on.”

She grinned. “How about turkey or ham?”

“Sorry. Turkey on a croissant? But I’m paying. I think you bought last time.”

Frankie walked over to the small closet in my office and took out her purse. “Forget it. You deserve some pampering after wading through all that testosterone over in the barrel room.”

She pulled out her wallet and looked up, a frown creasing her forehead.

“Maybe you’ll have to buy, after all. My credit card’s missing. Damn.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you misplaced it.”

“Nope. I’m a creature of habit. I always put it in the slot behind my license.”

“Check your purse. Maybe it fell out.”

She dumped the contents on the seat of a red-and-white flame-stitched wing chair my mother had recovered when this was her office.

“You were right.” She sounded relieved. “Here it is. At the bottom of my purse. Wonder how that happened?”

“Maybe you forgot to put it back the last time you used it. Or Tom used it and forgot to tell you?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. Tom has his own credit cards.”

“Why don’t you call the bank and make sure everything’s okay? You’ll probably feel better.”

“Maybe I’ll just drop by. It’s Blue Ridge Federal, so I pass it on the way to the bakery.”

She returned forty-five minutes later with the sandwiches and two glazed white bags from the bakery.

“I brought you a couple of cowpuddles from the Upper Crust. They just finished baking them. Place smelled great,” she said. “Sorry it took so long.”

She didn’t look happy.

“What happened?” I asked.

She pulled up the wing chair and took her sandwich out of the wrapper. “I canceled my credit card. Someone did use it. Today. Can you believe it? Two thousand dollars’ worth of stuff at Neiman Marcus.”

I set down my croissant. “It wasn’t Tom?”

“Tom’s allergic to shopping. I buy all his stuff. And I don’t spend two grand at Neiman’s.”

“Maybe it’s a mistake and got charged to the wrong account?”

Frankie bit into her sandwich. When she finished chewing she said, “I’m calling them after lunch. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but Brandi and Eli were in your office by themselves yesterday. My purse was in your closet like it always is.”

“Neiman’s is Brandi’s favorite store,” I said. “Why don’t you call them now?”

She called while we ate. Her end of the conversation was a lot of “uh-huhs” and “yups.”

“My husband must have ordered that,” she said, finally, “and forgot to tell me. I apologize. Umm, would you mind canceling the order, though? Thanks. Sure. I appreciate that. Sorry for the mix-up.”

She disconnected and met my eyes.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A couple of designer dresses and a jacket. They were supposed to be delivered to Forty-forty Hunting Horn Lane in Leesburg.”

Eli and Brandi’s address.

I felt ill. Brandi had told Eli to rob a bank if that’s what it took to get money. But there was a difference between being on the brink of homelessness or having nothing to eat and doing something stupid and reckless like stealing a credit card to buy designer clothing from an upscale department store.

“I don’t even know how to begin to apologize,” I said. “And I don’t understand why she’d do something this dumb. I’ll get a keyed lock put on that closet so no one but us has access to it from now on.”

Frankie was still watching me.

“If you want to press charges,” I said, “go ahead. I’m not going to make this difficult or awkward for you.”

“Lucie.” She picked at a piece of ham. “Brandi was never in your office on her own. Eli was. She joined him and then she left before he did. Even if she used the card, he would have had to know about it.” She let the rest of that thought hang in the air between us.

“You’re saying Eli used it?” I asked. “Sent Brandi a gift?”

“Maybe. Or at least knew she got the card and copied down the information.”

“That doesn’t sound like Eli. Desperate, yes. Dishonest, no.”

“How else do you explain it?” Frankie asked.

I put my sandwich down and folded the wrapper around it. I had lost my appetite.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m not going to press charges,” she said. “The credit card’s canceled so it can’t be used again. The stuff wasn’t shipped. Tom makes two thousand dollars in a couple of days, so it’s not about the money. But I am mad and I want an explanation and an apology. In return, I won’t report it to the sheriff.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Do you want me to talk to Eli, or do you want to do it?”

“You can do it.”

I nodded, feeling heartsick. My father had been called a murderer. Now my brother was branded a thief.

How much worse could it get?

I confronted Eli that night when we were having drinks on the veranda before dinner.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “You actually think I’d steal Frankie’s credit card and buy clothes for Brandi?”

“Either you did it or she did it,” I said. “Neiman’s confirmed the shipping address was your house.”

“It must have been Brandi because it wasn’t me.”

“Frankie said you both were in my office yesterday. She keeps her purse in that closet because we figured it was safer than stashing it under the bar.”

“I used the john,” he said. “Maybe she did it then.”

“Brandi needs to apologize in return for Frankie not reporting this to the sheriff.”

He snorted. “She’ll probably deny she did it.”

“Then the sheriff can ask her about it.”

“I’ll call her,” he said.

He took a long drink from his glass and looked at me like he was about to eat his last meal before the execution. “I’m accusing my soon to be ex-wife of credit card theft. She’s gonna love that.”

He went inside and made the call out of my earshot. Ten minutes later he returned. I noticed he had made himself another gin and tonic while he was in the house. Light on the ice.

“Well, that went down just great.” He sat down in the glider. “She thinks I’m out of my fricking mind and that it’s the beginning of a campaign to prove she’s an unfit mother so I can get custody of Hope.”

“She said she didn’t do it?”

“Nope. Said it’s some sick trick of mine.”

“You didn’t do it, either?”

“I told you already. No.”

I reached for my wineglass. “This doesn’t make sense.”

He set his drink on the glass-topped coffee table and moved it around and around in overlapping circles.

“I love her,” he said. “Even now. But she really is flipped out about being broke and on the verge of bankruptcy. I’m sure she’s in denial about a lot of stuff.”

“You mean denying she stole the card and bought those things?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I guess it’s up to Frankie what she’s going to do about this,” I said.

“I thought you said she wasn’t going to report it to the sheriff’s office.”

“That was before nobody admitted responsibility. She’s mad, Eli.”

“I’ll call her,” he said. “Maybe I can persuade her to let this slide. It’s not like anything happened since she was able to cancel the order. No harm, no foul. Right?”

He stood up and unclipped his phone from his belt again.

It wasn’t right. But he’d already gone back inside to call Frankie. When he came back, he looked relieved as he waved a hand at me.

“All taken care of,” he said. “She’s cool with it.”

I got up to make dinner, but my stomach was churning. What had happened to Eli? He used to know the difference between right and wrong. Getting away with something didn’t make it right. It just meant he’d gotten away with it and Frankie was too decent to hold either of them accountable. So now the theft was compounded by lying. What was cool about that?

I didn’t recognize any of the workers who showed up with Chance when we picked the Riesling the next morning. Quinn left me on the crush pad to supervise getting the grapes weighed and moved to the refrigerator truck.

“I’m going out in the field with these guys. Wait until I get back before we put the grapes through the destemmer,” he said. “I don’t have a good feeling about this crew. Some of them look like they never set foot in a vineyard before. Watch ’em all cut themselves with their pruning shears first thing when they start picking. I hope no one takes off a finger.”

“What are we going to do?” I asked. “This is who we have. It’s them or nobody.”

“I told you yesterday what we should have done,” he said. “Savannah said she’d be here in an hour, so that’s one more person. But I bet we have to sort what these guys pick. Then we’re going to have to go back out there and pick anything they missed. What a goddamn mess.”

I rubbed my temples. “I hope we can pull this off before it rains.”

He glared at me. “The good news is that, since we finally decided to make ice wine, we’re not picking everything. Maybe we’ll make more than we planned if these rubes leave a lot of fruit on the vines.”

“Maybe,” I said.

But later in the day as we began sorting the grapes, it began to look like the ice wine project was in jeopardy, too. Quinn set up a sorting table and both of us, along with Benny, Javier, and Tyler, began checking the grapes before putting them in the destemmer.

We worked for about ten minutes and it grew quieter and quieter.

“I don’t believe this,” Quinn said finally. “They picked everything. Unripe, ripe, overripe. We’re screwed. There’ll be nothing left to pick in the fall.”

“Maybe it’s only this batch,” I said. “Let’s keep going.”

But it wasn’t just one batch.

We worked outside through the afternoon as the sky grew darker and then the rains began. Benny and Javier moved everything under the overhang so we could keep going. Quinn had already started to press the first batch of grapes. We were barely speaking and I knew if he got his hands on Chance, who had driven the crew back to their camp, this time he’d kill him.

I saw Chance before Quinn did. Frankie called me when she was ready to lock up the villa for the evening and asked if I could drop by. Things had been awkward between us all day. I hoped she hadn’t decided to quit.

When I walked in she had two wineglasses set out.

“We need to talk,” she said. “Red or white?”

“Either.”

She gave me the choose-one look.

“How about white?” I said.

She poured from an opened bottle of Riesling.

“Brandi called me,” she said. “She wanted me to know she had nothing to do with those purchases. Says she’s pretty sure Eli must have done it because he’s so distraught at losing her. She thinks he thought maybe he could win her back that way.”

We touched glasses.

“Eli says he didn’t do it,” I said. “I know he’s my brother, but I believe him before I believe her.”

“She sounded pretty believable herself.”

We drank in silence. Frankie seemed to have made up her mind. I couldn’t blame her for believing Brandi. Either way, though, it was an ugly situation involving theft, fraud, and deceit. Tough to put a good spin on that and find anything to salvage.

“I’d like to reimburse you,” I said.

Frankie shook her head. “For what? The transaction was canceled. I wanted to tell you that I plan to put this behind me.”

I had no doubt she meant it, especially because she was watching me with her usual clear-eyed candor, waiting for me to accept her offer of a truce. But I still felt shamed, like a parent called into the principal’s office after some altercation involving a child had been dealt with and cleared up. Punishment and forgiveness had been dispensed, but what was lost—at least to me—were honor and integrity. There would be whispers and doubts the next time something like this happened, and Eli would always be a suspect.

“I’m still so embarrassed—”

She held up her hand. “Forget it. They’re both under a lot of strain. I don’t want this to come between us, Lucie. I have so much respect and admiration for you and what you’ve done to turn this vineyard around. You can’t take the weight of everyone else’s problems on your shoulders. Not even your own family.”

“First, Leland. Now Eli. I feel rotten.”

She squeezed my arm. “I know you do. That’s why you need to promise me we’re going to move past this.”

“I can’t have Eli working here anymore, can I?” I drained my glass.

“I wouldn’t put him in a situation where he’s handling money right now,” she said. “Would you?”

“No.”

That was the quid pro quo she wanted and, as usual, she had finessed her request. We couldn’t afford another scandal. She was willing to sweep this one under the carpet. But next time…?

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll handle it. I’ll tell Eli we don’t need him helping here anymore. He’s not stupid. He’ll get the message.”

We finished our wine.

“Want another glass?” Frankie asked.

“I’d better not. I need to get back to the barrel room. I think we’re going to be here all night with the Riesling. I don’t know where Chance dug up that crew we had today, but they picked everything. Quinn wants him gone, too.”

“I heard,” she said. “Look, go on back. I’ll close up.”

I stood as Frankie began turning off lights. She paused to look out one of the windows.

“Speak of the devil. Chance is just getting out of the pickup.”

“Oh, God,” I said. “I need to get to him before Quinn does.”

We met just inside the courtyard archway. Bruja, who had been following her master, wagged her tail and came to me so I could pet her.

“I ran the crew back to the camp,” he said. “You guys done with getting the Riesling in the tanks already?”

“We haven’t even started,” I said. “Because we have to sort the grapes by hand. All of them.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

The rain had temporarily let up but the air still felt heavy and damp. I watched Chance and wondered if Quinn was right that he was completely incompetent. How could he not know what he’d done?

“Your crew picked everything, Chance. The only thing that could have been worse would be sawing off the vines and dragging those back, too. It’s like they’d never worked as pickers before. Of anything. Where’d you get them, anyway?”

“Same place I always get them. The camp in Winchester.”

“Where’d you really get them?”

“I told you. The camp in Winchester. Look, remember what I said before?” he asked. “Quinn works those men like dogs. If anyone complains he threatens to sic Homeland Security on them. Word gets around, Lucie. You’re lucky I got who I got.”

“I’ve never seen Quinn act like that.”

“You’re not out in the field every day. How would you know?”

“How come my other manager never told me about it?”

“I didn’t know your other manager, but maybe he closed his eyes. Or maybe he didn’t think of day laborers as anything other than one step up from a chain gang.”

“That’s not true!”

“What did you say about a chain gang?”

Quinn’s voice, behind me. I turned around. It was just the two of them and me. Quinn moved closer until he was standing about a foot away from Chance. I was not going to be able to stop this fight.

“I’m handling this, Quinn,” I said. “Let me settle it.”

“Tell this asshole to clear out. He’s through here.”

“Who’re you telling to leave, buddy? You don’t run the place.”

“I said, clear out.”

“That’s enough,” I said. “Quinn, don’t—”

Chance smirked. “Seems the boss doesn’t agree with you, Quinn. Go on, Lucie. You’re not going to let him bully you like he bullies everyone else—”

Quinn cut him off with a hard blow to his stomach. Chance doubled over and groaned.

“Stop it!” I said. “Quinn! Are you out of your mind? Don’t do this.”

“Get out of here,” he said to Chance. “You’re through.”

He turned his back on Chance and started to walk away. Chance raised his head, a look of cold fury on his face, and charged after him. I heard Quinn’s “ouf” as Chance tackled him and the sound of Quinn’s head hitting the ground. He looked dazed, as though the blow had knocked the wind out of him.

“Get up,” Chance said. “Get up and fight me, old guy.”

“Don’t do it! Chance, Quinn!”

“Get out of here, Lucie,” Chance said. “Get lost and let us finish this.”

As he spoke, Quinn got up. This time Chance was ready. He landed a precise flurry of hooks and jabs before Quinn could raise his fists to defend himself. Quinn staggered backward as blood poured from his nose. Chance went after him, punching him hard in the gut, but when Quinn went down, he managed to take Chance with him. I heard their animal grunts as their fists connected with flesh and bone.

Involuntary manslaughter…was that what they called it when someone died in a fight? This had to stop.

I pulled out my phone and called Benny.

“You and Javier, come quick to the courtyard! They’re killing each other!”

By the time the two of them pulled Quinn and Chance apart, I wanted to call an ambulance. No one would let me.

“You’ll get the sheriff involved.” Quinn’s words were slurred. “Don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine.”

Tyler showed up then, wild-eyed.

“Get the first aid kit,” I said, and he fled.

Quinn had gotten the worst of it, or at least there was more blood on his face and clothes. Benny stood by Chance, who was still doubled over holding his ribs. Quinn lay on the ground as Javier tended to him. I heard him mumble to Javier that he was fine, nothing broken.

“That guy is crazy.” Chance straightened up. He was breathing hard as he pointed at Quinn. “And so are you, Lucie, if you let him work here.”

Quinn groaned and sat up. One eye was swollen and his face looked like a piece of raw meat.

“Get rid of him,” Quinn said and coughed. “He’s trouble.”

“So what’ll it be, Lucie?” Chance’s laugh was harsh and challenging. “You can’t keep both of us around. You know that.”

“No.” My voice sounded far away. “I can’t.”

“You’re not thinking…” Quinn watched me, incredulous. “Come on, Lucie. He’s just messing with your head.”

Chance smiled and winked at me. My eyes traveled from him to Quinn. How had it come to this? Was I really contemplating choosing between them? It was Quinn’s fault for forcing this showdown, wasn’t it? In spite of my feelings for him, I needed to be objective, do what was best for the vineyard, the crew…

“You know, Chance, I really like you.” My voice wavered.

“Aw, Lucie…” Quinn’s eyes were anguished. “I don’t believe this.”

I cleared my throat. “As I was saying, I really like you, Chance. You’ve charmed our customers and the crew likes you, too.”

Chance was grinning now, his eyes holding mine in triumph.

“But I guess I’m just crazy,” I continued, “because ever since you joined us, there has never been so much ill will and so many screwups and mistakes as there have been these last few months. And because you laid it down as he goes or I go, I’m firing you. I want you gone now, Chance. Get your stuff and get out of here.”