In the Vineyard Ch. 04

Ana woke early Tuesday morning. Last night was a little fuzzy - had she really called that radio program? And, she remembered the invitation to Miles. She wasn't certain now that was such a good idea. Maybe Veronica forgot to mail it. She'd call her after she had some coffee.

Before she could call, the phone was ringing. "Hello," she said, hoping it was Veronica.

"Hey, I hadn't heard from you since Saturday." It was Greg. "I just wondered how you were doing. How did your babysitting go?"

She remembered not to be too specific - babysitting was the excuse she'd used for Saturday. "Oh, it was fine. And, I had Veronica and Mary Pringle over last night. Sort of a girl's night in." She was hopeful that Greg didn't spend his time listening to Ask Someone's Mother.

It turned out that he hadn't. He said he'd had a business dinner last night.

"What about tonight?" he asked her. "Dinner?"

Ana wanted to agree, it seemed to be the easiest course of action. But, it somehow didn't seem quite fair. As if she was being unfaithful. Wait a minute, she told herself, you can't be unfaithful to a man you almost dated once, even if there is an invitation on its way in the mail. Yet, somehow, she just didn't feel right about going out with Greg tonight.

"Can we make it tomorrow?" That would give her a whole day to get her thoughts straight. Or, to come up with a valid excuse not to go. It was only Tuesday, but she couldn't stop thinking about Friday. Preparations to make, wine to buy, cleaning to do, clothes to decide on...

Greg was amenable to her suggestion, and said he'd call back tomorrow.

He didn't even ask her why tonight was bad. That made her feel even worse - Greg was such a nice guy, and she wasn't able to be honest with him. She decided that she must tell Greg if Miles showed up on Friday and if things worked out. A part of her wanted to find a way for she and Miles to run away from everyone and everything. None of Uncle Chester's warnings, no problems with Todd Formby, no curious girlfriends, and, most of all, no Greg to face. She realized that she had never actually completely cut Greg off. She hadn't made the clean break that would allow each of them to go on with their own lives. She changed her mind and vowed to herself that she would do that, even if Miles didn't show up, or if things didn't work out. Certainly her feelings were an indication that she must have some time and space away from Greg, even if it only turned out to be temporary. After all, she thought, they might still end up together one day. Maybe her interest in Miles was a fling, like Greg's lovers during the marriage. At any rate, it was only fair to each of them. And, the sooner the better. Dinner tomorrow night presented the logical opportunity. Besides, if she didn't do this, what would she tell Miles if he asked her about Greg again?

The rest of Tuesday and Wednesday flew by - after a quick telephone conversation in which Veronica verified that she had in fact mailed the card the night before, Ana planned and shopped, shopped and planned. You would think, she said to herself, that I was having a dinner party for 30 instead of wine for one. One man who might not even show. She even stopped worrying about how much things cost, and simply spent money. She bought new wineglasses - two each of several different shapes. She bought a new tablecloth - the old one had a big stain where a flower vase had once leaked. She bought a new, blue glass flower vase to replace the leaky one. She bought a pair of hand painted Italian small plates - along with the wine, she planned to have a few hors d'oervres, but no real meal. If things went well, she could always cook up something. She started shopping for wine - the truth was that she didn't have anything in mind when she told Mary to type on the card "I have some wine I want you to taste," so it had to be something really special. Unfortunately, other than one French rose, she didn't know that much about Miles' taste. She assumed he liked wines that were similar to the ones he made - big and bold red wines. So, she decided to find something different. She looked at all of the large wine stores in town - everyone assured her that they had just the right thing, but nothing jumped out at her. She finally gave up Wednesday afternoon, deciding that she could keep looking Thursday, even Friday during the day.

Greg showed up promptly at 7 on Wednesday evening. He was wearing a navy blue sportcoat, blue silk tee shirt, and grey light weight wool pants. Ana had chosen a dove grey slacks suit, with a lighter satin tank top under the jacket. She had matching grey shoes and handbag. She felt that the slacks gave her a little more of an authoritative air, something she wanted given what she had planned.

They dined at Bistro du Coin, an upscale French restaurant known for steaks and seafood. The restaurant's feature tonight was a chateaubriand for two, which they discussed, but Ana voted down. Somehow doesn't seem appropriate tonight, she was thinking. Greg was thinking the exact opposite, but didn't fight her. Instead, he ordered a pork dish and Ana ordered lamb chops. They drank a bottle of red wine from the Rhone region of France. Ana perused the wine list, looking for any help she might glean. She didn't see anything that looked unfamiliar.

As they finished the excellent main course, the waitress brought out dessert menus and a list of after dinner drinks. Greg was restless, Ana assumed he wanted to settle the bill and leave, but she hadn't gotten around to what she wanted to say. She ordered a glass of a Pear Eau di Vie. For courage, she thought. Greg considered it, and ordered one as well. Unknown to Ana, he also had something important on his mind. His 'business dinner' of Monday had been a meeting with Ana's father, who had come to the city from the lake house to pick up their mail. Ana's parents didn't like to have their mail forwarded for the summer, then changed back for the rest of the year, so they had it held at the post office and called for it every month or so. Greg called last week to see when Mr. Palmer's next trip was planned, and made an arrangement to meet. The purpose of the meeting was to ask Mr. Palmer for permission to ask Ana to re marry him.

"We're going nowhere fast, as things stand." Greg had said. "I think, Stew (Ana's father was Stewart, Stew to his friends), that Ana is going to continue to flounder until she gets some stability in her life." Ana's parents and Greg shared for a long time a concern that Ana was too focused on the wrong things - job instead of husband, now, talking about getting another job instead of taking the time off to think about starting a family, before she got any older. Stew gave his blessing and swore to keep it to himself until Greg had a chance to ask. Armed with this, and the original engagement ring which Greg kept since Ana returned it during the divorce, Greg felt he was as ready as he'd ever be.

"I have something to say," Ana said.

"Me, too," he replied.

"Oh, well, you first."

"No, you first. You said so first."

"Really, you can be first."

"Ok." Greg said. He looked around to see if anyone was watching them. Then he slipped off the chair and began to kneel. Ana, with horror, began to realize what was going on. She almost leapt off her chair, and landed next to Greg.

"Greg, please sit back down," she whispered to him. "Make it look like you've dropped something. Or, whatever. Just get back up."

Greg stared at her, but he sat back in the chair. She sat back down and regained her composure.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea. I should have said my piece first. Greg, its just not going anywhere. This isn't leading us to anything...."

He interrupted. "I know. That's what I think we need to take a serious step. And get engaged."

"No, Greg, I don't want to get engaged. Let's face it, we've never really acted like we were divorced."

"You're right. That was the biggest mistake I ever made. Letting you go through with that." He shook his head. "I know, it was absolutely my fault. But, Ana, I've realized what a mistake I made. And, I won't ever, ever be unfaithful to you again." He smiled at her. "Ana, honey, you mean so much to me. And your parents, well, they're like my own family now."

She patted the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, but the answer is no. Greg, I want us to try really breaking up." Seeing the upset look on his face, she added, quickly "Its not that we won't or can't get back together someday. I just really need some space right now. Blame it on losing my job if you like, but it seems like my whole world has turned upside down."

"Ana, you need some stability now, more than ever. And stability is something I can offer."

She shook her head. "Greg, its not right. It's not the right thing for me, or for you, right now. I realize that, and you need to try to." She looked up at him. "Maybe we should start seeing other people."

"Is that what this is about? There's someone else? Is it Todd Formby?" Seeing her make a face, he added "What about that Miles Delong? You were pretty taken by him when we ran into him at Novo Madrid. I'm telling you, Ana, you're making a mistake. No one will ever care for you and put up with as much as I have, or will."

Ana was a little angered by Greg's remark about putting up with things. But, she kept her feeling in check. "Greg, I can tell you with complete sincerity that I am not at this moment seeing anyone else. But, I won't promise that I won't ever. Nor, would I ask you to. Please, do this one thing for me. If you really do care for me, please, lets take some time off."

Greg shook his head. He finished his drink, paid the bill and they left in silence. He didn't try to speak to her on the way home. He didn't say a word until Ana got up to get out of the car.

"Ana." He grabbed her arm. "I will never stop caring for you. Please be careful."

She nodded. She realized as she walked into her condo that Greg had rarely used the word love in the course of their relationship. She wasn't surprised that he hadn't used it tonight.

After Monday's picking, Miles had a busy week planned. He was out Tuesday and part of Wednesday making deliveries to local stores. He spent Wednesday afternoon working on a mailing announcing the release of his 3 year old vintage Cabernet Franc. He also helped Scott, a parttime winery employee majoring in art at the university, put together a display of the wines. Scott piled up wooden wine boxes, and garnished them with artificial grapes of all colors. He wanted to hang some bottles to create a mobile of sorts, but Miles insisted he use empty ones. Miles recorked the one he had opened on Saturday, and then he labeled and corked a couple of empty Bordeaux style bottles. Scott had formed unique wire bottle holders and twisted around the bottom and led to a ring around the neck of the bottle. The holder had another ring, directed outward, which Scott rang metallic wire through. The wire was then attached to an old ornate brass hall tree, with the bottles hanging around. Scott was still fussing about the display when the mailman came in.

"Redecorating, I see," he said to Miles. Miles nodded. The mailman headed for the cash register, Kayla was standing behind the counter. She put her hand out for the mail, and he gave it to her. They exchanged a few sentences, then he left, waving at her. Kayla flipped through the mail as Miles approached. Scott was making him nervous, moving the full bottles as well as the empty ones around.

"Anything important?" he asked Kayla.

"Not so far," she replied. She was trying to flip through it all before Miles came close. To Kayla's relief, Scott dropped something and Miles rushed over. The something turned out to be an empty wine box, but it gave Kayla the time she needed to finish going through the mail. She found what she was looking for, a large ivory colored envelope with 'A Palmer on the return address. And, it was addressed to the attention of Miles Delong, "personal and confidential." Kayla glanced up to see Miles still supervising Scott's work. She separated the mail as usual, trade journals and advertising in the 'later' pile and bills or other mail in envelopes in the 'read now' pile. She was afraid to actually take Ana's envelope, instead she hid it down near the bottom of the 'later' pile. Miles sometimes went for weeks without looking through those things, they laid in a stack in his office. She smiled at the thought of Ms. Palmer waiting in vain for Miles. That would be the end of that!

Miles headed back toward Kayla, confident that Scott's display was now safe. He picked up the 'read now' pile without a word to her and walked off, and out the front door of the winery. Outside, Jimmy was just pulling up in his car, a late model compact station wagon. He saw Miles and shouted, "Hey, buddy! Don't forget about tomorrow night!"

"Don't worry. I can work you in. My social calendar is empty these days, but for grapes."

"Speaking of, how are we coming."

"I hope to finish next week. If we pick 3, maybe 4 days. Then, its over!"

"How are they?"

"Should be as close to perfect as they can be. It's been dry enough since the end of the summer. And, no real cold spell."

"Good deal. Is my friend Brandon about?"

"I haven't seen him. You might check the stock room. Any word on Jack?" Jack Formby had become ill during the last week. He had stayed in his house, essentially bedridden, which was unusual during the picking season. He usually came by most frequently to watch picking and bottling. Brandon was his caretaker when he was ill, he made the daily drive to Jack's condo in Mount Union, about 30 miles away. Todd usually claimed to be 'too busy' at the winery.

"Jack? No change. You should go see him," Jimmy said.

"I will. This weekend. He usually doesn't let anything get him down this long."

"I'm afraid that its really bad, from what Brandon says. Worst of all, he's really depressed. Keeps talking about not being around much longer."

"I'll go see him," said Miles with determination. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Well, if I don't see you later, I'll see you tomorrow."

Miles nodded. He went back to his living space and looked over the mail. The place seemed really empty today. He thought for a minute that he should get a cat. Cats seemed to required little care, and offered something to talk to, when you were all alone. But it wasn't a cat he wanted. He thought again about a certain red haired female, and was really sorry he'd lost her phone number. He should have grabbed her when she was here on Monday, and apologized for being such an ass on Saturday. After all, she was only being normal - every woman he'd ever been out with asked him dozens of questions. And, she did have some justification - it must have appeared that he was out on a date with Kayla the day before. Miles shook his head. No, it just wasn't the right time for something like that. Besides, she was obviously still involved with Greg - they'd probably end up married again. Miles looked over to the fireplace where he'd flung the glass. He had gotten as far as sweeping the pieces into one central pile, but hadn't picked them up. They were still sitting there, a kind of reminder of how his life had broken apart those years ago. And, it was still in some ways, broken. Miles looked at the shards of glass one more time, and ambled up the stairs. He dumped the contents of a jug bottle on his bed and started to sort the change. He'd need it for tomorrow's poker game.

Miles spent Thursday testing the grapes, checking his fermenting white wines, and cleaning the place up for the poker party. Jimmy came early, and took over the kitchen to prepare food to munch on. Knowing Jimmy's preference for southwestern style foods, Miles had purchased ample fresh tomatoes, chiles, avacados and both corn and flour tortillas. In addition to homemade salsa, Jimmy mixed a guacamole sauce, and a very spicy pepper relish. He also made some sausage stuffed tortillas, and brought with him a crock pot of black bean soup. By the time Jimmy was finished with food prep, Miles had run the vacuum, and cleaned up the bathroom, which was located just beside the kitchen. He went upstairs to the loft and pulled the bedspread across the make the bed look made. He piled most of the wooden boxes unseen behind the bed.

"Place looks great, " Jimmy said.

"Food smells great," Miles replied. "Thanks for doing all of that. I'm not nearly as good at food as you are."

There was a knock on the door, and it was Brandon. He was carrying a case of wine Miles had requested from the winery. He put the case down, and went back out. He returned carrying two large bottles - one of British gin and one of Scotch Whisky. Miles looked at him in amazement. "Don't you know how bad that stuff is for you?"

Jimmy jumped in. "Miles, Miles. Your mood has not gone unnoticed. We've seen you positively mooning over a certain attractive red head. We are coming to your rescue - our vow, to make you forget all women! For tonight at least!"

Brandon smiled and opened the Scotch. He took some paper cups from the table and poured a rough, very large, shot in each. "Cheers," he said, smiling at Miles. Miles frowned, sniffed the Scotch, and downed it in a gulp. He put the cup back on the table.

"Hit me."

Brandon looked a t Jimmy. "The man knows what he wants." He poured another. Miles again gulped it down.

"Better slow down," Jimmy said. "The others aren't even here yet."

Miles poured himself the next one. "You want to know the problem with women?" he said. He sipped the third shot slowly. "There are only two types. The ones who want sex, and the ones who want to own you. And," he said, taking another sip, "the ones I want to have sex with are of the latter type, the ones who want to own you. But, I don't want anyone to own me. Not right now, anyway."

Jimmy looked at him. "You're not making any sense."

"Damn right," Miles said, finishing the Scotch. "Can't drink this stuff," he continued. He rummaged through the box until he found a bottle of wine to his taste. He pulled his pocket knife out and pulled the cork. Picking up the paper cup, he frowned and put it down. He crossed to the kitchen and pulled down a wine glass. He poured a small glassful. Sniffing the glass, he said,

"You guys saw her. Do you think I'm crazy? She's beautiful, she's intelligent, she's a hard worker - did you see how hard she worked out here - and she's interested in wine. Who wouldn't fall for that?" Jimmy and Brandon laughed. "Present company excepted, " added Miles. "But, if you were me, I'm telling you, its like someone set me up, or something. Like if someone asked me to describe my ideal woman, it would be she. Or, her."

"Whichever." he added after a pause. He swirled the wine and stared at it. He took a small snip and sat the glass down, looking thoughtful.

Brandon said, "Then, why don't you go after her? Or she. Whichever."

"Won't work. I tried. Remember, I was borrowing your car. You must have noticed I didn't put any miles on it. I doubt if she ever wants to see me again. I'm surprised she came out on Monday, but she acted like nothing happened. I'm sure she just wants to forget it all."

"So, try again," Brandon said, encouragingly. "What've you got to lose, if you think she's already lost. I know some other couples who took a few tries to get their signals straight." He looked at Jimmy and smiled.

"Thanks, guys, for the pep talk or whatever. Fact is, Ana Palmer is a lost cause as far as Miles Delong is concerned. Lost!"

At that point, more knocking on the door. They were joined by two of Jimmy's college buddies, Doug and Steve, but Miles was never did remember which was who. In a few minutes, a couple more classmates arrived. All of college friends, several years younger than Jimmy or Brandon, enthusiastically dug into the liquor, wine, and food. Within a half hour, the place was beginning to show some wear. Miles opened his safe upstairs and lit up a cigar, after offering everyone else one. He hadn't smoked for years. He puffed on it and thought about the last time he'd smoked. He had quit just after coming to the winery. The cigar suddenly tasted off, and he extinguished it.