It's
been a little while since I've visited wine country. It was time to
catch up with some of the people I've met there. While it's usually
a little more relaxed than the social scenes in the major cities,
it's not without tales with more juice than the grapes in Napa
Valley. Here is a section from my forthcoming book, More Grapes
of Wrath.
–
D.D.
It
was 1 AM and David Robles could not sleep. Most would think that
normal for a bridegroom, even one who had previous experience of this
event. The truth was he had looked for any excuse to not marry Graciela.
He
did not love Graciela; he had known that all along. Men who had only
observed them in public would have envied him marrying Graciela of
the platinum hair and hourglass figure who seemingly could not keep
her hands off him. Those who knew her just well enough had tried to
dissuade him but had failed. He had been convinced that he was doing
this for the good of his children. Graciela was, after all, their
mother's sister. She had tended to them during much of the past year
when he was recovering from the depression that began with their
mother's death. She had helped him find a psychiatrist to help his
daughter after what had appeared to be a suicide attempt. She had
sacrificed her art career to do all this. She had been an
interesting sexual partner. Did he not owe her this?
The
telephone rang, sparing him having to think of an answer. He checked
his phone and saw that it was Officer Rodriguez of the Sonoma County
Sheriff's Office.
“Hello?”
“Mr
Robles, this is Officer Rodriguez. Sorry to wake you up.”
“That's
alright. Do you have news for me?”
“Yes.
The San Francisco Police Department arrested Juan Téllez half an
hour ago as he was trying to leave town. After the paperwork is done
we'll take custody of him. That should take only a day or two.”
“Thank
you. That is a tremendous relief to my family.”
“I
can imagine. However, just in case he has accomplices I wouldn't
cancel the security measures you planned for your wedding,.”
“You're
right; I won't.”
“Will
you be leaving for a honeymoon?”
“Yes.
We'll be in Europe for three weeks. Do you need the itinerary?”
“That
won't be necessary, Mr Robles, as long as you have your cell phone
with you.”
“I
will; I need to be available to my employees and my customers. You
have the number.”
“Thanks.
Congratulations in advance and we'll see you when you get back.”
David
ended the call. He was tempted to call back but it was too late to
cancel the wedding.
Eight
hours later he was putting on his tuxedo with a little help from his
best friend and best man, César, who had long observed that David
was less than ecstatic in his relationship with Graciela.
“It
isn't too late, David,” he said. “You can still back out of
this.”
“I
can't , César. I can't disappoint my children.”
“David,
the children will be fine. Are you sure you aren't disappointing
yourself?”
“That
doesn't matter. The children need a stable family.”
“A
stable family starts with a strong marriage.” There was a long
pause. “Look, I know I'm no authority on marriage but I've seen
enough to know that if the parents aren't suitable for each other the
children suffer.”
“I
know, César.” He looked at his watch. “Let's go.”
They
went down to the garden where the judge waited in his robe among the
guests. Adolfo was there as Lillian's date, talking to other
vintners. David's children, dressed in their best, were with Sonia
and Susan. León was a little down in the mouth that it was not his
adored sister who was marrying his boss, but kept telling himself she
would get over it. Luciana was a strong woman who had managed to
endure deportation and separation from him and their mother and she
was smart enough to endure anything.
César
and David stood before the judge, who then checked his watch. A few
moments later Lillian arrived, tastefully dressed in the classic
sleeveless black dress with modest jewelry. She smiled at David and
nodded to the string quartet hired for the occasion. They began
playing Pachelbel's Canon in D as Graciela walked from the door
toward her groom.
She
wore a beautiful white dress which at first glance looked strapless
but actually had pale flesh-toned netting that allowed it to look
bare in certain areas. There were white sequined climbing flowers
leading to her left shoulder in front and her right shoulder in back.
It had a slight mermaid hem and a train. Her hair was loosely
braided in a fishtail style in back and pinned up to avoid tangling
in the fabric and beads of the dress. Her pale hair and paler
complexion contrasted sharply with the carefully applied bold red
lipstick. People turned and looked as she slowly walked in time to
the music, the better to be stared at.
She
smiled as though she were sashaying down the red carpet at the
Academy Awards, as this was the performance she had been preparing
for ever since she had murdered her sister three years previously.
In her mind she must have thought she looked like Marilyn Monroe.
Some of the men stared at her as though she were. The women admired
her dress. She gloried in this to the degree that she never noticed
that David was not smiling in the enraptured manner of a bridegroom.
The only people to notice this were César, Susan, and Sonia. And my
colleagues and I, who took numerous photos.
The
ceremony took merely a few minutes, but to David it seemed endless.
He steeled himself to think of Luciana and to imagine her in
Graciela's place. It was too late to do anything else but to say “I
do” at the appropriate moment. A female member of the catering
staff later described him as looking like a Ken doll from the 70s.
She asked rhetorically what could have caused him to not feel what he
needed to to marry this woman. I was responsible enough to not
comment.
Later
the champagne flowed freely and Lillian availed herself of more than
most. She managed not to appear intoxicated, knowing that I was
there along with my colleagues from other publications. Most
wondered what provoked her overindulgence, as she had heretofore
never been seen in public doing so, but could come to no agreement.
I was inclined to think that thoughts of her other daughter had come
to her and that she had mixed emotions on the occasion. The judge
remained for a half hour then departed for another wedding. The
remaining guests enjoyed champagne and a buffet of cold seafood,
gourmet cheeses, fruit, and an assortment of wines provided by the
groom's and the vintner guests' wineries, all consumed from the
loveliest crystal and porcelain.
Graciela
noticed her mother's unusually quiet demeanor and was pleased that
she was doing nothing that would embarrass her. She played her role
almost too perfectly, greeting each guest, paying false return
compliments to the women who commented on her dress, and sincere
thanks to each person for attending. She made a show of embracing
Fernanda and Bobby for the photographers, which distracted them from
noticing that David looked at his watch every few minutes or so.
Finally, César looked at his and whispered something to Lillian, who
then summoned Graciela to go inside and change.
The
press remained long enough to take the departure photos of the bride
and groom as they left the mansion in the limousine. The bride had
changed into a slightly fitted traveling knit pink dress and the
groom into khaki trousers and a navy jacket. I sent my account of
the wedding from my tablet as my photographer send the photos from
his Galaxy smartphone, thus enabling ourselves to have another glass
of champagne and one more lobster tail before returning to the
office. En route, Dashiell called me from the police station.
“They
have Juan Téllez and he's ranting about a cell phone.”
“Whose
cell phone?” I asked. “Why is that so important?”
“He
says it has footage of a murder. He claims it can clear him.”
“Interesting.
Are there other charges pending?”
“Yes;
still waiting for the details.”
“Let
me know when you find out. There is more to this, I can sense it.”
We
went back to the office and the early edition of the story was
already uploaded to the magazine's website. We had beaten the
competition by about five minutes. Not as colorful as the halcyon
days of The Front Page, but satisfying.
A
few days later the European press issued honeymoon photos of the
couple showing them at the French Riviera with Graciela's complexion
still resembling a porcelain doll's; Lancôme must have come out with
a #5000 sunblock. The accompanying story mentioned that they would
be visiting vintners in Burgundy on the way to Paris before leaving
for Spain, where they would be doing much of the same. I filed this
all away for future reference just as Dashiell called me with an
update. It seemed that the missing cell phone Juan Téllez went on
about had belonged to his murdered girlfriend and it showed that he
had not been her murderer. He was accusing Graciela Palacios, now
Robles.
“The
police won't release any of this information to the press until the
cell phone is found. He didn't have it when he was arrested.”
“You'd
think he would have been intelligent enough to have it in his back
pocket. Didn't they search his motel room?” I asked.
“They
got him at the railway station two hours after he checked out. The
room had already been cleaned by the time they sent a squad car.
That means the phone is already on its way to a landfill or
something. He had the murder weapon on him, though, so he can't get
out of this.”
“Thanks,
Dash. I owe you a steak dinner.”
“Looking
forward to it. I have the dirt on the embezzlement as well.”
“See
you later.”
There
never was an update on the cell phone.
Before
the first wedding anniversary the legal process had taken care of the
paper trail of the money Juan Téllez had embezzled from David
Robles, which had to be settled by handing the seized olive grove to
him. David was satisfied at this conclusion, as it gave him another
outlet for his new frustrations. One of these was that Téllez'
accomplice in the embezzlement was Lillian, David's double
mother-in-law. She was arrested at the mansion early one evening
before enough sunlight disappeared to interfere with photos taken by
every crime reporter in Sonoma. Graciela made an appearance in her
paint-stained white smock, screeching like a peacock whose feathers
had been trampled upon.
David
remained stoic as ever, restraining her at police request as Lillian
was taken in handcuffs and driven away. He had no comment for the
press. Privately he thanked God that he had recently received
contracts for his Gran Reserva wine from the best restaurants in San
Francisco, Chicago, and New York and the money was flowing into the
bank. He was looking forward to opening a little bistro in San
Francisco where his wines, olives, and extra virgin olive oil would
be served along with gourmet bread and tapas. He went into his study
and an e-mail arrived with good news about the flamenco dancers he
wanted to hire for the opening week celebration.
He
missed his children. Fernanda was at university, studying business
administration. She sent him weekly e-mails telling him about her
classes, her professors, and her projects. She occasionally called
to ask for advice about the latter. He lived for those calls. Two
months after the honeymoon Bobby was sent to boarding school in
Spain. He had won a soccer scholarship but took some time to decide
whether he wanted to go. He did not explain his reasons to his
father, but David knew what they were. It was that Graciela – who
had fawned over Bobby at the wedding and for months prior – now
ignored him and considered him a nuisance.
In
his many solitary hours David thought of Luciana. The latest news he
had of her was that she had taken an important job in Mendoza, 600
miles southwest of Buenos Aires. He had seen this in the trade
press, along with some photos. The owner of the vineyard, Sebastían
Iglesias, was one of the four most important men in Argentina's wine
country and he waxed eloquently about Luciana's expertise. Luciana
looked happy in the photo published of her, a photo that also
included Alejandro, the heir to the vineyard. He was a tall, fit,
and handsome thirty-year-old with thick dark hair and green eyes. He
was also single.
León
Muñoz opened his restaurant in Sonoma. It was called Tacos, Vino, y
Amor. Marta had resigned her position as nanny when Bobby left for
boarding school and gone to help her own son, cooking delicious
Mexican appetizers and comfort foods for happy customers who brought
more customers. To spare his family's feelings, León gave his first
wine contract to Miguel at Viñedo Santa Barbara for the young wine
Fronteras, in memory of having walked over the border with his
parents as a small child. During the grand opening week the
restaurant critic from The Sonoma Sun interviewed León, who
spoke lovingly about discovering true Mexican cuisine in Mexico with
his adored older sister and wanting to bring it to the people of his
adopted town. He had grown up in a vineyard with a loving mother who
was a great cook and it was in the same vineyard that he met his best
friend, Miguel, and his beloved and charming wife, Sonia Ortiz, whose
first novel had recently been published. Her readers began flocking
to Tacos, Vino, y Amor as soon as the article was published. She had
gotten over her shyness and began appearing there regularly.
Miguel
took over most of the operations of Viñedo Santa Barbara, leaving
Adolfo time to himself. Adolfo began traveling through various wine
countries of the world, finally deciding to spend a year in Italy.
There he attended the opera and met a charming and attractive widow
with her own inheritance and a villa in Portofino. He spoke
regularly to Miguel who was happy for him, telling him that he would
visit when he attended the next vintners' festival in a few months.
Graciela
did not visit Lillian in prison. She had been sentenced to three
years (the current maximum) due to the long-term nature of the crime.
Graciela did not care. She was more concerned with how to manage
David, which she had lost her ability to do since the children were
no longer there for her to manipulate. Since the marriage had been a
hollow victory she went back to her easel and paints and began all
over again with her art. Her work took on a darker tone, with vastly
different color schemes from those in her previous work. Joselo saw
three examples of it in a small gallery in Sonoma and called on her.
She was becoming more prolific than before, which pleased him. She
never told him why this was and he decided it was better not to
question his good fortune. He proposed a new arrangement and she
agreed. Her work began becoming popular with the goth community and
while each piece did not fetch the amounts she had received before,
at least the income was steady.
Luciana
was in Argentina for a year before Alejandro Iglesias proposed to
her. She had come to love his courtly manner and his Argentinian
accent as well as his intelligence and passion for his work and his
lands. He was a true kindred spirit. She accepted his proposal with
no hesitation. His parents were pleased that he had found a woman
who not only was intelligent and beautiful but who would be a true
partner in his work. She skyped the good news to Marta, Ramón,
Sonia, and León, all of whom promised to put the wedding date on the
calendar and make their flight reservations.
“Should
we tell David?” Ramón asked when they ended the call.
“I
don't know,” said Marta. “I haven't spoken with him in all the
time Bobby has been gone. I've called and left messages a few times
but he never called back.”
“Maybe
Graciela made sure he didn't get the messages,” Sonia suggested.
“You know how she is.”
“You
could be right,” Marta said. “But he should find out about this
from one of us.”
“I'll
do it,” Ramón said. “It would be better than him finding this
out any other way I can think of.”
He
told David the next day in his study before heading into the
vineyard. David looked up in stunned silence mixed with disbelief.
“You
needed to be prepared in case you heard this from anyone else,”
Ramón told him. “I know how much you still love Luciana.”
“Yes,”
David said, biting his inner lip to avoid tears. “I was a fool to
let go of her so I suppose I deserved to lose her. I thought I was
doing the best for my children.”
“Sometimes
we don't always know what's best.”
“That
is true. Thanks, Ramón. I'll see you in the vineyard in an hour.”
As
soon as Ramón left and closed the door David went online and saw the
engagement announcement in the society pages of the Buenos Aires
Herald. The photo showed Luciana and Alejandro in formal dress
at a function that had taken place a few days before. David looked
at the photo for a few minutes, taking in Luciana's smile and the
hard reality that he had lost her forever. He cried for a good
thirty minutes, then drank some ice water to try to help stop it. He
then closed the browser, shut off his computer, and went out to the
vineyard to begin the day's work.
Luciana
and Alejandro's wedding was to take place three months later. David
had received an invitation, sent by the groom's parents. He had sent
a Regrets reply, then torn the invitation in half and dropped it into
the wastepaper basket in his study. He knew that the groom's parents
must have invited leading colleagues from wineries all over the
world, but could not bring himself to go. He later scolded himself
for not having burned it because Graciela had found it a few hours
later and reproached him for not having told her about it.
“All
the important wineries will be represented there,” she told him.
“Surely our absence will be noticed.”
“Graciela,
I won't give you any opportunity to cause Luciana any more pain or
embarrassment. I married you and you should be grateful for that
much.”
“But
I hardly see you! You're always in here with the door locked or in
the vineyard with the workers or visiting clients. You never make
time for me!”
“Graciela,
if you had wanted someone who would make time for you you should have
married a man with a nine to five job, not the one who pays him.”
He had wanted to say more but knew it would have been of no use.
“Now, excuse me because there is an urgent situation I need to deal
with.” He went to his study and locked the door. Graciela went
back upstairs to her old room, which had been converted into her
studio. She began trashing everything in the room, not caring that
the new housekeeper would need all day to clean up the mess.
A
few days later after David had moved a few things around in Lisa's
old room, a new bedroom set was delivered and placed there. David
moved his clothes from what had been the marital bedroom into the
closet and dresser. He was tired of closing his eyes and pretending
Graciela was Luciana and had been so for a long time.
Fernanda
graduated from college summa cum laude and was valedictorian
of her class. David was the proudest father in the audience as she
gave her speech. She did not disclose her future plans, but talked
about making a difference in people's lives. She had come a long way
from the troubled girl she had been on the eve of her senior year of
high school. Being away from home had forced her to mature and take
responsibility. She had become so much like her mother that David
had to use all his willpower not to cry. When she met him after the
ceremony in her cap and gown he embraced her as though he had not
seen her for years.
“I
am so proud of you,” he said.
“I'm
glad, Papa. Where is Aunt Grace?” she asked.
“She
needed to be at her gallery opening,” David told her. “She will
be home at the end of the week.”
Fernanda
looked slightly disappointed, but then released her father to hug her
brother.
“Bobby,
you're almost as tall as our dad!” she said.
“Everybody
says that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Can you call me 'Rob'
from now on?”
She
looked at him and realized that while he was technically her “little
brother” he was far from little. She noticed that he had a shaving
nick on his left cheek.
“Oh,
wow. Sure, if that's what you want, Rob.”
Tano
was waiting behind David, holding a bouquet of spring flowers. He
embraced her, kissed her discreetly, and handed the flowers to her.
“Congratulations,
Fer,” he said. “I knew you could be top of your class.”
“That's
why I was. It was because you had such confidence in me. I can't
wait for your graduation!”
“It's
tomorrow and you better be there!”
They
went back to Bodega de Los Angeles in David's car. In front of the
garage was a brand-new silver Lexus with a large blue bow on its
hood.
“Is
that mine?” Fernanda asked.
“Way
cool!” said Rob.
“Yes,
daughter. And Tano helped me pick it out.”
She
hugged both of them and ran out of the car to look at her graduation
gift. David tried not to think of the passage of time. He sighed
with relief that neither of his children had asked about Lillian, who
had just been released from the state prison the week before. When
he had learned about the arrangement between her, Grace, and Dr
Anderson he paid Lillian one final visit during which he told her
that she was never to contact him or his children again. He had even
applied for a restraining order.
Dr
Anderson was last seen in Mexico, far away from Sonoma. The Mexican
police were aware of his previous activities and were watching him.
Tano's
graduation ceremony was the next day and David took photos of the two
graduates together in their caps and gowns. Tano had taken his degree
in agronomy with a specialty in oenology, exactly as Luciana had done
seven years before in Mexico. He could not believe it had really
been that long. Ramón was as proud as David, hoping that his son
would use his knowledge at David's vineyard. They went to León's
restaurant to celebrate after the ceremony, where the proud fathers
bought a round of drinks for the entire room and Marta presented a
multi-tiered cake decorated with grape motifs and a topper of the two
graduates in their caps and gowns, holding up their diplomas in a
cross, as though they were swords in salute.
That
evening Fernanda decided that her master's degree could wait. She
told her father that she wanted to join him in running the family
businesses. Rob told them he missed them so much that he wanted to
come home and transfer to a local high school.
“Dad,
I've decided I want to go into medicine.”
“That's
excellent, Rob. Would you like to go to the same schools that César
went to?”
“I've
wondered about that. I want to talk to him about it.”
“I
think that can be arranged pretty easily.”
Graciela
returned the next day, full of her success at her gallery opening in
San Francisco. It was a much more interesting city than Sonoma, with
more to do and more sophisticated attitudes. She had entertained
herself with cocktail parties, one of which was in her honor.
Arriving at one in the afternoon, she left her suitcase at the foot
of the stairs, called for Maria, the housekeeper, to fetch it, and
sashayed into the dining room calling “David, mi amor” but lost
the last syllable when she saw Fernanda and Rob at the table. She
stopped dead in the doorway.
“Fer,
I didn't know you would be home,” she said.
“Aunt
Grace, I graduated two days ago, or did you forget?”
“Oh,
of course not. I just couldn't get away from the gallery. So many
important people.”
“Graciela,
I thought my children were important to you,” David said. “I
reminded you about this two weeks ago.”
“Oh,
I'm sorry, mi amor,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. He did
not look at her. She sat down at her usual place, which had not been
set for lunch. Maria entered with a large steaming platter.
“Maria,
why is my place not set?” Graciela asked in a tone that demanded an
apology.
“Excuse
me, Señora, but I was not told you would be returning today.” She
put down the platter and left the dining room.
“Nobody
is indispensable here!” Graciela said. “David, we need to
replace her.”
“Maria
does her work well, Graciela. It was you who did not bother to
inform us that you would be back a day early.”
Rob
and Fernanda looked at each other with like expressions.
“This
is my house and I can do as I please.”
“Wrong,
Graciela. This is my house and everyone who lives here owes courtesy
to the others. You have not even greeted Rob.”
“You
mean Bobby?” She looked at the tall young man. “I almost didn't
recognize you.”
“I
know, Tia,” he said.
There
was an awkward silence as Maria returned with Graciela's place
setting and the salad bowl. She served Fernanda first.
“We
are so happy you have come home to stay, Señorita Fernanda,” she
said.
Graciela
looked up.
“Gracias,
Maria,” Fernanda said. “I've thought about your arroz con pollo
for days.”
“I'll
be sure to make it at least once a week,” Maria said.
“Excuse
me, but I have a headache,” Graciela said. She rose and left the
room. The others heard her going up the stairs. David picked up his
fork and they began eating.
Later
as Fernanda took a half hour to call her old high school friends
David knocked on Graciela's bedroom door. There was no answer. He
heard movement and was too impatient to wait, so he walked in. She
was half-dressed in her silk robe, left open deliberately as she had
done many times in the past before they were married.
“I
was wondering how long it would take for you to finally come in
here,” she said.
“This
will not work, Graciela. Not this time. Not ever again. But there
is something we have to talk about.”
“Oh?
I can't imagine.”
“Graciela,
your mother was released from prison last week.”
“Oh,
really? Why didn't you tell me?”
“I
didn't think I had to, but now I see otherwise. Anyway, if you wish
to see her you will have to see her away from this house, and this
town. I don't want her near my children.”
“Whyever
not, David?”
“Graciela,
don't play dumb with me. You know perfectly well that she never paid
much attention to them and that I can't trust her. Neither should
they. I have a restraining order against her.”
“Very
well, if that's what you want.”
“Good.
At least you understand. Excuse me.”
He
left her room. As soon as he closed the door Graciela pulled out her
cell phone to return Lillian's latest call. When she got her
voicemail Graciela immediately called Alberto, the handsome Cuban
artist she had stayed with in San Francisco.
David
met César for drinks the following afternoon. César knew
immediately that there was trouble.
“César,
you were right four years ago. I should never have married
Graciela.”
“What
do you intend to do?”
“I
met with a divorce attorney this morning. He told me that divorce
could be very expensive.”
“The community property thing?” César asked. “No wonder marriage
is going out of style. But she can't take your vineyards. Those
were yours alone from the day you inherited them. And you paid back
the loan she made you. You did pay that back before the wedding?”
“Yes,
but she could try to make a claim to at least half of the olive
grove. That case wasn't settled until after the wedding.”
“The
waters are a little muddy on that one. What will you do next?”
“I
don't know yet. I have another appointment with my attorney next
week. It's been too long for an annulment but the marriage has
mostly been a sham. She reneged on every promise and I can tell that
she doesn't like that Fernanda and Rob are home to stay.”
“She
never intended for them to.”
“I
knew that as soon as Rob left for boarding school. And now Luciana
is married to someone else.”
César
spared David's feelings by not commenting on that.
A
week later David got the news that divorce would be more expensive
than he thought. While he had only been married to Graciela for four
years and she had her own income his was greater and there was a
chance that the olive grove could be at risk along with the bistro.
There was also the matter of Lillian's embezzlement, which had been
kept quiet for the children's sake. David knew he needed to talk to
them about that. He was relieved when neither indicated any desire
to see Lillian again.
Graciela saw Lillian occasionally, but not necessarily because she wanted to. Lillian turned up at the next three gallery show openings and drank more wine than she could handle. They finally had an argument about this which ended with an agreement that she would stay away in exchange for a generous monthly stipend so she would not have to work. Graciela had her banker make the arrangements. The payments stopped when Lillian eventually died of cirrhosis of the liver.
Eight
years later David had just had the same conversation with César when
he remembered he had a meeting with Susan, Fernanda, Tano, and Sonia
about the latest wine he had been working on. They went down into
the cava for the meeting. Sonia had been of tremendous value over
the previous eight years with her ad copy and promotional ideas. She
had just published her fourth novel and was working on her fifth.
She hadn't told anyone any details about it, even her agent. Tano
poured their glasses and all swirled the red liquid, looked at it
against the light, and inhaled the bouquet before tasting it.
“Hmm.
Rich, full-bodied, with the flavors of dark fruits.”
“Smooth,
but with a strong finish, almost like a brandy.”
“Definitely
should accompany a good steak.”
“I
think we have a winner,” David said. “It would be a crime not to
enter this one. What should we call it?”
Sonia
looked at all the others. Their expressions were alternating between
pensive and confused. She took another sip.
“Friends,
this might sound crazy, but how about Crime of Passion?”
Everyone
looked at her for an explanation.
“Well,
if Christian Dior can make a fortune on a perfume called Poison...”
“I
think you're right, Sonia,” Fernanda said. “Unusual names work
when they're unexpected.”
“We
should give this a mysterious image, don't you think?”
“I'll
agree with that,” said Susan. “Making wine isn't mysterious to
us but lots of people must think it's some kind of magic.”
“Maybe
we should save 'Black Magic' for a future one,” said Fernanda.
“I
like it,” said Tano. “I think young wine drinkers will like it,
too.”
“Then
we're all agreed,” said David. Let's meet on Thursday with ideas
about labels and promotional material.”
Everyone
went back to work. César's cell phone rang.
“It's
the hospital. I have to go.”
Less
than an hour later David arrived at the hospital where César was
waiting for him in the reception area.
“What
happened?” David asked.
“They're
not quite sure of the sequence of events, but Graciela was in the
passenger seat. The driver was an artist whose work is in the same
gallery in San Francisco. They were driving down and he seems to
have been....distracted by something. They collided with an
18-wheeler.”
“Oh,
my God.”
“The
driver is in a coma. In addition to that, he has a few injuries that
defy easy explanation.”
“What
about Graciela?”
“She's
awake, but she has massive internal injuries. I think you need to be
prepared for the worst. She wants to see you.”
“Does
she know?”
“I
didn't tell her. I'm not sure whether we should.”
“Alright.”
He
followed César to Graciela's room. Her pale hair was matted with
blood and there was a bandage around her head. Her arm was in a
sling. She was surrounded by machines and monitors, all making their
sounds and set to alert medical personnel to any drastic change.
“Just
five minutes, David. Any more than that might be a strain.”
“Thanks,
César.”
César
backed away but did not fully close the door. Rob came over in his
white lab coat, wearing the badge that indicated his Intern status.
“I
think we'd better stay nearby just in case.”
Inside,
David approached the bed slowly.
“David?
Is that you?”
“Yes,
Graciela. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.
I've something important to tell you.” She coughed. A nurse gave
her an oxygen mask but she waived it away. “Promise me not to tell
my mother.”
“What
do you mean, Graciela?” He was confused. “Your mother died a
year ago.”
“Oh,
did she?” Then she laughed. “Good. I knew I could keep her
from finding out.”
“Finding
out what?”
“That
I killed Lisa.”
“You
did what?” His voice almost faded to a whisper.
“It
was the only way to get you back. I killed Lisa because you were
rightfully mine.”
David
was so shocked he could only stare. Graciela looked at him with her
demonic pale eyes and laughed. He backed away toward the door.
César and Rob rushed in just as Graciela stopped laughing and
collapsed back on the bed. The long beep indicated she had
flatlined.
“Dad,
what happened?” Rob asked.
“I....
I.... can't talk about it right now.” He could not even look his
son in the eye.
“I
think you need to sit down, Dad,” Rob said as he led him to the
couch in the waiting area.
Several
other doctors rushed into the room, one with the defibrillator.
However, that did no good. Graciela was dead.
The
funeral was three days later. David wore black, as did his children.
Miguel and his wife, the Italian wine heiress Martina Ricci, were
present, along with Adolfo and his wife, Sophia. León, Sonia,
Marta, Ramón, and Tano were also present in support. Per David's
wishes, the funeral was private and the press was not invited.
I
managed to see it from a distance. David looked stunned and said
nothing. His children remained by his side through the brief
ceremony as the ashes were put into the vault. They were not buried
or scattered anywhere in or near the vineyard. I took a few photos
with my cell phone that I could have gotten a good price for, but I
only used them to study the expressions of the attendees to see if
they were truly mourning.
Later
looked around the hospital to see if I could learn anything and
overheard two nurses talking about the accident. It seemed that the
distraction suffered by Alberto Castro was a certain intimate act
being performed on him while he was driving, a fact not released to
the press. I left before anyone was aware of my presence.
It
was reported two weeks later that David had decided to take a
sabbatical from work. He boarded Al Italia Flight 907, booked in
First Class to spend some time with Adolfo and Sophia in Portofino.
I hear they have good wine there.
However,
I will not be joining them. As soon as this manuscript is off to my
publisher I'm off to Mexico City and I will get back to you soon.
– D.D.
Labels: vino, weekend
Permalink posted by Urban Anthropologist
@ 12:30 PM
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