Christmas in Wine Country (15 page)

Unaccustomed as Vanessa was to either the informal or formal use of the appellation “brother”, she glared in his direction.

“Hey, I know you,” he called out, looking at Annie and starting toward them.

Busy arranging delicate displays into cardboard pallets, Annie gave a quick glance up. “Oh yeah.” Annie sounded decidedly neutral. “Hi.”

“This way,” Vanessa summoned her staff, Annie and Lila included.

“You don’t have to come deal with this,” Annie murmured to Lila. 

“Really? Because—”

“Really,” Annie assured her. “But this might take a little while. I’m sorry. You can wait in the car?”

“Got some time on your hands?” Up close, tattoo guy had several days of blond scruff on his admittedly friendly face. “Wanna come help the bluebirds?” he asked Lila. “It won’t take long.”

“Lila really likes to help bluebirds,” Annie volunteered. Leaning in before she left, she murmured to Lila, “He’s harmless. Used to date Zoe.”

Curious at this new bit of information, Lila accepted the offer. Up in the cab of the pick-up truck with her new farmer friend, they started along a dirt road. She rolled down the window and looked out at two tractors making their way through rows dotted in
green beneath the cloudless blue sky. The truck passed a couple of wooden structures, one flanked by a low stone wall, the other by large, shiny metal holding tanks. Wildflowers dotted the grass, bright purple lupin
e
and tiny white and yellow mustard. Lila watched birds swoop and glide alongside the truck and decided that there were plenty worse ways to spend a sunny early spring day.

“You stoked?” the tattoo guy asked, shifting the truck into gear. “One last stop and we’re off.” He pulled up in front of a cottage and beeped the horn. Jake walked out of the door. No sign of either a dinner jacket or a Burberry trenchcoat, he jogged toward the truck in a faded t-shirt and jeans. 

Frozen, Lila watched as he approached. He opened the door, saw her and did a startled double-take. Adjusting the brim of his baseball cap and looking at Lila he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“She’s our talisman today, dude. Our good luck charm. Hop on in.”

“I was helping Annie,” Lila stammered as he climbed up and in next to her. “Annie’s my friend who works at the chocolate shop in town.”

“I know who Annie is.”

“I was helping her this morning and then Vanessa came out and then…” Taking a moment to consider, Lila amended her story by admitting, “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“None of us do, wise owl.” The scruffy guy patted her leg. Lila subsequently tucked it under her other leg in an attempt to make no contact with either man. It being a bumpy dirt road, that proved impossible. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lila.”

“I’m Ahanu.”

“Oh.”

“It’s Algonquin for ‘he laughs.’”

Lila stole a glance at the blond, blue-eyed man and wondered about the Algonquin; was he Native American?

“He’s not,” Jake murmured to her right. “Just took the name.” Lila nodded, marveling not for the first time at that quintessentially Californian talent for self-invention.

Stiff and awkward as she felt between funky earth-man Ahanu and Titan of Industry-cum-farmer Jake, Lila tried to think of something to say. Small town, huh? came to mind since she seemed to run into Jake with alarming frequency. Recalling the scene from Ted’s last weekend, she could always ask, ‘So, how are things with Vanessa?’

Instead, the three sat in silence with the truck’s windows rolled down letting in the rich and sweet smells of early spring. A river full from winter’s rains rushed by to their left. Lila could see rolling hills in the distance, green as Ireland and dotted with trees. To their right, they began passing row after row of vines marked with evenly spaced
wooden stakes. A tall border of Tuscan-style pines, long, thin and elegant in the breeze, created a natural border between sections. Lila didn’t think she’d ever seen such a striking combination of lush wild juxtaposed against the careful lines of cultivation.

             
“Wow,” Lila found herself exhaling. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never been to a vineyard before.”

Both men asked, “Really?”

She shook her head no, suddenly self-conscious and wondering why she’d told them that.

“Well, you’ll see a good overview of our place. We’re heading out to a far corner.” Jake pointed to a patch with more green than the rest. “Over there we’re doing some planting.” He then began speaking a language Lila didn’t recognize involving grafting, budwood and budstick canes, and high-percentage takes. Unsure where to even start with a question, Lila simply listened and appreciated the beauty. Along the bank of the river, she could imagine spreading a picnic blanket and having quite a nice afternoon. 

“It’s really beautiful.” She realized she was repeating herself but the scenery seemed to be relaxing her powers of speech.

“You’ve never been to a vineyard before?” Jake seemed compelled
to
ask again.

“Nope.”

“But, were you living in San Francisco?”

“Yes.” Lila felt a degree of defensiveness creep into her answer.

“For how long?”

“Five years.” She paused as her defensive tide rose. “A lot of people in the city don’t leave that often. There’s a lot to do there. And I had a really demanding job.” The words sounded exceptionally hollow to herself as she wondered how, indeed, she’d spent five long years without ever doing more than a few quick daytrips to visit Annie.  People traveled the world over to come see Northern California’s wine country; Lila regularly noted tour buses parked downtown even during the rainy season.

“Did you like living there?” Jake asked.

“Well…” She’d spent the majority of the past five years trying to like the city, feeling very much that she should like it, that she was undeniably lame for not liking it. If she were cooler, she knew she would. Phillip—along with, seemingly, everyone else in her office—had thrived on it. They raved about the city’s energy and heartbeat and were always on the lookout for the newest, hottest nightclub/restaurant/bar.

Lila remembered feeling small and cold amidst windy, gray days sandwiched between tall, gray buildings. Weekend mornings she’d lie in her bed in her tiny apartment, a pillow over her head to block out the car alarms.

“I don’t like it either,” Jake said. 

“Really?”

He shook his head no. Lila wondered how that went over with his red-clawed girlfriend.

Beside her, Ahanu adjusted his cowboy hat and Lila caught a ripe whiff of stank. Could there be cow manure in the truck? Vomit on the seat? Ahanu rose his arm once again to give his forehead another scratch and Lila put it together: hippie stank. Ahanu was one with the earth, so much so that he never washed it off.

Thankfully, he pulled the truck over and hopped out so Lila could get a deep gulp of fresh air. About to follow him out, Jake put his hand up to stop her. “I wouldn’t.” Pointing down to what she was about to jump out into, Lila realized both guys wore boots now inches deep in squelching mud.

“Right,” Lila slid back onto the seat sheepishly, looking down at the adorable strappy sandals she’d chosen that morning in homage to the sun. Perfect for saying a quick hi to Annie at the chocolate shop and heading to the market. “I didn’t know I’d be coming here,” she started to explain
,
but Jake had already gone, striding surprisingly quickly given the mud
,
toward the center of a waist-high row of vines. Watching as Ahanu stood tall to peek into a simple, wooden birdhouse attached to a thick stake at the end of the row, she tried to figure out he was doing. Did he have to muck out a tiny stall?

“You have to check ‘em at least once a week,” Ahanu said as he hopped back into the truck.

“So, those are the grapes?” Lila asked, pointing at the rows of twisty brown vines with early sprouts of green. She wanted to get all the stupid questions out of the way before Jake returned.

“Will be,” Ahanu confirmed.

“And what are you doing with the bluebird houses?” 

“Making sure they’re in good shape. Entry hole isn’t plugged up. Sparrows aren’t setting up shop.” Jake climbed back in and Ahanu put the truck in drive once again. “Later, we’ll check on the chicks.”
             
“That’s nice.” Lila pictured tiny, fluffy baby bluebirds.

“We’re checking for blowfly larvae,” Jake corrected her mental image. “And when we find it we have to pick it off.” Finding that image less appealing, Lila made a face.

“Better than spraying the shit out of everything,” Ahanu said.

“Bluebirds are a good natural pesticide,” Jake explained. “They eat insects.”

As they pulled up in front of the next bluebird house and Jake hopped out, Ahanu called after him, “We know you love Mother Earth, dude.” Turning to Lila, he laughed, “I love teasing that guy. He’s uptight. But he’s leading the revolution.” With a fist high in the air, Ahanu slipped out and jogged down the row of vines.

Jake climbed back in. Fearing they might sit in silence until their companion’s return, Lila ventured, “So, you’re doing…” She searched for the right words. He didn’t help. “Sustainable farming?” she finally tried.

“Trying to. I have this test patch.” Jake gestured out the rolled-down window. “My dad’s sure I’m going to take down the whole operation with it.”

Ahanu hopped in the truck once again as Lila asked, “Why?”

“Disease.” 

“Oh, so if these grapes get some sort of disease—”

“Yeah, it’ll spread,” Jake acknowledged. “But putting up boxes for blue birds and owls isn’t some sixth grade art project.” Overrunning Lila’s defensive, “I didn’t think—”, Jake continued, “I’m not trying to take us back to the stone age. I’m trying to do a few key things smarter. Drip irrigation instead of sprinklers. Natural pest control. It’s about long-term viability, long-term cost savings. Plus it improves the wine quality. And there’s a market for it. And that market is growing.”

“OK.” Lila nearly put her hands up in surrender.

Opening the door, Jake left once again to head down another row.

“He has to defend himself a lot,” Ahanu remarked to Lila. “His dad’s a Spray ‘n Pump kind of dude. But there’s more of us working here in Jake’s camp than he realizes.”

A truck pulled up alongside them. The driver wore a giant Stetson cowboy hat and a weathered grimace. “That my son down there?” Big Bob asked, squinting down the row after Jake. Not waiting for an answer, he asked, “What’s he, fussing with those boxes again?”

“Hello Mr. Endicott,” Ahanu said politely. Big Bob seemed to inspire obedience even in free spirits. “We’re out here—”

“Jake!” Big Bob bellowed. “We got that lunch with Sam and Simone.” Down the row of vines, Lila thought she detected that trademark scowl across Jake’s face.

“Bluebirds.” Big Bob shook his head in disgust as Jake headed back to the truck. Tipping back his Stetson an inch, he looked right through Ahanu at Lila. “Of all the ways to waste your time.”

Maybe it was the way he expected her to join in. Or maybe it was simply an innate dislike of bullies. Whatever the origin of the impulse, Lila found herself saying, “I hear they’re a good natural pesticide, sir.”

Overhearing Lila, Jake gave her a curious smile. It vanished when his father launched in, “What’re you doing messing around here? We got to hit the road.”

Jake paused a moment, looking at the ground, hands on his hips. Seeming to collect himself, he looked up and replied a tight, “You’re right.”

“Got to grease those wheels, Jake. I know you’d rather be out here petting owls but you got to climb in here with me and go get cleaned up.”

Turning toward Lila and Ahanu , Jake offered a clipped, “Sonoma County Wine Commission.” Then he did as he was told and joined his father. 

Driving back into town with Annie later, there was undeniably much to laugh about in the morning’s events. Not the least of which was Ahanu’s parting gesture, inviting Lila to join him at a killer drum circle that night. But Lila remained quiet, looking out into the rolling hills, redwoods, then coastline and contemplating the power of parents to make their children of any age feel like they’re 10 years old and a tremendous disappointment.

CHAPTER 6: Cool For Cats

Looking up at a tap on the Employees Only side entrance of the bookstore, Lila moved to let in Zoe. It was 12:30 on a Wednesday and both Zoe and Annie had agreed to convene at Cover to Cover for lunch. Promising homemade risotto, her newest obsession, Lila had suggested that they join her while she did some sorting of old inventory in the stock room. Annie laid out three plates and three forks on a folding table. Zoe opened a container of salad for them to split.   

Tall, slender Godfrey peeked his pale face into the stockroom, then retreated at the discovery of three women.

“Artichoke risotto today, Godfrey,” Lila called after him, knowing he had most likely been checking to see what his lunch would be that day. “And I added pine nuts like you suggested.” Godfrey had now warmed up so much to Lila that he’d gotten in the habit of sharing his own recipe ideas. Creative at best, stomach-turning at worst, Godfrey’s tastes knew no boundaries. Turning to her friends, Lila explained, “He had a great idea about adding sugar snap peas to the asparagus risotto I made last week.” He’d also suggested persimmons and seaweed, but Lila planned to have difficulty finding those ingredients at the market.