Sweeter Than Wine (46 page)

Sonoma, Friday, October 10

Quivering with the aftereffects of her confrontation with Tati, Alice ran blindly
out of the house, through the neighborhood.
Could she really take my
baby?
Her face burned in the cool, humid air. She considered Tati's feud with
Hugh, and the ruthless way the old lady had blackmailed Alice into marrying
Siegfried.
Oh yes. She's capable of anything.

Alice kicked aside piles of wet leaves with her borrowed shoes, kindling her
anger to the same strength-giving rage that had sustained her through her
confrontation with Siegfried last night. She placed a protective hand over her belly.
No. I won't let her
.

But who would help her now? Siegfried might, if he woke up.
When
he
woke, she amended.

The sky began to lighten and blue sky appeared through thinning clouds as
she strode along, propelled by her turmoil. The sparkle of a stray sunbeam on a
water-beaded spider web caught her eye, reminding her of the dragonfly
brooch.

Alice had tried so hard to remake herself, to become someone Tati would
approve of. And what good had it done her? She laughed, giddy with anger and
defiance. Well, she wasn't going to knuckle under this time. Betrayal, arson,
murder: she had survived them all. She was strong. Strong enough to send
Siegfried packing when her heart was in shreds.

Strong enough to say no to Tati and her blackmail this time.

A sign on a plain frame building caught her eye:
Meals with Wine, 25
cents
. The 'with Wine' had been crossed out. She realized she had walked
blindly through town as far as the Toscano Hotel on East Spain Street.

Alice pushed open the door and went inside. She smiled at the clerk behind
the lobby desk. He was painfully young and neat with wire-rimmed spectacles and
his pomaded hair in a ruler-straight part. He smiled back brilliantly.

She would show them all. No more hiding. No more lies.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am," the clerk said in Italian-accented English. "How may
I assist you?"

Alice heard herself make some polite noises. Her blood was singing with
excitement and fear, warming her gloveless fingers. It was such a small town: the
news would spread fast. "I'd like to rent a room, please," she said. "And I need to
make a 'phone call to San Francisco."

* * *

Of course, Gertie Breitenbach was the telephone operator on duty.

Gertie greeted her, then said, "I was so sorry to hear about your fire, Mrs.
Rodernwiller. Poor Mrs. Verdacchia! I hope your husband recovers from his
injuries soon. Where are you staying? With Dorothy married now, we have a spare
bedroom..."

"That's very kind of you." Alice wondered if Gertie would regret her offer once
she learned whom Alice was 'phoning. "But I've got a room at the Toscano Hotel
for now."

"If you change your mind, you know you're welcome to stay with us for as long
as you like. Now, how may I help you?"

Alice took a deep breath. "I'm trying to 'phone my mother. I have her address--
it's a business." She gave Gertie her mother's full name and Commercial Street
address.

"It'll be just a minute while I flip through the San Francisco directory," Gertie
said, then said conversationally, "We've never met your mother, dear. What sort of
business does she own?"

"She owns a parlor house," Alice said, defiantly.
No more lies
. "We
haven't seen each other in years, but the wedding present she sent me had the
same address."

Dead silence on the line.

Alice's anger cooled instantly to a cold lump. She closed her eyes.
What
was I thinking?
While it lasted, it had been so nice to belong here, among
respectable people.

"Oh, my." Gertie finally said. "Is this it? The directory lists a Mrs. Campbell and
Restaurant Florence at that location. Shall I connect you?"

Alice was beyond mortified by now.
Was
it the right place? "Yes,
please," she replied, finding herself a little short of breath at the prospect that it
was. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Breitenbach."

"You're welcome."

There was a click, a conversation between Gertie and the San Francisco
operator, another long pause, then a woman's French-accented voice. "Restaurant
Florence. We are not open until six o'clock."

"I'd like to speak to Mrs. Campbell, please."

"Who, may I ask, is calling?" the woman asked, haughtily enough to make
Alice smile.

"Her daughter."

"Oh," The haughtiness disappeared along with the spurious accent. Her voice
became soft, hesitant, and entirely American. "Alice, honey, is that you?"

"Mama." Alice's voice emerged as a croak. She cleared her throat and started
again. "Mama?"

"Oh, baby girl, I'm so happy to hear from you! Are you all right? When I read
about the fire at your grape farm in the
Chronicle
this morning I almost
broke my promise not to ever see you again. I was so worried about you!"

"You promised
what
? Da never said anything about that!"

"Oh, well. Your Da and me decided it was best--But what do you need?" she
asked shrewdly.

"Mama, I need your help. You know the house burned down. Before the fire, I
told Siegfried to leave. Then he--the doctor says he should be okay but he won't
wake up. I'm going to have a baby--" Alice couldn't continue.
And Siegfried's
grandmother wants to steal it.

"Imagine! Me a grandma!" Her mother gave a delighted laugh. "I'll be there on
the next ferry, baby girl, and I'll bring my car with me. I can run whatever errands
you need: call your insurance man, whatever. You just tell me what you want
done."

"Mama, this is terrible of me, but I need clothes--I have nothing but what the
doctor's wife gave me to wear--and money for my lawyer. Tatiana Roye wants to
take the property back--and she's threatened--" Alice swallowed. She would
not
cry. "She's threatened to take my baby because I'm your daughter. And
I'm not going to let her do it!"

"That's my girl," Florence said, a proud smile audible in her voice. "I'm coming
right away. Now here's what you do first. You go to your bank and get them to give
you some checks. You go next to your lawyer there in town, and you make sure
your name is on the title to the property, and you see if that lawyer's good and
sharp enough for you. And if he's not, don't worry. I know plenty of lawyers, and
judges, and nobody's going to take nothing from you. I'll be there this
afternoon."

"Thank you, Mama. Good-bye, Mama." Alice heard the connection end. She
tried several times to hang the ear horn on its hook, but she couldn't quite see it,
and her hand trembled too much. Eventually she made it. She rubbed her hands
across her eyes and straightened.

First--the bank.

* * *

She arrived at Lee Crabbe's law office on West Napa Street, new checks in
her pocket. Alice forced herself to unknot her hands and enter.

Lee, a tall, lean man with curly light-brown hair and a friendly smile, had been
one of Hugh's friends. He always looked as though he would be more at home in a
workingman's jeans than his dark professional suits.

"Mrs. Roye--er, Rodernwiller," he greeted her, in his soft-spoken way. "I was
so sorry to hear about the fire, and about Mr. Verdacchia. I want to let you know
that I'm ready to do everything I can to help you." He directed her to sit down in a
comfortable leather armchair.

Alice plucked self-consciously at her ragged hair. "Mr. Crabbe, it's possible
that I will have to sell Montclair, and my husband's family doesn't want me to. I
need to know if they can stop me. Plus, I have a question about the
insurance."

"I see. Well, I hope I can clarify some of the issues for you. Let's first discuss
the property ownership, then I'll go over your insurance policy with you. I have a
copy in my files. May I get you a cup of coffee before we begin?" When Alice
shook her head, he seated himself behind his large oak desk, and uncapped his
fountain pen. "Now then, where shall I direct your correspondence?"

"I don't know where I'm going to be, but Maria will be living in the foreman's
cottage at Montclair. She can forward any mail."

"Well, we know you've owned the property since Bill died," Mr. Crabbe
continued, calculating the elapsed time. "About a year and a half? And it was a
probated inheritance. I remember the settlement of his estate quite well."

Alice nodded.

"So that means it's a separate property."

"Does that mean what I think it means?" Alice asked, leaning forward in her
chair.

"Since you are the sole inheritor, Montclair is your separate property even
though you have remarried," Mr. Crabbe clarified. "Unless--did you put your new
husband on the deed?"

She shook her head. "I haven't changed anything."

"All right. Did you use any of your husband's money to pay the mortgage or
make substantial improvements on the land?"

"No mortgage, thank God," Alice said. "Siegfried did buy a bottling system,
though. Does that count as an improvement?"

"Only to your business. He can claim a small share of your profits, if any, after
harvest, but he doesn't have an interest in the property itself." Mr. Crabbe put
down the pen and steepled his fingers under his chin. "Based on what you've told
me, Mrs. Rodernwiller, the property is yours alone. Neither your husband nor his
family can stop you from disposing of Montclair as you wish."

Alice let out a sigh of relief. "That's good. Now about the insurance...Will there
be a problem?"

"Possibly, because it was arson." Mr. Crabbe got up, and rifled through the
drawer in a tall wooden filing cabinet, muttering, "Roberts...Rogers...Roye--ah,
here it is!" He pulled a folder from the drawer and spread it open on his desk. He
picked up his pen again as a reading aid down the closely-packed lines. "Yes," Mr.
Crabbe said at last, "you are the primary beneficiary on this policy."

"I remember we put Peter Verdacchia on the policy, too. Will Peter's widow get
his portion? If we get anything, that is?"

"Well, I'm afraid this policy has a restriction in it that you can't will away your
interest, or even a portion of it. Since your foreman was listed as contingent
beneficiary, you'll receive the total, if there is a payout. The money would only
have been paid out to him if you were dead."

Alice looked squarely at the lawyer. "Hugh Roye was arrested for Peter's
murder, but I can't believe he did it. If he goes to trial, can you defend him?"

Mr. Crabbe tried unsuccessfully to keep his face expressionless. "I've known
Hugh Roye a long time. I remember how disappointed he was when his
Grandfather's will passed over him, but I never considered him capable of arson--
or murder." Crabbe put down his pen and started wiping ink splatters off his fingers
with his handkerchief. Visibly composing himself, he looked up at Alice and said,
"It may be a considerable expense, and the insurance money may not be
forthcoming."

"Then it's a good thing that Montclair is mine," Alice said. "I wouldn't sell it
to
Hugh, but if I have to, I'll sell Montclair
for
him."

"He should be very grateful you're on his side."

"He doesn't know it yet. But he will."

She shook hands again, and was already in the office doorway when she
remembered to ask, "And what do I owe you, Mr. Crabbe? You've been so
helpful."

He smiled, and Alice was reminded that, however friendly, he was still a
lawyer. "There's no charge for a
first
consultation, Mrs. Rodernwiller."

* * *

Back around the Plaza, the borrowed shoes a bit loose and chafing, Alice
returned to the doctor's house to inform them that she would be staying at the
Toscano Hotel and to see how Siegfried was doing.

Mrs. Stillman had laundered Alice's nightgown and provided another change of
clothes, a carpet bag, and a toothbrush for Alice to take with her. Alice, touched,
thanked her profusely, thinking,
Your attitude will change when you find out
about me
. She tried to regret that soon her years as a respectable woman in
Sonoma would be just a wonderful memory, but the thought,
No more lies
,
was wonderfully emancipating.

Carpetbag in hand, she peeked into Siegfried's room and saw Tati sitting at his
bedside.

Alice took a deep breath, and entered the room, seating herself down on the
other chair, keeping Siegfried's bed between them like a barrier. Alice kept her
head bowed as she settled herself, but watched Tati from beneath her lashes.

Without acknowledging Alice's presence, Tati tenderly touched Siegfried's
scorched face. Two streams of tears dripped down her cheeks, but she was
dignified, even in her grief. She did not sob, or even dab futilely at her eyes with a
handkerchief. She simply sat there, ramrod straight, her rosary beads knotted
around her hands, weeping for her losses.

Despite herself, Alice's heart began to soften towards the old woman. This was
such a difficult time for all of them. Surely Tati had meant no harm to Alice.

When Dr. Stillman came in some time later, Tati had dried her tears, and was
whispering her Rosary. She lifted her head, and fixed her gaze upon the doctor.
"Can you tell me anything yet about my grandson's condition?" she asked stiffly,
not acknowledging Alice's presence.

Dr. Stillman's eyes went to Alice. "I'm afraid not," he began uncertainly.

"Then I must insist that he be removed to a hospital where he can receive
proper care!"

Alice lifted her chin, and took Siegfried's hand in hers. "Dr. Stillman, I'm quite
happy with your care of my husband. I have no intention of making any
changes."

Tati glowered coldly at Alice. "How dare you!"

"I am his wife, Mrs. Roye. You may stay with him if you like, but he won't be
moving."