The Winemaker

by Charmaine Pauls

  Zenna looked at Ana to read the older woman’s expression. She wasn’t sure how Ana and Pedro felt about Etán’s impulsive suggestion to put her up and give her a way out of her mess. If she had any fear Ana wouldn’t be pleased, it proved unfounded.

  Ana smiled warmly at her. “I’m so happy you are going to take that job.” She sighed. “God knows, I wasn’t looking forward to the endless interviews to find the right person. Etán always involves me with interviewing his potential employees. Why, I don’t know. He always fires whoever I suggest and follows his own head anyway. It is such a drama to get anyone who can work with him.”

  Zenna’s throat tightened. She had already guessed working with Etán was not going to be a joyride. She hoped she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew.

  “I’m glad if you’re not upset about it. It was a rather impulsive decision,” Zenna said.

  Ana chuckled. “Etán never makes impulsive decisions. If he offered you the job, it is because he thought it over and has confidence in your abilities.”

  Zenna still had her doubts, but she was stuck. It was a way out. She was so tired of running and tired of hurting. She took a sip of the wine, and absorbed the warmth of it through her body. She wished she knew how to taste wine properly.

  “So, when do you start?” Luca said.

  He was trying to read her emotions. She could feel it. She had pulled up a barrier, and they were wrestling around it. A smile curved her lips, telling him she knew what he was up to.

  Zenna and Luca were still smiling at each other when a deep voice spoke. “On Monday morning.”

  She turned to see Etán standing in the doorway. His eyes moved from her to Luca, his look measuring. Why did he always make her feel like a child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar? She tilted her head and gave him a questioning look, her eyes narrowing in silent challenge. Etán held her gaze for another couple of seconds before he strode lazily to the counter and poured himself a glass of wine.

  “Good choice,” Etán said, looking at the label.

  “Zenna says the wine description sounds like me. I rock.” Luca winked at his brother.

  Etán fixed his eyes on Zenna again when he said, “We should drink to your health, then, Luca.” He sniffed the wine and smiled with appreciation. “I spoke to Enrique. He’s letting you off the hook. You are moving tomorrow night. I’ll go back with you to collect your things.”

  Tomorrow night? He’d go with her? Moving where? Zenna frowned at the commanding way he was taking control of her life. She had asked for help to speak to the lawyer, not for taking over her life.

  Etán smiled tightly as he watched the obstinate line of her mouth. “I need to know what type of vehicle to arrange to transport your things to the estate,” he said patiently.

  Transport her things to the estate? “I thought I was going to work from Santiago, from town. I was planning on looking for a flat to rent. I wanted Enrique to let me off earlier, but I was hoping for at least a week or two more to find a new place.” When she saw his expression, she added hastily, “I could always come in twice or three times a week, if needed. Otherwise we can liaise via email, surely?”

  Luca grinned, his head moving from Etán to Zenna. “I just love watching you two mind wrestling.”

  Etán ignored his brother. His tone was hard when he spoke again. “You cannot do the job from there. You need to be by my side. Night and day. This isn’t some nine to five job. I’m sorry if I mislead you in any way. This is a job where we will be working when we need to, which sometimes may mean late nights. All through the night, if need be.”

  Luca sat back and crossed his arms. “Carry on, children; I’m starting to enjoy the show.”

  It was Zenna’s turn to ignore Luca. “I know you people are up all night when you harvest, but hasn’t the harvest already been done?”

  Etán looked amused. “You watch too many movies.”

  She brushed his comment aside. “The next harvest is a year away. I’m not going to pick grapes, am I?” It was a statement rather than a question.

  “You never know.” His shrug was nonchalant. “There are other times than harvesting that require late nights and long hours, Zenna. There will be plenty of sleepless nights before the launch.”

  Ana put down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “Etán is right, Zenna,” she said gently. “You cannot do a good job from town. You will have to be here. This is where the office is.”

  Zenna lifted her chin in defiance as she glared at Etán. It was a battle she knew she couldn’t win, but she would be damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of rolling over at his each and every command. He was downright dominant, but he didn’t intimidate her one bit.

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  This was not what she had expected. Somehow, living under the same roof as Etán didn’t sit well with her. Seeing there was no choice in the matter, she gritted her teeth.

  “I only have a few personal belongings, some clothes and books, so don’t bother to organize a truck.”

  Etán was quiet for a moment. “No furniture?” he asked, his demeanor back to his calm, stoic self.

  “No. I sold everything before I left London. We rented the house fully furnished.”

  “Good. You can have a couple of hours to pack tomorrow while I see to some unfinished business in Santiago. We’ll be heading back here tomorrow night. You’d best inform your ex-boyfriend to remove his belongings. I agreed to hand over the keys to Enrique before we leave.”

  Zenna’s mouth fell open. “I thought we were going to call Enrique together about the rental contract. Arranging for handing over the keys and whatnot wasn’t necessary. I could have done that myself.”

  “Well...” He took his time to sip his wine. “It’s done now. He won’t hold you to the notice period. You can call your ex from the lounge, if you need privacy.”

  “I don’t need to call Marcos, thank you for your consideration. He already collected his things on Thursday night.”

  Luca and Etán exchanged a look.

  Luca smiled compassionately. “I think I’ll come and help out here for a while, too, Zenna,”

  Zenna smiled at him, her expression thankful. “You will?”

  “Whenever I can,” he promised.

  Etán put his glass on the counter, bracing his hands behind his back. “You will, will you?” He directed his challenge at Luca, his voice filled with meaning.

  “Sure.” Luca jumped from the counter and put his hands on Zenna’s shoulders. “If having me around, as well, won’t be too bothersome, Sugar?”

  “Of course not.” Zenna glanced at Etán. “I suppose it’s not really my place to say.”

  Etán regarded them, his face blank. “I’ll be in the office, Mom. When do you need me back for dinner?”

  “You know the rules, Etán,” Ana said. “You come whenever you’re ready. The food won’t run away.”

  Etán gave his mother a peck on the cheek and stalked from the kitchen.

  Zenna felt strangely uncomfortable. She glanced guiltily at Ana, who only hummed while scraping the carrots into the pot for the stew.

  Chapter Six

  The guest room Zenna had stayed in during her weekend visit to Sol y Sombra was far from the suite Etán occupied. It was next to Ana and Pedro’s quarters at the opposite end of the house. She had expected to move into that same bedroom, the one with the veranda door facing the arched walkway. Instead, she stood in a suite next to Etán’s, facing the swimming pool, and a stretch of vineyards beyond.

  Etán had carried her belongings to her new rooms himself, refusing the help of the butler, Ramon, who greeted them at the door.

  Only now that he put the last of her suitcases and a box of books on the bedroom floor, did Zenna find her voice.

  “I thought I’d stay in the guest room.” She looked around the spacious bedroom with its antique French sleigh bed, silk carpets, and private lounge. “I don’t need all of this spac
e.”

  Deep down, she knew her protest wasn’t about space, but about proximity. It was about being so close to him. The man had insane affects on her. He was more potent than the wine he made. He was more lethal than Pisco. He made her head spin and other things, too, which she didn’t care to think about. He seduced her senses when it shouldn’t be possible. Her heart was supposed to ... no, did belong to another.

  Etán lifted the box of books from the floor and left it on a desk that flanked one of three large windows. “Is this all right here?”

  She nodded warily.

  “If you are going to stay for a few months, you may as well be comfortable. Sometimes I prefer to work from my room, rather than my office. Especially when the nights get long. You may prefer to sometimes work from here,” he motioned toward the desk and lounge area.

  Zenna noticed the state of the art laptop on the desk, and a stack of files lying next to it. She nodded in that direction. “Work?”

  “Yes. I pulled some files on our media contacts. You can go through our old press releases to start with. It will give you an idea of our target market and our networks. I’ll explain the articles we plan releasing in more detail tomorrow, as well as the plan for the launch.”

  She took a deep breath. “Right.” What had she committed herself to? Jumping right into the deep end, no less...

  He pointed at a door leading from the bedroom. “Your bathroom. I’ve taken the liberty of stocking it for you with things you may need. I’m no expert though.” He smiled sheepishly. “You can ask Teresa if there is anything else you want.”

  Zenna was taken aback. She hadn’t expected anyone to provide supplies for her bathroom or any other part of her personal life, especially not her employer. All right, so maybe Etán acted more like a protector than an employer, but she certainly didn’t anticipate such a considerate, personal action from a hard, demanding man like him.

  “Thank you,” she said awkwardly.

  “I’ll let you unpack, then.” He suddenly looked out of place, in the middle of her new bedroom. “Are you hungry? I normally ask Teresa to bring a tray to my bedroom on Sunday nights when I tend to do the planning for the week. I can ask her to set the table in the dining room, if you wish.”

  Zenna bit her lip. When she accepted Etán’s job offer, she didn’t think she was going to stand there, having to consider the practicalities of actually living with the man. Now they were alone, discussing intimate, silly little things like where to eat dinner. She suddenly missed the busy presence of Ana, Pedro and Luca. While they were there, she didn’t feel like a guest.

  “No, I am rather tired.” It wasn’t a lie. “I’ll eat something in my room.”

  Etán looked disappointed, but then again, she could have been mistaken. He wasn’t an easy person to read.

  “Very well,” he said, his tone approving, “I’ll ask Teresa to bring a tray to your room.”

  Zenna felt confused by the conflicting messages in his look and his voice. “Etán, you don’t have to treat me like a guest.” She laid her hand on his arm, “If I’m going to be paid to do a job, I’d rather you treat me like that. If you wish, I can go and see Teresa about food.”

  There it was again, his tight smile.

  “It is my house. I treat everyone who stays under my roof with courtesy, and I have manners, so thank you, but if I need you to serve me, I’ll let you know.”

  She didn’t know what to make of his comment so she kept quiet.

  “Good night, then. Try to go over these files before tomorrow morning. It will help if you have some background information before we get started.”

  This sure as hell wasn’t going to be a nine-to-fiver. “I’ll do that. I hope I’m not going to disappoint you.”

  She didn’t like the look he gave her one bit.

  “You won’t,” he said with much more certainty than was good for her comfort zone.

  Once left to her privacy, curiosity pulled Zenna to her new bathroom. The files could wait. Her mouth dropped open when she inspected the drawers and cupboards and found everything a girl could want in the best of brands—facial products, body scrubs, lotions, shampoos, soaps, bath salts, scented candles... She had never owned such an extensive collection of toiletries in her entire life. She was at a loss how Etán could have possibly known what to get, never mind had gone out and bought all of this. She fingered an expensive bottle of perfume that stood on an antique, wooden commode. Her new employer was more of a mystery to her than ever before.

  She unscrewed the lid of a jar of talc, inhaling the decadently feminine fragrance. She never bought talc herself. She regarded it as old-fashioned, something for grannies. The sweet smell was enough to make her dip the fluffy applicator into the powder and tap it gently to her neck and collarbone. Boy, that felt good.

  She imagined Etán standing in some women’s cosmetic store, smelling these very products, deciding which ones to buy for her. The intimacy of that thought made her blush and excited her. That explained the so-called business he had to take care of in the city while she was packing her belongings, as well as all those exclusive department store parcels he had handed Teresa when he offloaded the car. Teresa had probably slipped to her bathroom and put everything away, while Etán had offered her a welcome drink before showing her to her suite.

  She was touched. Marcos had never bought her perfume or stocked her bathroom with girlie goodies. She closed the talc and opened the perfume. She sprayed some on her wrist and brought it to her nose. It was a complex fragrance—woody, floral and exotic. She loved it, and she was a tough customer when it came to perfume. Most popular fragrances, even the most expensive ones, made her smell like a frog once the perfume had mixed with her skin. A perfume saleslady in London had once told her she had a complicated skin chemistry. Over the course of a week, the lady tried several fragrances on Zenna and finally gave up. She told Zenna it would be best if she sought someone to blend a perfume for her. As if she could have ever afforded that.

  It surely was something, to have a man like Etán tell a girl what would smell good on her. It made her feel special, and it was a pleasant feeling. Just for a moment, she had an urge to let her guard down to gently explore the fascination she felt for the man in her mind. That man wasn’t Marcos. It was a man who would go out and buy perfume for a girl he didn’t know because he had memorized her scent.

  Closing her eyes, she let down the barriers she had pulled up around herself since the weekend when Ana, Etán, and Luca were around. The feeling was liberating. It was like flying through the bars of a prison window, feeling the night, and the expanse of the sky after having been trapped inside for too long.

  As she was giving in to that wonderful sensation of emotional freedom, her scalp started tingling. Before she could manage any kind of reaction, blinding light bolted through her brain. The bottle of perfume dropped to the floor as her hands shot to her temples. An image appeared in her mind’s eye. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it was burned into her memory like an inerasable blueprint.

  Her hands on her temples couldn’t prevent the splitting pain that followed the path of the flash. She wanted to force her eyes open, but the pain was too intense. She knew the bathroom light would make it worse. She fumbled for the light switch with closed eyes, while the picture of her vision materialized as her mind recalled the memory. It was involuntary. She was going to replay what had crept into her consciousness, whether she wanted to or not.

  What she saw, was a young woman wearing a lace-trimmed nightdress, her dark hair brushed over her shoulders, trailing down her back. Her beautiful green eyes were gazing at her image in the mirror. There was contentedness, happiness. She picked up a bottle of perfume and dabbed a little bit behind each ear. Then she stood back and smiled seductively at herself before leaving the perfume on the commode.

  Zenna’s eyes shot open. The image was gone, replaced by the throbbing agony. She had turned off the lights, but could see the objects around her fro
m the bedroom light. She looked down at the commode. It was the one. The woman she had seen in her vision either had been standing here or was going to stand here, on this same spot. A shiver crept up her spine a second before a wave of nausea hit her. Bollocks. She stumbled to the bedroom, groping around for the suitcase with her toilet bag. Pills. She needed her pills.

  Zenna had no way to tell whether her visions were from the future or the past. They could be either. Sometimes, places or things would evoke visions, induced by either trauma or a very deep feeling of wellbeing. Clips of the future revealed themselves in her mind for no apparent reason. She had never learned how to sift through the information or to deal with what was happening to her. For as long as she remembered, after the teasing, the name calling, and the insulting labeling she endured in school, she had tried to hide it and hide from it. Yet people knew. Some people had known when she was little. Her mother had taken her to doctors.

  Since she had turned twenty and left her mother’s house to take her first job, those people had been after her. For years, she managed to avoid them, to almost even fool them into believing whatever they thought she had, had vanished with puberty. Then, four years ago, it happened to her in a department store in public.

  The pain had been so severe, it provoked a particularly heavy spell of vomiting. The store security guard, the first one to get to her, happened to have a cousin who suffered from meningitis, and, misreading her symptoms, had called an ambulance. After that betrayal by her body, her life became hell.

  First they called with monetary propositions. Then the calls became increasingly aggressive until she had thrown her mobile phone in the Thames. When she realized someone had started following her, she fled her flat and always managed to stay two steps ahead of them. Yet they were always close behind, always catching up. She had changed flats every few months, sometimes taking cheap rooms in hotels in-between. She had never listed her address or her new number. Her mother hadn’t even known where she lived or when she would show up for visits.