by Jan Moran
“I’m sure you know the wine industry publications. We can start with Wine Appreciation magazine. Bessie Waters is a friend, and she wants to talk to you. I can arrange an interview soon.”
Henri shifted uneasily in his chair. “We’ll see.” Her husband had been intent on photographing him, but Henri had successfully dodged Gilbert Waters and his shiny Graflex Speed Graphic camera.
Juliana looked quizzical. “Does this have anything to do with why you didn’t want your photo taken?” She paused and smiled. “Or were you just running away from me?”
“What can I say?” He attempted a laugh, but it came out strangled. Actually, he had been avoiding her. Juliana had unnerved him—he hadn’t allowed himself to feel like this about a woman in years.
Juliana’s manner softened. “I saw the family photographs in the living room.”
Solange had been experimenting with photography, so Henri had relented, knowing these photographs would go no farther. He’d lived in the shadows for so long that this behavior was firmly entrenched. “Those were personal. For business, I’d rather the focus be on the wine.”
“Readers identify with photographs. They feel like they know you a little, so it personalizes the experience for them. I’m not making this up. In school, I studied the psychological behavior of the buying public. There are a lot of new theories I can share with you that demonstrate—”
“No. I have to protect the girls.” When Juliana looked questioningly at him, he instantly knew how odd his words must have sounded. To divert attention, he asked, “What other thoughts do you have on promotion?”
She sighed and ran her finger down a list she’d prepared. “On the weekends, you could offer wine tastings and discussions. You have enough room here for people to stay the weekend, too.”
Too many strangers. “What else do you have?”
“Large conference and business meetings in the city—you could address attendees as a cultural addition to a schedule.” Juliana tapped a notepad in her folder. “This just came in, but I don’t have the green light yet. There is an important event for the new Children’s Hospital in San Francisco soon. Their event coordinator fell ill, so a friend referred me to them. If I’m chosen, would you consider being an underwriter? Your wine would be served at the gala and you—sorry, your wine—would be featured in all the publicity.”
“Sounds like I’m going to be busy.” Some of her ideas were appealing. His life was safe and serene, but perversely, he missed the excitement of his former life. He’d never felt more alive than when facing death. Back then, he’d had a cause worth fighting for.
Juliana slid a typed proposal across the table. “Here’s a breakdown of what we’ve discussed and the deposit I’ll need to begin working for you.”
She was direct. He liked that. “Looks fine to me. Welcome to Chateau Laurent wines.” Henri clinked his glass to hers. As difficult as it was for him, it was time he began living again. He couldn’t think of a woman more full of life than Juliana Cardona.
Even as he was toasting to their success, Henri wondered how much he could trust her to tell her about his past, if he could bring himself to do so.
4
“Have you heard back from the fundraising committee?” Juliana paused on the Howell Mountain hillside to roll up the legs of her dungarees. She loved the views from this side of the Mille Étoiles vineyard.
Caterina shaded her eyes from the sun. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Let’s stop here then. It’s awfully warm today.” Juliana gestured to a shady tree near the edge of a block of cabernet grapes.
“Better for the grapes, but not for us,” Caterina said, laughing. She hitched the bag she carried higher on her shoulder and started for the tree.
After Caterina flung out a blanket, the two friends settled in a spot near the ripening grapes with a view of the valley below. At this elevation, they were above the fog line from the bay area, which meant hot days and cool nights—superb weather for wine grapes.
Juliana reached for Caterina’s bag and drew out a bottle of wine and a loaf of warm bread her mother had just removed from the oven when she’d arrived. “You have to try this wine.”
“What is it?”
“I picked it up yesterday at Chateau Laurent.”
“You went to Henri Laurent’s home?” Caterina let out a whistle. “Is there anything I should know about?”
Laughing, Juliana inserted a corkscrew and pulled the cork. “Henri’s nice, but I’m not ready, Cat.” In truth, Henri Laurent unsettled her. Maybe it had been the wine, or meeting Henri’s children. Or the way he’d looked at her. Regardless, she’d had a chance to clear her mind after their meeting.
“There’s no one exactly like Alfonso,” Caterina said with a gentle touch to her hand. “Give this man a chance. Don’t wait forever, Jules.”
“You should talk.” Juliana checked the cork out of habit and then poured the wine into the glasses.
“You know my circumstances are different.” Catrina bit her lip and glanced down.
“I know, I’m so sorry.” Juliana raised her glass. “Here’s to us figuring out our lives.”
Juliana watched as Caterina placed her nose inside the glass and sniffed. She held it to the sky, inspecting the color, and then swirled the wine to release more of the bouquet before checking it again. Caterina was so talented, and she trusted her opinion.
Caterina sipped slowly. Raising her brow, she said, “That’s a fine cabernet.”
“It’s not quite at the level of Mille Étoiles, but then, few wines are.” Still, Juliana liked it immensely.
“So, tell me more about Henri. I saw you speaking to him at the press event. You two seemed pretty intense.”
Juliana watched a hawk soaring at eye level to the mountain, hovering whenever it spied potential prey. “We had a good meeting, and I met his two children. Anne and Beatrice—such little ladies, but they seemed lonely way out there in Calistoga. Anyway, Henri and I shared some wine and talked.” She paused, shaking her head.
“What is it?”
Juliana took a sip. “Henri has such a nice way with his children. And he was clearly in love with his wife. He’s probably seven or eight, or maybe ten years older than I am and has a passion for wine. But when I’m near him, I get nervous, kind of jittery. I almost didn’t go to his home.”
“Hmm. He’s awfully good looking, too.”
Juliana fanned herself. “He looks nothing like Alfonso.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she blanched. She couldn’t believe she’d just compared Henri to Alfonso. “Anyway, I have to figure out how to work with him. He makes me a little ill at ease.”
“That’s called attraction, Jules. Or lust.”
“Absolutely not.” Juliana sliced the air with her hand for emphasis. “I don’t plan on making any mistakes.”
Caterina swirled her wine again. “None of us plan on it,” she said quietly.
“Oh Cat, I didn’t mean it like that.” What was wrong with her today? Juliana touched her friend’s hand with empathy. Last year, Caterina had given birth to a baby girl, but she hadn’t been able to tell her mother. Ava Rosetta was a formidable force, and Caterina was sure she would disown her. She faced an insurmountable problem. It seemed there was no way out; she’d been struggling to make a heart-wrenching decision. Juliana couldn’t imagine what she would do in Caterina’s circumstance.
“It’s okay, but you should learn from my mistakes,” Caterina said, blinking hard.
Juliana hugged her. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Marisa is a beautiful little girl.” Caterina was considering giving her daughter up for adoption, a decision Juliana knew was difficult for her.
“Thank you, Jules. I’m not sure what I’ll decide to do.” Caterina looked up at her with moist eyes. Wiping her eyes, she sniffed, and then pushed her dark wavy hair from her face. “Let’s get back to you.”
“There’s not much else to say.” Juliana unwrapped th
e tea towel from the bread and tore off a piece for Caterina. “Alfonso and I were kindred spirits. I don’t know if I’ll ever find that again. Why marry someone, like Sherri did, only to find out your husband was keeping secrets from you?” Another childhood friend was in the process of divorce proceedings.
“Not every man is like Dennis. Sherri should have gotten to know him better before they married. She was the one who rushed him.” Caterina tasted the bread. “This is delicious. But really, you and Alfonso were unique. You’d known him for years.”
Juliana tried to remember if Alfonso had ever made her feel the way Henri did. They’d been friends before they began dating, so it had been different, more natural. “The number one rule to being in business is don’t get romantically involved with a client. It’s a sure way to lose a good client.”
“Speaking of clients, I have news about the gala event. The chairwoman of the new Children’s Hospital fundraising committee came to dinner with her husband at the hotel.” Caterina grinned. “Alma Jenkins wants you to call her after the weekend.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Not much. It seems you got a rave review from Bessie Walters, who is one of her friends. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re at the top of her list. Most of the other people who put on events like that are booked months in advance.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Jenkins first thing on Monday morning.”
“I know you’re excited, but don’t sound too eager. Let her make an offer first, but if she won’t, start high. Say you’ll consider it and then call her back in an hour. Don’t agree too quickly.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. It will make her and the committee feel like they’re fortunate to have acquired your services, so they’ll respect you more.” Caterina grinned. “And I found out that she does speak Spanish. She’s from Argentina.”
“Muchas gracias, mi amiga,” Juliana said. She’d been born in the San Joaquin central valley in California, but her mother had insisted she study Spanish in school so she would speak her native language properly, not like the field hands that her parents were. Nina was proud of her Mexican heritage, but she desperately wanted her daughter to have the advantage of being a well-spoken American who also sounded educated in her native language. To Nina, that began with the way Juliana spoke and conducted herself.
Juliana’s mother was as strict as Caterina’s mother, and she hadn’t been happy when Juliana had moved away from home. In her mother’s culture, young women lived with their parents until they were married. But Juliana had argued that she was practically a widow since Alfonso had died. And she was older than most unmarried women.
Juliana nibbled on the bread. “Are you sure your mother doesn’t want Mille Étoiles involved in the event?”
Caterina shook her head. “She’s fully committed right now. This event is all yours, Jules. It will help your business. Getting into that society crowd is a real challenge.”
“Thanks for passing along a great opportunity.”
Caterina clinked her glass. “Good friends stick together. Good luck, and call me as soon as you know something.”
* * *
Later that evening, after Juliana had stayed for supper at the main house with Caterina, Ava, Raphael, and Nina, she’d started down the mountain’s narrow road in her Chevrolet. A sliver of the moon perched in the night sky, which was illuminated with a thousand stars. She cranked down her windows to let the balmy night air in.
When she reached the boarding house where she lived, she parked in back and opened the door to the screened-in porch. The wide-planked floor creaked under her footsteps. Outside the screen, crickets chirped their evening song.
“Good evening, Juliana.” Mrs. Morales peered over the top of her reading glasses. “You’re home late this evening. I’ve been waiting up for you. At your mother’s, were you?”
“I had supper at Mille Étoiles.” Juliana suppressed a smile. Mrs. Morales had never married. She’d turned the large home she’d inherited into a women-only boarding house, often treating those who lived there like her daughters. “I brought you a loaf of Mama’s bread. I’ll leave it in the kitchen.”
“How thoughtful of you. Wait just a moment. Something came for you today.” The woman put her knitting aside and removed her glasses. Pushing herself up from her chair, she crossed to a table near the entry to the house.
“What is it?” Juliana couldn’t imagine what it was. She waited, thankful for the breeze blowing through the screen. Her room was upstairs. While it was warm during the day, the evening breeze cooled her room in the evening.
“It’s a letter.” Mrs. Morales smiled. “Looks like you have a youthful friend.”
Juliana looked down at the letter. The handwriting was childish. The address read: Miss Juliana Cardona, Napa. It was such a small village that no street address was required. Mr. Sanders, the postmaster, knew everyone.
“Thank you,” Juliana said, opening the door to go inside.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“When I get upstairs.”
“Oh. Well, you can open it down here. I wouldn’t mind.”
“Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Mrs. Morales, but I’m a little tired. Good night.” Juliana stifled a laugh. Her landlord lived vicariously through her boarders. She had strict rules—a curfew, no men allowed upstairs, no alcohol or tobacco, and church attendance strongly encouraged. However, she made allowances for Juliana’s wine, saying that as long as the wine was there in the ordinary course of her business, it was acceptable. Especially if Juliana brought an occasional bottle of cabernet sauvignon to Mrs. Morales.
Once inside her room, Juliana kicked off her espadrilles and sank onto the white chenille spread covering an iron-framed bed that squeaked when she sat down. Curious, she opened the envelope.
* * *
Dear Miss Juliana Cardona,
We liked meeting you very much. And we loved you too. You can be our mother. Because we do not have one. We want to see you soon again. We hope you do too.
Love,
Anne and Beatrice
P.S. Henri is nice too. You can get married.
* * *
Juliana laughed, delighted with the letter the girls had clearly composed and written. She wondered how they had managed to mail it. Did Henri know? Surely not. It would be a secret between her and the girls, she decided, admiring the hearts the girls had drawn on the letter.
After washing her face and climbing into her creaky spring mattress bed, Juliana thought about Anne and Beatrice and how lonely they must be. At least she’d had friends her age at Mille Étoiles when she was a child.
She snuggled into her clothesline-fresh cotton sheets. Before she said her prayers and turned off the lamp on her nightstand, she decided that even if she were on purely professional terms with Henri, she could still be friends with the little girls.
5
Juliana hurried from her afternoon tea meeting to a phone booth inside the lobby of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. Sunlight streamed through the ornate arched glass ceiling behind her in the garden court. She closed the folding glass door against the din of the lobby and perched on the wooden bench, adjusting the narrow skirt of the square-necked, fitted dress she’d sewn herself. In a vivid shade of claret red, the dress matched her small felt hat, and she’d paired her ensemble with cream-colored gloves. Removing a clip-on rhinestone earring, she picked up the telephone receiver.
After the operator put her call through, Juliana clutched the phone, grinning broadly when she heard his deep voice. “I have great news for you, Henri. The Children’s Hospital fundraising committee would be thrilled to serve Chateau Laurent wine at its gala next week. They loved your wine!”
“That’s wonderful,” Henri exclaimed. “Where are you right now?”
After she told him, he said, “Stay right there. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“You’re not driving to the city now, are you?”
“Why not? This calls for a celebration. We’ll make it an early night if you like, but celebrate we will.”
Henri sounded so excited that Juliana relented, laughing.
“Can’t wait to see you, Juliana.” His voice dropped a notch. “I’ve kind of missed you.”
“It’s only been a few days, Henri. And I’ve been working on your publicity campaign.”
“You can tell me all about it when I see you. I’ll kiss the girls and be on my way.”
After hanging up the telephone, Juliana sat in the muffled quiet of the telephone booth for a moment, trying to sort out her feelings. Her heart was pounding, she was unreasonably excited about seeing him. She kept telling herself he was only a client.
When Henri arrived at the front of the Palace Hotel, Juliana slid into his shiny red Cadillac Eldorado convertible. Henri greeted her in the European fashion with a kiss to each cheek. Juliana struggled to maintain her composure and appear cosmopolitan, but inside her nerves were doing the cha-cha.
“What a grand time we’re going to have.” Henri sounded even more enthusiastic than on the telephone. “I’ve got a treat in store for you.”
“Well, don’t hold back,” she said, laughing. “I hope I’ve dressed appropriately.”
He glanced appraisingly at her and smiled. “You look sensational. We could go to a fancy Nob Hill restaurant, or we could have a culinary adventure. Which one do you vote for?”
“Adventure, any day.”
Henri grinned at her. “Do you like Chinese food?”
“Absolutely,” Juliana replied. After the formal tea she’d had at The Palace, this idea sounded like fun.
“Chinatown, here we come.” He turned onto Market Street and wound through Union Square to Grant Avenue.
Soon they were driving through the festive lights of Chinatown. Strings of red lanterns lined Grant Avenue and the shops shimmered with beautiful offerings. Juliana loved it, even though she knew it wasn’t truly authentic. After the earthquake and fire of 1906, the area had been rebuilt in an Americanized ‘Oriental’ fashion. Still, if she closed her eyes and drank in the aromas and sounds, it was as if they’d flown across the sea and landed in Hong Kong or Shanghai. “Do you come here often?”