The Maxwell Sisters

by Loretta Hill

  ‘You think they had an affair.’

  She stood up abruptly and her father snatched her wrist. ‘Sit down, darling. Sit down.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Yes, you can.’

  ‘Not until you tell me what proof you have of this.’

  ‘A note, nothing more.’

  ‘A note?’ She pulled the crumpled piece of paper that somehow always found its way into her pocket and threw it on the table. ‘Like this one?’

  He slowly peeled it apart and flattened the sheet. His eyes took it in at a glance. ‘I see you’ve found it.’

  She turned away, biting hard on the fingers of one hand. ‘It’s not proof.’

  ‘Nor is it innocent.’

  Her mind darted all over the place, too fast to hold down one single thought. It was crazy. Utterly crazy. And sick.

  Her sister and her fiancé – a double betrayal that seemed much too fanciful to be real.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Please, Phee,’ he pulled on her wrist again, ‘sit down.’

  ‘No.’ She wrung her hands. ‘You’ve given me these awful thoughts about the man I love and my own sister!’

  ‘Then let me give you some good ones.’

  Slowly, she sank back into her chair, gripping the table in front of her to stop her fingers from trembling. ‘What else is there to know?’

  ‘When I accused Spider of lighting the fire he denied it. And he still stands by that. He told me that he wouldn’t do that to Eve and all he really wanted was to be accepted by the family. And he asked me if I could just give him a chance to prove it.’

  A little ray of hope burst in her chest. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said no, at first, but then he told me he had asked you to marry him and that you had already said yes, though you were both keeping it a secret till you were ready to set a date.’

  ‘So when we came to get your blessing for our engagement months later, you already knew we wanted to get married?’

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘He begged me to let him demonstrate how much he loved you and how much you loved him. So I had him on trial, darling. Watching and waiting for him to slip up. He didn’t. So when the two of you came over to tell me about your engagement, as though for the first time, I gave you my blessing.’

  ‘Very reluctantly,’ she sighed, wiping a stray tear from her eye as she remembered that day. Spider had been so tense. She hadn’t thought there was more behind that than just nervousness at asking for her father’s approval.

  ‘I do think he loves you,’ her father confirmed.

  ‘But you don’t trust him?’

  ‘He is weak. Only time will tell whether his love for you is greater than his own weakness.’

  ‘I really love him, Dad.’

  ‘I know,’ he sighed, his face dropping. ‘That’s why for your happiness’s sake, I was willing to let him try.’

  ‘Dad, what do I do? Do I turn a blind eye? Do I confront him? Do I let him go?’

  She looked into her father’s eyes and she was a little girl again, waiting to be told the correct answer. All she wanted was for him to take this burden away from her. To tell her what to do because she could not trust herself to make the right choice, when her own judgement had made her nothing but blind.

  Suddenly her father looked older than his sixty-four years. Greyer than when she had first sat down this morning. He choked a little, picking up his tea to take a refreshing sip.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She laid a hand over his. ‘I didn’t mean to tax you. It’s easy to forget sometimes that … but I don’t want to bring you lower than I already have.’

  He patted her hand. ‘It’s all right, Phoebe. I’m old and I’ve had a good life.’

  ‘Not that old, Dad,’ she protested.

  But he was thinking of something else. ‘I remember when I first came to Yallingup, a little younger than you are. Your mother and I bought this land on the bones of our arses, mortgaged to the hilt because we had a dream.’

  ‘Yes, I know. You were very brave.’

  ‘I’m not talking about courage, Phee, because we weren’t, you know.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh as he reminisced. ‘Too young and dumb to know any better. We were bullet-proof back then, invincible. Nothing could stop us. Our first big decision was what grape varieties to plant on the land.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she nodded. ‘You had enough land to choose eight.’

  ‘Yes, and it was a tough call because we were so green. I chose chardonnay first because that’s what the market told me to do. Same with cabernet sauvignon because it was as robust as hell. Your mother wanted chenin blanc and shiraz and I chose semillon, merlot and sauvignon blanc because they were good for blending. But then I had space for one more variety. This was going to be my show-off grape. The variety I made my name with and I already had some ideas in mind. You know how big a fan I am of the lighter reds.’

  She smiled. ‘Elixir for the soul.’

  ‘Exactly. But they are more risky commercially to grow. In any event, pinot noir was number one on my list of top ten. But your mother, bless her heart, was against it.’

  ‘Why?’ Phoebe asked, unsure of why he was telling her all this.

  ‘She said most pinot noir was grown in really cold places and I needed to think warmer. That night she cooked three of my favourite meals. Spicy lamb cutlets with pumpkin and feta, duck with pomegranate couscous, and finally salmon with artichoke puree and crisp peas. And she served them with a variety of reds she had bought that day – some local, some international brands. We ate, we drank, we laughed. And, ultimately, I chose a different variety. Tempranillo to be precise.’

  ‘Your tempranillo is excellent.’

  He inclined his head as though she’d stated a fact rather than a compliment. ‘Only because I know exactly what I’m going to eat with it.’

  ‘Dad, why are you telling me all this?’

  He paused, his brow creasing. ‘Sometimes what you want is not always what you need. And what you have is not actually what you think you’ve got. Wine tastes very different when you put it with a meal. And unless you’ve tasted the two together, how can you be certain exactly what wine to choose?’

  She finally grasped what he was getting at. Her path was so confusing because the truth was hazy. She didn’t have all the information she needed to make this call now.

  ‘But, Dad, that’s why I’m asking you what you think I should do with regards to Spider, because I honestly don’t know.’

  He smiled sadly. ‘Darling, is it me you should be asking? Or do you really need a good chef?’

  A good chef? She swallowed hard. Spider. He was telling her to confront Spider. He must have seen the disquiet in her eyes – the terror of asking for fear of hearing the answer.

  ‘And now, darling,’ he stood up, ‘now I’m talking about courage.’

  Chapter 24

  Eve enjoyed her day out with Tash. After their deep and meaningful on Sunday, both girls seemed inclined to stick with lighter topics. It was so lovely to feel like friends again. The morning was also productive. They both ordered their bridesmaids’ dresses and got the DJ sorted. It was easy to shop for gowns together because they looked good in the same colours and styles. In contrast to Phoebe, they also had the same taste in patterns – simple and elegant. Phee was the flamboyant one.

  There was, of course, the situation with their father to throw a dampener on the outing. They hadn’t managed to find a moment alone with him to question him about his affair. That morning, Phoebe had managed to corner him first and they supposed she had the right after his cheeky comment at breakfast.

  ‘We’ll just have to wait till tonight or tomorrow,’ Tash sighed. ‘I suppose no more harm can be done in the meantime.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ Eve agreed but she wasn’t happy with the situation either. She’d always relied on her father to be the rock in the family. And, until this point, he had never let them down. She now
couldn’t look at him the same and it weighed on her.

  Someone else who weighed on her was Adam Carter aka Adonis.

  She had not made him breakfast at the restaurant that morning. Nor did she have any intention of doing so in the near future. Her secret appeared to still be safe but for how long remained a mystery. The truth was she wasn’t quite sure if he really was serious about blackmailing her. She found his half-joking, half-teasing manner rather alarming.

  Another problem, perhaps not as serious as the first, was the question of Tash’s dressing gown. Where the hell was it? Yesterday, she had discreetly checked out the kitchen floor in the restaurant. But it was gone. She guessed Adonis must have removed it, perhaps even put it in the bin. She supposed that this was reasonable. After all, who would want to wear a dressing gown with burnt sleeves? Still, she would have liked the option of throwing it out herself. In any event, this meant she would need to find some time to purchase Tash a new dressing gown and dream up a story to explain to her how or why the first one needed to be thrown out.

  When Eve and Natasha arrived home later that afternoon, Adonis was talking to Heath and her father in the sitting room. Dusty and sweaty from his work on the restaurant or in the winery that day, he still managed to look delicious. Ashamedly, it took her a little more than ten seconds to calm her heart rate at the sight of him.

  ‘Hi, guys.’ He addressed Tash as well, though his eyes rested slightly longer on her. ‘I have some good news and some bad news.’

  ‘What’s the bad news?’ Tash pounced – always the first to hit conflict in the face.

  He grinned. ‘No wedding or restaurant stuff tomorrow.’

  ‘And the good news?’ Tash lifted an eyebrow.

  ‘I’ve decided to take the chardonnay off.’ Adonis rubbed his hands together. ‘And your father agrees.’

  ‘Not me,’ John grunted. ‘The cosmos. It’s a harvest moon tomorrow night. Energy will be drawn into the grapes from the soil – just as the moon pulls the tides.’

  ‘They’re also at their ripest,’ Adonis added with a rush of enthusiasm. ‘Great sugar, tannins and acid.’

  John seemed amused. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Refractometer and titration tests in the lab,’ Adonis rattled off with a sideways glance at John. ‘They’re good.’

  John sighed. ‘Yes, but did you taste one?’

  ‘Taste what?’ Adonis raised his eyebrows.

  ‘A grape.’

  ‘’Course I did, Max.’ He grinned and cocked his head with that teasing look Eve so enjoyed.

  ‘And?’ Her father’s brow lightened.

  Adonis’s eyes twinkled. ‘As perfect as God meant it to be.’

  ‘That’s what I like to hear.’ John’s wrinkled face softened.

  ‘Anyway,’ Adonis turned back to Eve and Tash, ‘we’ve got a heatwave coming through, starting Thursday. I’d rather get them off at first light tomorrow morning. And I’ll need everyone’s help to accomplish that as quickly as possible.’

  There was a collective groan at the earliness of the hour. But Eve knew from childhood that it was necessary. You had to pick the grapes at their coldest because it caused better retention of the fruit flavours in the wine. Picking early morning meant the sun hadn’t warmed them yet. At Tawny Brooks they only handpicked because their father thought it was better for the vine. Grape-pickers were gentler with the grapes and they wouldn’t add unhealthy bunches to their tubs, so sorting was not required afterwards.

  If Mad Maxwell allowed machine harvesting, it would take less manpower and they could pick the grapes through the night as not much light was required. She knew Oak Hills sometimes picked theirs at one or two in the morning, but it was not her father’s way.

  ‘What do you say?’ Adonis looked around at the gathered company.

  Heath glanced at Tash. ‘I’m in. Tash?’

  ‘Sure.’ She nodded without returning her husband’s gaze. ‘I’m sure Phoebe and Spider will understand. They’ll probably help too. I’m not sure about Patricia and Graeme though. They’re not exactly nature lovers.’

  Adonis looked directly at her then. ‘What about you, Eve? Are you in?’

  She lifted her chin. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good,’ he nodded and then, with another rub of his hands, headed for the door. ‘I think I’ll go find Phoebe and Spider now. Tell ’em the good news.’

  ‘Tash,’ Heath held out a hand to her sister, ‘do you want to go for a walk? It’s pretty nice out.’

  ‘Er …’ Tash looked uncomfortable. ‘No thanks.’

  He put his hand back in his pocket, a rather closed expression masking his face. Eve glanced from one to the other, feeling sorry for Heath. Why was Tash being so cold to him?

  ‘Eve and I need to talk to Dad,’ she said by way of explanation.

  ‘Oh?’ Heath raised his brows.

  Their father looked up from contemplation of a family photo on the mantelpiece. His faraway look seemed to refocus. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tash nodded firmly. ‘Alone. It’s a touchy subject.’

  With a faint smile, Mad Maxwell shook his head. ‘In that case, darling, go for a walk with your husband because I’m not ready to talk.’

  Eve blinked in shock. ‘You know what we’re going to say?’

  He sucked in a breath and released it. ‘I have an inkling. And I most certainly don’t want to talk about this right before Adam’s harvest.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘It’ll destroy all the positive energy in the atmosphere and sour my grapes!’

  ‘Dad –’

  ‘No.’ He waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I’m going to go play some music to my vines in preparation for harvest.’ And then he headed for the door, leaving them both thoroughly dissatisfied.

  Tash snorted. ‘Is it just me or sometimes do you just want to shake him?’

  Eve smiled. ‘It’s not just you.’

  ‘Tash?’ Heath looked at her questioningly again, an aching sense of vulnerability that Eve had never seen before clouding his face. She found herself wishing that Tash would just say ‘yes’ and not turn him down for that walk a second time, though it looked like her sister very much wanted to do so.

  Tash licked her lips. ‘Ah, Eve, did you want to come?’

  Eve glanced from one to the other. Something was definitely up between these two. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to get right in the middle of it. She’d had enough of that with Spider and Phoebe. For all their advice to her on men, her sisters really needed to sort out their own backyards before they came preaching to her.

  ‘No.’ She waved her hand airily, flopping down on the couch as though she hadn’t noticed anything untoward going on at all. ‘You guys go. I’m pooped. I might just sit here and read for a bit.’

  Despite the early hour, it was a marvellous feeling to be out in the vineyard at dawn, enveloped by nature and refreshed by birdsong. The sun was still low on the horizon, giving the trees and the vine that gentle backlight that made their leaves look like they were outlined in gold. Eve dressed lightly, in a t-shirt, shorts and high-visibility vest. Everyone wore gumboots too because they were easy to clean sticky juice off and, of course, a hat and sunscreen.

  It was a relief to be taking a break from the wedding and restaurant, if only for a day. Slow repetitive work in the crisp morning air seemed preferable to the high tension breakfast that had characterised all her mornings so far. Not that they were skipping breakfast that day.

  Her mother was cooking up a big brunch to be served mid-morning when they were finished. Eve was sure by then she’d be ravenous.

  The night before some of the vineyard workers had put out the ten kilo picking bins for them to fill throughout the section of vineyard they were harvesting. Adonis had pretty much worked out where he wanted everyone. That morning they dotted the fields with a pair of secateurs each, dropping grapes into the bins that had been placed there. Parked in one corner was a ute with a half tonne collection t
ub on a trailer hooked up to the back. A couple of vineyard guys were walking around picking up the full bins and emptying them into the larger collection tub. Adonis had given her the smallest area to take care of. So she was likely to finish first especially given she was an old hand at this. Her childhood had been full of harvest experiences. It was how she’d stumbled upon her first kiss – early morning pickings with an Italian backpacker they’d employed during one vintage, a rascally fellow with designs on most women in town. She wasn’t the only person he’d kissed that season and he was gone the next. As grape-picking was required for such a select time of year, her father tended to employ students, travellers, friends and family.

  Chop, drop, chop, drop. She smiled at the simplicity of the task but she was by no means bored. Not with the grasshoppers clicking around her and honeyeaters coming to say hello. She even got a look in from a fieldmouse who nonchalantly ran over her boots.

  Some of the others wore gloves but she didn’t. She liked the stickiness of the grapes on her fingers. The texture of the pretty three-pointed vine leaves brushing the backs of her hands. She figured when she was done with her section she’d just help someone else with theirs. However, as if he had a sixth sense, Adonis showed up just when she was filling her last bucket.

  ‘Hey.’ He moved in close to help her with a cocky smile and her traitorous heart began to thud faster. ‘The collection tub on the ute is just about full so I’m going to drive it back to the winery soon. When you’re done, can you come with me?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I need your help tipping the bin into the hopper.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘You can’t get one of the vineyard workers to assist you?’

  He grinned. ‘They’re all in the field. And you’re the first one to finish.’

  She was getting the distinct impression he’d planned it that way and so decided to play hard to get.

  ‘I’m not finished.’

  ‘Why do you think I’m helping you?’ She caught her breath as his arm brushed hers while he pushed some foliage out of the way to get another bunch of grapes for her bucket.