The Grass is Greener (29 page)

‘Ah, so at last you have come to your senses,' Bianca purred in satisfaction. ‘Has your friend been complaining to you of my cruelty?'

Bronwyn tossed her head. ‘Not at all. Claudia can hold her own. I'm just ringing to inform you that I know what you did five years ago with Jack Franklin. You didn't even speak to him, did you?'

Her mother was silent a few seconds too long. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘You lied to me so I would be too humiliated to do anything but accept what you wanted.'

‘I honestly can't remember what happened.' Bianca seemed unperturbed. ‘Is there a point to this conversation?'

‘That's it?' Bronwyn gasped. ‘That's all you're going to say?'

‘What do you except me to say?'

‘Maybe an apology or something? You estranged Jack from his family.'

‘Jack Franklin is not my concern. You are.'

‘Not anymore,' Bronwyn said firmly. ‘You're never going to be able to have that sort of power over me again. I'm selling my apartment. I'm cutting all ties with the city and with you.'

Bianca sucked in a breath. ‘There's no need to be so rash. If you want to take a break, fine, but why sell your apartment?'

‘I'm buying a share in the Oak Hills Winery.'

‘Oak Hills Winery!' Bianca Hanks repeated. ‘That's where you are, isn't it? Where you've been hiding. What a fool I am. I don't know why I didn't think of that before.'

‘Yes, well I have always loved this place,' said Bronwyn, ‘and it's always loved me in return.'

‘Are we back to how much I never loved you?' Bianca was contemptuous. ‘If I didn't love you, I wouldn't care what you did.'

‘Well, perhaps I'm a bit over your brand of love.' Bronwyn sighed. ‘Goodbye, Mother.'

She hung up, completely dissatisfied with Bianca's complete indifference to the havoc she had wreaked in the lives of others. It wasn't until much later that Bronwyn realised the cardinal mistake she had made during the phone call.

Bianca Hanks now knew exactly where she was.

After his dysfunctional conversation with Chris, Jack found it no easier to get back to sleep when he returned to Claudia's room. As a result, when he finally left his bed, he was tired and cranky. Not a good combination for an intense day of crushing and pressing. It didn't help that Ant was in such good spirits.

‘So have you spoken to your father yet?'

‘No.'

‘Why not? It's best we make our move as soon as possible, is it not?'

‘Depends.'

‘Depends on what?'

Jack ran a rough hand through his hair. ‘Look, I'm angry with Dad but I'm not here to make things worse. I'm here to show my family that they need me and get them back on side.'

‘I think showing your father how serious you are about zis business will do that.' Ant seemed unperturbed. ‘I wish you would stop resting on your hands, Jack, and make our offer. I have been doing ze tastings in the cellar door with zat brother of yours, who hates me by ze way, and I am done. I
need
to get back to ze winemaking. My body craves it like a smoker
craves cigarettes.' He threw his hands in the air. ‘I do not know why you continue to allow me to suffer these agonies of the suppressed artist!'

‘All right, all right,' Jack agreed with smile. ‘I'll see what I can do.'

As he finished the sentence he saw Bronwyn enter the winery yard and his mind went blank. She looked so wholesome, even in that ratty old T-shirt and pair of jean-shorts. He couldn't help but acknowledge how she fit right in. He could barely even imagine her in a corporate suit, strutting the Terrace with files under her arm. This was where she belonged.

‘Good morning, Jack,' she greeted him, rather formally. She seemed worried and he wasn't sure why that was. His senses went on high alert.

‘Hi, Bronwyn,' he said. ‘Are you helping out today as well?'

‘Where else would I be?'

‘She wishes to be by my side, toiling in the Australian sun,' Ant announced, much to Jack's annoyance.

‘Hi, Ant,' she giggled, with a warmth Jack did not like.

‘How do I compare thee to a summer's day?' said Ant. ‘Thou art more lovely –'

She blushed but shook her head. ‘You seriously need to update your reading material, Ant, but thanks.' As she walked on to help some others who were raking spent grape stalks from the crusher, Jack turned to his friend.

‘Seriously, what are you trying to do here?'

‘Light ze fire under your arse.' Ant tipped his hat at him. ‘Because if you don't get a move on, you are going to miss ze boats. All of them.'

And with a wink, he sauntered off. Jack could now completely understand why all the other cellar hands wanted to use Ant's face for target practice.

Nonetheless, he did decide to bite the bullet and talk to his father. His mother tried several times during the day to draw them together. She brought out a cart at lunchtime full of
ham-and-salad rolls and bottles of ice-cold water. It was a far cry from the images in European movies where the vineyard workers all sit around a huge table having a massive lunch and drinking a rustic red by the gallon. That sort of carry-on in the Australian heat would probably cause most of the workers to pass out.

After a hard morning's work, with much of the day still to go, the emphasis was always on a light meal with plenty of non-alcoholic fluids. Lydia made Jack pass his father a roll, hoping it might get the conversational ball rolling. Then she pushed the cart away to a group of others, leaving them alone.

‘That woman is a mastermind,' Horace said to Jack as he took the roll. ‘She knows exactly what she's doing all the time.'

‘Dad, we need to talk.'

‘Yes, we do.' Horace nodded.

They walked away from the winery towards a large gum tree and sat down on the patch of grass under it. Elsa was already laying there, tongue hanging out as she panted. She'd been feasting on skins that had dropped out of the press all afternoon. As a result, much to the amusement of the crew, and to Bronwyn's horror, she was drunk as a skunk, stumbling around the work-site before partially passing out under the tree.

Horace chuckled, briefly passing a hand between her ears. ‘Had enough, eh? You're not supposed to get pissed when you're pregnant, you know.'

She stood up unsteadily, swaying slightly on her feet before trotting off back towards the winery.

‘Oh well,' Horace swatted his hand, ‘she didn't need those brain cells anyway.'

They sat down under the tree, each biting into the rolls, both reluctant to be the first to open the floodgates.

‘I thought you would come home sooner,' Horace said at last.

‘Why?' Jack looked sideways at him. ‘When I was so unwelcome?'

Horace gave a deep sigh. ‘The accident affected us all in a lot of ways. For me it was a wake-up call. I blamed myself.'

‘Well, that was
completely
obvious,' Jack responded sarcastically. ‘I suppose that's why you told me it was all my fault and kicked me out of the country.'

‘Now that's not true.' Horace shook his head. ‘I did not kick you out. All I wanted was for you to take stock. To wake up and smell the roses. I should have been harder on you boys and instead I let you run wild. Trespassing on our neighbour's property. Throwing parties. Messing with the equipment from our business.'

‘You don't need to give me the same lecture I got from you five years ago. I've punished myself enough since then without you rubbing more salt into the wound.'

‘I know.' To his surprise, his father agreed. ‘So why are you here now, Jack? Have you come back to gloat? My eyesight is half gone, the winery is in a shambles. Did you want to point out how I couldn't do it without you?'

Jack swallowed. It was exactly why he was there. And now the revenge seemed so petty and fruitless because, if he was truly honest with himself, what he'd really come home for was family.

‘Let me help you,' he croaked. ‘I have money and you need it. Let me buy into the business.'

His father looked at him. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. Jack had to wonder how clear his face must be in his father's field of vision.

Horace's flat expression did not change. ‘I've already had another offer.'

Jack started. ‘What?'

This cannot be happening.

‘Bronwyn has offered to buy into the business as well.'

‘You can't be serious.'

‘I'm perfectly serious. That girl has been a godsend to us these past few weeks. And at least I know I can trust her. She's
never abandoned us when times got tough. Quite the opposite actually.'

‘You're really going to sell part of Oak Hills to Bronwyn Eddings?'

‘I haven't decided yet.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘It means,' Horace polished off his roll, ‘I haven't decided which of you I trust more with the labour of my life. The drop-out lawyer who has a passion for grapes, or the prodigal son who returns without so much as an apology.'

‘Why the hell would I owe you an apology?' Jack growled angrily.

‘Well, if you haven't figured that out yet, then I don't know why you came back at all,' Horace threw at him, and then stood up and stormed off.

Jack was left kicking the dirt in frustration.

Well, that went well.

 

After this less than successful conversation with his father, Jack found himself at point non plus and was not quite sure how to go on. He had never anticipated that he would be in competition over his birthright with Bronwyn Eddings of all people.

The drop-out lawyer, as his father called her, was proving to be a force to be reckoned with and an Achilles heel all at the same time. His feelings for her, he had to note, were being stirred up like the sediments at the bottom of his father's fermentation tanks, infusing the rest of the wine with new flavour. It was difficult seeing her again, and noting, moreover, that Chris had no claim on her.

Her face and manner brought back such memories. The way she had always crushed his ego, made him think deeper than himself and set him on a path that had taken him all the way to France and back. The old Bronwyn he might have trusted, even opened up to.

But this new woman was different. She was too sure of herself, too confident, sexy as hell … and on a mission to steal his inheritance to boot.

Living with his family again was also bittersweet. The smell of his mother's cooking brought a rush of memories. His brother's clothes on top of his own in the laundry basket reminded him of how close they used to be. His father's boots, sitting on the porch next to the broad-brimmed hat that hardly ever left his head, gave him such an ache in the chest.

Some things never changed.

Others definitely had.

Dinner that night was an exercise in awkwardness. Chris and his father were out of excuses, so when his mother put a tray of lasagne on the table they reluctantly took their places. In the past, the evening meal with his family had always been loud and opinionated. Everybody interrupting everyone else – butting in to be heard, joshing the speaker or adding two cents' worth. Silence was unheard of.

In this case, however, his brother focused solely on his meal, responding concisely when Lydia asked him how things had gone in the cellar door that day when everyone else had been at the winery. Horace commented briefly on how good the lasagne went with his cabernet merlot, but probably wished he hadn't said anything because Lydia immediately pounced on him.

‘That puts me in mind of something. You forgot to take your medicine today.'

‘Well, I was pretty busy,' Horace grunted. ‘Why didn't you come out and grab me?'

Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘It's not my job to chase you about. I was busy making sandwiches for the troops. What you need, Horace, is a mobile phone.'

‘Eh?'

‘Then I can get you whenever I need you.'

Horace looked so horrified Jack had to cough to hide his smile.

‘I don't want no newfangled rubbish hooked up to my arse,' Horace swore.

‘It's hardly newfangled,' Lydia insisted. ‘Back me up here, Chris.'

His brother tapped his chin. ‘People have been using them for over twenty years.'

‘You know, I think I'll get one too,' Lydia seemed inspired. ‘Maybe we can get a two-for-one deal or something. I hear they do packages now.'

Horace shook his head firmly. ‘I'm already losing my eyesight. I don't want a brain tumour as well.'

‘There's no evidence they cause tumours.' Lydia frowned and then her eyes lit up with a sudden thought. ‘What about bluetooth? You'll love it.'

‘Blue what?' Horace was flabbergasted.

‘It's hands-free,' Lydia replied with an air of superiority. ‘And it doesn't have to be blue. I hear you can get them in a range of colours.'

‘Because all a man needs in his life is rainbow-coloured teeth and no hands. What are you on, woman? I swear to God you're enough to drive a bloke mad. Give me the pill box. I'll take anything you want.'

Jack, Chris and Bronwyn all grinned at each other as Lydia triumphantly got up from the table to get Horace's medicine. For a second it was just like old times. Then Chris seemed to remember first. His smile faded and Bronwyn dropped her eyes. Lydia returned to the table and Horace took his pills. They were all silent once more until the meal ended and a tightness developed in Jack's chest. Would things ever be the same again?

The following morning he locked himself in his father's lab under the pretence of testing their produce. He only had a few simple tests to do, so unfortunately it wouldn't keep him busy for very long. In all honesty he had been concerned that they'd picked the chardonnay a little late, so this analysis wasn't a
complete waste of his time. He poured a portion of distilled water into a glass beaker, shoved a pH probe into it and set it down on the bench. Standing back, he looked around for his pipette and as he did so heard a short rap of knuckles against wood.

He turned to find Bronwyn standing on his threshold. So she'd found him despite his bid for space.

‘Hey, Numbat, you're up early.'

She shrugged, shoving her hands in snug-fitting jeans that showed off her shape to perfection. She'd pinned her beautiful blonde tresses back. He'd didn't like her hair as much like that but he could definitely run with it if he had to. Especially with all that lovely neck exposed.

‘I had to see you about something,' she said.

‘Is this the part where you apologise for trying to steal my inheritance?' he said, probably a little too harshly.

‘So your father told you about me wanting to buy in.'

‘You mean steal.'

She put her hands on her hips. ‘I'm not trying to steal anything.'

‘Well, sure looks like that from where I'm standing. I wonder if you've told Claudia about it. After all, it's her inheritance as well.'

Bronwyn bit her lip. ‘No, I haven't told her but I don't think she'd be against it. I'm trying to save this business, not take it away from you guys.' She paused as though searching for the right words. ‘Jack, you
know
me.'

‘Do I?'

‘Yes,' she hissed. ‘You know how much I love Oak Hills and how much I've always wanted to be part of it.'

‘Which explains why you went off to the city for five years,' he accused. ‘Weren't you just boasting to me a few days ago about what a good lawyer you are?'

She sighed. ‘Yes, but that was just a defence mechanism. Claudia is the good lawyer, Jack. Not me.'

‘Then why didn't you come back when you said you were going to? Five years ago, you were quitting law to be with Chris.'

She blanched. ‘Not to be with Chris.'

‘You said you wanted to help and I thought you two were finally going to get together.'