Sweeter Than Wine (22 page)

Flustered, Alice's head swiveled back and forth between them. She said, "I'm
so sorry. Mr. Price is the secretary of the Association. Please let me present
Siegfried Rodernwiller. He's, er--William Roye's grandson from Alsace. And..." She
looked down at the polished hardwood floor of the corridor, blushing.

Siegfried sensed her embarrassment acutely. She was ashamed to be
associated with him!

He presented his hand to Price. "Alice is now Mrs. Rodernwiller. We were
married last month. It is a great pleasure to serve my grandfather's last and best
vintage to this association."

Price's rather limp hand found its way into Siegfried's grasp. He shook it
warmly.

"I--well, er--that is, congratulations!" Mr. Price stuttered. "My dear Mrs. Roye--
er, Rodernwiller--ah, this is amazing news!"

Siegfried winced inwardly at his pronunciation, but let the matter pass. He
tilted the hand truck. "I assume the meetings are held in the same room?" Before
receiving an answer, he started moving.

Alice and Mr. Price had to bustle to keep up.

"You said--your grandfather?" Mr. Price asked, puffing. "I never had the honor
of meeting old Mr. Roye. I'm afraid I'm rather a newcomer to Santa Rosa." He
coughed self-consciously.

"Mr. Rodernwiller trained as a vintner in Europe," Alice announced, as if it
were all the explanation needed.

They paused at a set of closed, carved double doors and Mr. Price nodded to
him. "It's a bad year to enter the winemaking business, Mr. Rodernwiller, as you've
no doubt heard. There won't be much left of our vineyards if Prohibition goes into
effect."

"There was nothing left at all for me in Alsace, Mr. Price," Siegfried said. "At
least here, I have the opportunity to make for myself a place."

"Of course." Mr. Price nodded again as he pulled open the door. "In the
meanwhile, I'm afraid we have a great deal of work to do."

In the meeting room, clumps of men stood talking amongst irregular rows of
chairs. Nothing else had changed since the last time Siegfried was here: the same
ranks of photographs and awards covered the redwood-paneled walls and the
ornate brass chandeliers sparkled.

Alice and Mr. Price began setting out the bottles in a row on the long table in
the back of the room. The white linen was almost hidden by trays of biscuits,
cheeses, and pyramids of clean glasses.

Siegfried made himself useful by stacking the empty cases, then pulled his
corkscrew from his jacket pocket and picked up the nearest bottle. Carrying it
halfway down the table to make room, he saw the square announcement card,
acknowledging in neat script who brought the wine:
Mrs. Wm. Roye,
Montclair
.

Not
Mr. & Mrs. S. Rodernwiller of Montclair.

Siegfried scowled, irate again. Had Alice imagined that she could keep their
marriage a secret?

Of course she had!

Well, he was not going to make it easy for her. She would find it extremely
difficult to get rid of him. And if she did try anything so foolish, she would soon find
herself in bigger trouble, with Montclair floundering around her ears. She needed
him!

He caught Alice's eye and jerked his chin in the direction of the tell-tale card as
he deftly twisted the cork out of the bottle he held.

She gravitated toward him, opening bottles as she moved.

"Mrs. William Roye?" he hissed.

Alice was suddenly intent on removing the cork from a bottle. "The cards were
made up weeks in advance," she protested unconvincingly. "And I had no idea
that you would--I mean we would--I mean, I forgot to ask them to change it. I'm
sorry."

She didn't sound sorry, Siegfried thought as he savagely penetrated the cork
of the next bottle with his corkscrew. She sounded vexed at having been caught
out. He composed and discarded a number of edifying remarks as he pulled and
twisted, pulled and twisted, but Alice avoided his gaze, so he remained silent,
nurturing his ill-temper as a very flimsy barrier against an emotion he did not want
to acknowledge.

A prickle of goosebumps accompanied his unwelcome realization that
somehow Alice's presence, her well-being, and her goodwill had become
necessary to him, too. That she hadn't changed the name on the cards--hurt.

While he concentrated on his work, a steady trickle of men and a few women
filled up the meeting room.

In quick glances, he recognized many of the members of the association from
his summer as Opa Roye's apprentice. Louis Kunde, owner of a vineyard north of
Agua Caliente, entered and waved a friendly greeting. Siegfried returned the
wave.

There was a surge of conversation as a short, energetic Japanese man
swaggered in, his vest-pockets bristling with Havanas, an unlit cigar clenched
between his teeth. Siegfried swallowed a smile as the legendary Kanaye
Nagasawa took his rightful place in the front row of seats. In his early years, he
had been sent by his noble father to be educated in Scotland. He had escaped a
return to his homeland by becoming a member of an eccentric religious community
based at the Fountaingrove estate on the outskirts of Santa Rosa. Now in his early
sixties, he was respected as the undisputed authority on Sonoma County wines. In
his incongruous presence, Siegfried felt less an outsider.

Even as he had this thought, Walter Bundschu, who owned the Rhine Farm
Vineyards bordering Montclair, came up to say hello. "I read in the paper that you
had returned from Europe. I didn't expect you'd grow up to be the spitting image of
your granddad," he said, vigorously shaking Siegfried's hand. "But I guess you're
used to people saying that. Welcome back! It's a rotten time to be in the business,"
he added darkly. "Those damned scoundrels in Congress--begging your pardon,
Mrs. Rodernwiller," he nodded across the table at Alice, then turned back to
Siegfried. "It'll be a crying shame if you have to rip up Mr. Roye's vines. You've got
some of the best grapes in the county."

He was interrupted by the staccato sound of the Secretary's gavel, calling the
meeting to order. Mr. Price sat at a table next to the podium, a large composition
book and pens placed before him. He banged the gavel again and the murmur of
conversation began to die down. Like Walter, men who had been gathered in
clumps near the doors found seats.

Siegfried followed Alice to the very last row. She twitched her skirt aside when
he sat down, ostensibly to make more room for him, but to Siegfried's lacerated
sensibility it felt as if she wished to avoid polluting herself with his presence.

* * *

Alice couldn't look at Siegfried. The memory of his kiss burned, a scarlet brand
of guilt and forbidden pleasure. She had let him get too far under her guard. His
anger about the announcement card shouldn't matter a bit to her, but it did. She
now felt like a heel for not including his name. His
German
name, she
reminded herself, but she wasn't convinced.

The President of the Sonoma County Grape Grower's Association, a middle-
aged man whose dark hair was liberally laced with gray, stepped up to the podium.
Mr. Victor Piezzi said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to open the meeting now. Do
we have any additions to the announcements or the agenda?"

Two or three people raised their hands.

"Please step up to Mr. Price and he'll write them down."

This took five minutes. In the meantime, Mr. Piezzi read out the minutes of the
last meeting, and the Association voted to approve them. The announcements
were mostly notices of land or equipment for sale, and Alice caught Siegfried
jotting down a note about a bottle-filler being offered. Congratulations were given
to Mr. and Mrs. Smith of Glen Ellen on the birth of a son.

Alice was just beginning to think that she might escape unscathed, when, to
her horror, Mr. Price stood up and said: "And I'd like to offer the Association's
congratulations on the marriage of the former Mrs. William Roye of Montclair, to
Mr. Siegfried Rodernwiller of Alsace, France. Some of the Association members
who've been here longer than I might remember Mr. Rodernwiller as being a
grandson of the elder William Roye."

Surprised hubbub broke out. As most of the Association members turned in
their seats, Siegfried smiled and rose to bow. Alice's face heated. They were being
stared at as if they were circus freaks on display! She studied her shoes, praying
silently that the earth would swallow her up, but Siegfried just encouraged the
crowd.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders, drew her up, and said "Thank you,"
loudly, in response to individual congratulations being shouted their way. "Thank
you. I am a very lucky man."

Alice, fuming, wished he would cease this display of empty affection. When he
didn't heed her subdued command, "Siegfried, stop this!" she stomped on his toe
with her heel.

Without ceasing to wave, he hissed from the side of his mouth: "Alice! Do you
intend to fully humiliate me today?"

His accusation pierced her. It was true. She had been unbelievably rude. She
was not acting like a lady, one who owed everyone equal courtesy. Her heart
sank. Her whole life was a pretense, and Siegfried had seen through her careful
screens of gentility and respectability to the improper, common core beneath. She
burned with shame to be discovered, to be despised by him.

She unknotted her gloved hands in her lap and raised her face to his as he
smiled and waved to the group.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She forced a smile and lightly kissed his cheek, but
the effort to appear a shy newlywed for the assembled grape-growers cost her a
great deal.

There was a wolf-whistle, and Mr. Price pounded his gavel. "No need to
embarrass the happy couple," he chided, chuckling. When the noise died down,
he said, "We'd better get on with the business part of the meeting. First item of
discussion on the agenda is the report of a Phylloxera outbreak in Mr. Rossi's
vineyard..."

As Mr. Rossi stood to make his report, Siegfried, his arm a solid warmth
against her shoulders, crushed Alice close, giving her an odd sense of comfort as
they sat down.

"I accept your apology," he said, his lips brushing her ear.

Although his warm breath sent a shiver down into the pit of her belly, his tone
was completely unloverlike. He was furious with her! She wished she could crawl
off and die somewhere, but the meeting continued, dragging through agenda items
at a snail's pace.

She struggled to pay attention to the projected grape prices for the coming
harvest. This was important. Mr. Piezzi advised that their best estimates were
between $20 and $30 per ton, if prices held steady from last year. A buzz of
discussion followed this statement. Alice felt exposed again as Siegfried raised his
hand and stood.

"Since my arrival in California I have heard a great deal of speculation about
the effects of Prohibition. Can you tell me what might be the actual
consequences?"

Mr. Piezzi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I wish we knew how to answer you.
Wartime Prohibition is slated to go into effect July 1. Representative Lea is trying
to get an amendment passed exempting wine and beer, but the vote won't be
taken until early next month."

Walter Bundschu rose to his feet. "I don't believe constitutional Prohibition will
ever pass," he declared. "Especially now that the War is over. The Prohibitionists
are a small group of fanatics and they won't succeed in imposing their narrow-
minded views on this nation!"

Alice didn't recognize the young man who objected: "But state after state has
voted in favor, and those states are closing their doors to what we produce!"

The clamor swelled as the members began to debate amongst themselves.
Alice saw the moment when Siegfried understood that the immediate future was
just as uncertain for the entire county as it was for Montclair.

Mr. Price rapped his gavel again and called for silence. The noise level
dropped by infinitesimal degrees until only a single frantically whispered debate
remained, two rows ahead of Siegfried and Alice.

Even that noise stopped when Kanaye Nagasawa stood up. "Prohibition is nae
better than confiscation of our property wi'out payment," he stated, in his startling
Scottish burr. "Wine has held a long and honorable place in the history of mankind,
and the livelihood of thousands of Americans depends on it. I canna believe that a
Constitutional Amendment will be ratified." The unlit cigar clenched between his
teeth bobbed vigorously as he spoke.

There was a smattering of applause, one or two more statements supporting
Nagasawa's opinion, and then Mr. Piezzi called a vote to close the meeting.

Alice rose quickly and hurried to the refreshment tables. The Association
members seized glasses as fast as she and Siegfried could pour.

Walter Bundschu raised his high and boomed out, "Gentlemen, I propose a
toast to the new Mr. and Mrs. Rodernwiller. Much happiness to them both!" After
he drank, he winked at her. She was simultaneously shocked by his vulgar
gesture, and warmed by his evident friendliness.

"Hear, hear," the others chorused.

Siegfried clinked his glass to hers, but she turned away from him. There were
more empty glasses and she concentrated on filling them. But she couldn't help
listening when Mr. Piezzi said, "Welcome to the Grape-Grower's Association, Mr.
Rodernwiller. I once had the honor to meet your father, years ago, when he came
to purchase rootstock from Mr. Roye."

She watched Siegfried closely while pretending not to. He froze for an instant,
then said, very rigidly, "I regret to tell you that he passed away this spring."

"I'm very sorry to hear that. Please accept my condolences. He was a fine
man."

Before Siegfried could answer, Mr. Bundschu clapped him on the shoulder. A
splash of garnet stained the tablecloth, but only Alice noticed it. "Come and meet
Mr. Schmidt. He came from Hamburg--a long time ago, of course." Mr. Bundschu
took Siegfried by the arm and towed him to the other end of the room, leaving
Alice to pour the rest of the wine by herself.