“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was worried about snakes with this warm weather. I didn’t think about the spiders. We’re so used to them. I should’ve warned you. Golden orbs are everywhere in the vines. They eat the bees.”
Taylor shuddered again. All the time she’d been snipping, she’d been working amongst spiders.
“I’m sorry, Pete. I can’t go back there.” She stared at the leaves that she’d been admiring for their beautiful colours. Now she’d discovered they’d been concealing the thing she feared most.
“You don’t have to.”
“But I want to help.”
“You can be the bucket girl.”
Taylor looked at him sceptically. If there were spiders in the vines they could easily be dropped in the buckets with the grapes.
“You can run the water bottles to people as well.”
Once more Taylor looked at the vines. What had once been a thing of beauty now harboured her worst nightmare.
“Sit here until you get your breath back.”
“I’m okay.” Taylor uncurled her fingers.
Pete unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and offered it to her. His eyes filled with kindness. Some people laughed at her fear, told her to get over it. If only it were that easy. Pete wasn’t one of those people.
She took the drink from him. “You go. I’ll stay here a bit longer.”
He took her free hand in his. They were both sticky from the grapes. His felt rough but comforting. “I’ll do another bucket run and come back.”
“I’ll be fine, really. Don’t worry about me.”
He squeezed her hand then smiled as his skin stuck to hers. He peeled it away, gave her a reassuring smile and strode back to the vines. Taylor leaned back in her chair and sucked in another long, slow breath. Her heart was still beating fast. Whether it was still because of the spider or because of Pete’s touch she wasn’t sure.
CHAPTER
39
Taylor turned sharply at a gentle tap on her arm.
“Sorry.” Pete had come up behind her. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She put down the buckets she’d just emptied and pulled off her gloves.
“I’m still imagining spiders everywhere. Wish I wasn’t so silly.”
“It’s not silly.” His concerned eyes stared deeply into hers. “A fear like that is not something you can turn on and off.”
“Unfortunately. Thanks for these.” She jiggled the gloves in the air. “It helps.”
“I should have given them to you at the start. Some people prefer gloves.”
Pete turned back to look at the group still picking. Taylor felt like the lights dimmed when he looked away.
“I keep needing your help,” he said. “I’ve another favour to ask.”
Once more his gaze locked with hers.
“Sure,” she said. There was little she wouldn’t do for him at this point. “Unless you want me to pick grapes from spider-infested vines. That I won’t do.”
“No.” He grinned. “Would you go to Coonawarra? I’ve ordered a picnic lunch from the store there.”
“Of course.”
Jane joined them. She groaned and stretched her back and legs. “Every year I forget how much hand-picking makes my back ache.”
Pete gave her a peck on the cheek. “You know how much I appreciate your help.”
“I do. And I’ll know it even more when you pay me.” She winked at Taylor.
“Would you like to go with Taylor to pick up the food?”
“Yes please.”
“I think we’re nearly done and everyone will be hanging out for something to eat.”
“Donella’s creations are always welcome.” Jane looked at Taylor. “We can take my car if you like.”
Taylor picked up her camera bag from the ground beside the bin. She hoped she’d captured some good shots during the morning.
“See you soon,” Pete called as they set off along the track and past the winery to where Jane and Ben had parked their car near Pete’s cottage.
“Do you do much hand-picking?” Taylor asked.
“No, only when Pete asks us. Ben works here as their part-time cellar hand but he hasn’t been much help lately. His dad’s been laid up with an injured leg and we haven’t been able to get away from the property like we could before.”
They climbed into Jane’s four-wheel drive and headed out of the winery onto the dirt road. Along the side of the road Taylor noticed two cars, both had seen better days if their patchy paint was anything to go by.
“Picker’s vehicles.” Jane nodded towards them as they passed. “Ben and I just got on the road ahead of the convoy this morning.”
“Convoy?”
“Quite a few of the seasonal pickers stay in town. They’re all employed by the same contractor so they set off for the one vineyard at the same time and come home at the same time.” Jane chuckled. “If you get stuck behind them on the highway, you never want to be in a hurry. Most of their cars only do about eighty.”
Taylor twisted her head to take another look. That explained her trip home the morning after her bender at the pub. She was relieved to know she hadn’t imagined the odd string of vehicles.
“Now the shit’s going to hit the fan.”
Taylor turned back at Jane’s words. They had reached the highway and a familiar vehicle slowed in front of them. Instead of turning off the highway and onto the track to the winery, it picked up speed and kept going. “Was that Ed?”
“Yep. Looks like Pete will have a reprieve for a little bit longer.” Jane looked left and right and pulled out onto the highway going in the same direction as Ed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Ed and Pete are like chalk and cheese. A blow-up was bound to happen one day. Still, what’s life without a bit of drama?”
Taylor chewed her lip. It hadn’t worked out with Ed but she didn’t wish him any ill. She thought she might be falling for Pete big time but she was trying to keep that to herself. The idea of the two brothers at loggerheads made her very uneasy.
“Sorry to be such a stickybeak but I gather you went out with Ed for a short time.”
Taylor glanced across at Jane. “Yes, but it didn’t work out.”
“I’m glad.” Jane gave her an apologetic smile. “You’re way too nice for him.”
Taylor felt an urge to defend Ed. He did have a sharp side but she thought that only came out when he was provoked. “We had some fun together. It seems he wasn’t my type.”
“So what made you stay?”
“I was offered work.”
“Oh, I thought…it’s just you seem friendly with Pete.”
“He’s a nice guy too.”
“Yes he is.” Jane turned off the highway and pulled up in front of the Coonawarra store. “Uh-oh. Looks like Ed’s here.”
One car over Taylor could see his four-wheel drive but Ed wasn’t in it.
They both got out and Jane fiddled with the keys. “He’s probably called in for lunch as well. What should we say?”
Taylor’s insides churned but she wasn’t going to lie to Ed’s face. “Hello and we’re getting lunch too?”
“Hmm.” Jane pushed open the door to the store.
Taylor followed her inside. Ed had his back to them, questioning the woman behind the counter about the big box of food she was trying to give him.
“Pete ordered it for Wriggly Creek Winery,” she was saying. “He said someone would come to collect it at lunchtime.”
“I know nothing about it.” Ed said. “I’ve just called in for some lunch on my way north.”
“We’ve come to collect it.”
Ed turned and the woman behind the counter looked past him to Jane, relief on her face.
“Hello, Jane. I’m sorry. Pete didn’t tell me who was picking the picnic hamper up.”
Ed gave Taylor a nod and a questioning look.
“We’ll take it, Donella.” Jane stepped up to the counter and put her hands under the box.
“There’s a second box.”
“I can take that,” Taylor offered.
“You may not have met Taylor, Donella.” Ed stood like a statue amidst them all. “She’s doing a bit of work for us.”
“Oh, I’d heard that. Pleased to meet you, Taylor.” Donella handed over a smaller box. “Hope you enjoy the picnic.”
“Thanks, Donella.” Jane turned on her heel and made for the door. Taylor followed her but before they reached it Ed was there, opening it for them.
“Ladies.” He smiled and Taylor gave a little shiver. She had a sudden recollection of the spider on the grapes.
“I didn’t know Pete had time for picnics,” Ed said.
“Just a bit of a get-together.” Jane stepped past him.
“Must be a few of you.” Ed fixed his look on Taylor.
“Hopefully there’s leftovers,” she said. “Save me cooking tonight.” She slid through the door and hurried after Jane.
They stowed the boxes in the back of the four-wheel drive and climbed in. Jane started the engine. She tugged her seatbelt across her shoulder. “I know you don’t want to be disloyal, Taylor, but there’s something about Ed Starr I just don’t like.”
Taylor looked at the shop door. It was closed again and there was no sign of Ed. As Jane backed out Taylor shifted her gaze to the car they’d been parked next to. She’d been so focused on getting the picnic past Ed she’d only taken in that there were two figures sitting in the front of the neighbouring vehicle. Just as Jane swung the four-wheel drive onto the road the driver turned his head. Taylor recognised him now. It was Frank Lister, the man who’d driven Mr Zhu and Mr Cheng and who had bought the last of Pete’s reserve cab sauv. She twisted in her seat to try to get a better look at his passenger. Now that she thought about it he could have been of Chinese appearance.
She wondered what Ed was up to. Perhaps Pete wasn’t the only brother covering something up.
CHAPTER
40
It was well after Taylor’s seven o’clock meal time as Pete walked from his back door to the quarters, a bottle of cab sauv in his hand. He was tired but far from being able to sleep. The day had gone well. They’d got all the grapes off in good time and even though he and Antoine had been putting all of today’s grapes through the crusher they’d still managed to join in with the picnic.
Pete had been expecting Ed might turn up, but he hadn’t. Taylor’s report of running into him in Coonawarra with Lister and a Chinese man had Pete worried but whatever Ed was up to it had bought Pete time.
He came to a stop outside the quarters and took a breath. It was done. The hand-picked cabernet was now safely tucked away in the fermenter. The last of their cabernet would be harvested over the next week as machines became available and that would be vintage over for another year.
He knocked and Taylor called come in. She was sitting with Antoine on the couch. They had a bottle of beer each and the laptop open between them.
“Welcome.” Taylor smiled up at him.
“Am I too late for dinner?”
“Of course not.” Taylor put the laptop aside and struggled out of the saggy couch. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Can I get you a beer?” Antoine also got to his feet.
“Thanks.” Pete put the red on the table and unscrewed the cap. “We can have this later.”
Taylor put plates of frittata on the table and they all sat.
Antoine raised his beer. “Here’s to a successful day.”
They touched the necks of their bottles together.
“Now the real fun begins. The dream becomes reality.” Pete took a swig of beer. “Years of work have gone into these grapes. Starting with the team who came up with the original grafts, to my parents, Howard, Ed and me and you, Antoine, and even you, Taylor.”
She chuckled. “That’s kind of you but I can’t lay claim to doing anything towards bringing this dream to reality.”
“You helped today.” Antoine wagged his fork at her. “Hand-picking is an important part of the journey to producing a fine wine. Now it is up to Pete to complete the process.”
Once more Taylor’s musical laugh echoed around them. “No pressure.”
“This is the part I love. I’m sorry Dad’s not here to share it but we have Howard. I respect his opinion.”
Antoine clasped his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “But the final decisions must always rest with you, my friend. There can only be one head winemaker.”
Pete picked up his beer. “I’ll drink to that.”
They finished Taylor’s frittata, did the dishes together and settled back at the table with a glass of red each.
“Show Pete your photos, Taylor.” Antoine beamed at Pete.
“I’d like to see them.” Pete’s gaze met Taylor’s across the table. Time paused, then she was getting to her feet, the moment gone.
Antoine said something but Pete missed it. He forced himself to concentrate.
“Pardon?”
“Taylor has captured the essence of hand-picking with her photographs.”
“Antoine can be very effusive in his descriptions. At least with my good lens I didn’t have to get too close to the spiders.” Once more Taylor’s chuckle filled the air as she squeezed in between them with the laptop.
Pete was glad she could laugh about her fear. He enjoyed the feel of her warm shoulder pressed against his.
Taylor opened the laptop and brought up the internet site for a neighbouring winery. “I’ve been checking out the websites of some of the other wineries in this region. Some are very simple like this one.” She pointed to the screen, scrolled down then flicked to another. “And some are quite complex – with newsletters, wine clubs, news items and stories about the wineries – but most of the other websites are static.” She paused.
“Static?” Pete turned to her. She was talking another language.
“Once the original site goes up nothing much changes.” Once more Taylor scrolled through some sites then brought up Wriggly Creek’s. “There’s nothing that gives a regular update about what’s happening in the region. Not a lot here to keep people coming back to visit your site.”
Pete had to agree with her. The Wriggly Creek site looked rather shabby in comparison to some of the others.
“That’s why I like blogs,” Taylor said. “They’re newsy and chatty and fun and keep people interested.”
“Show him.” Antoine urged from Taylor’s other side.
She closed the window and opened another.
“This is just an idea.”
The new window had the heading ‘Picked with love’ and underneath there was a close-up of a hand cradling a bunch of grapes as the snips cut the stem. Below it were more words. ‘Modern vintage can be full of machines and noise and rush but this week at Wriggly Creek the winery took a breath and paused to hand-pick our newest cabernet sauvignon, destined to become a new standard amongst the unique red wines from Coonawarra.’ Another photo followed of bunches of grapes piled high in buckets.
“We’ve only just picked it.” Pete looked from Taylor to Antoine, worry worming in his stomach. “You know so much can go wrong. This is like counting your chickens before they hatch.”
“Or your wine before it’s bottled.” Antoine chuckled at his own joke.
Taylor placed a hand on Pete’s arm. “I can change the words.”
He raised his gaze to her concerned look.
“This is just my ideas,” she said. “You can tell me what you would like to say.”
“It can be less serious.” Antoine picked up his glass and grinned. “How to make a jaunty little red.”
They all took a sip.
Taylor raised her glass. “A red for the picking.”
Antoine raised his. “A red affair.”
Pete ignored them. No matter what they called it he’d be putting his life on the internet for all to read. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this yet.”
Taylor and Antoine glanced
at each other and burst into laughter. He looked from one to the other. “What?”
“You’re not ready.” Antoine laughed louder.
Pete shook his head.
“You’re not ‘red-ee’.” Taylor emphasised the red and wiggled her fingers at him making the quote-marks sign.
Pete smiled. They kept laughing. It was infectious. He laughed too.
Finally they drew breath. Pete relaxed. He held up his glass. “Thanks,” he said. “Here’s to good company.”
“Good food,” Antoine chipped in.
“And good wine,” Taylor added.
Once more they tapped glasses and drank.
“What are you going to call it?”
Pete tipped his head to one side and looked at Taylor.
“Call what?”
“Your new red. It’s just that other wineries seem to have names for their wines. This one will have to have a different name from your other cab sauvs.”
“Wriggly Creek’s sparkling shiraz is called Pearl’s Starr,” Antoine offered.
“Dad named it after Mum.” Once again Pete wished his parents were here enjoying this moment. He was sure they would have liked Taylor and Antoine.
“There must be a story there,” Taylor said. “Several of the other wineries have their family stories on their websites. We need something unique.”
“Nothing much to tell,” Pete said. “Dad and Mum planted the vines with the help of Howard. The winery grew. Ed and I were just starting to be useful in the family business when Mum and Dad were killed. We’ve been trying to hold it together ever since.”
Taylor snapped her fingers. “There you are. Two orphaned brothers left with a legacy. And there’s that wonderful photo hanging in the back room at the cellar door of your family planting. It’s a great story, it just needs more filling.”
Pete couldn’t imagine how anyone would be interested.
“People who drink your wine want to know the story behind it. Was there anything else your dad was passionate about?” Taylor asked.
“They were involved in the community. They played sport. They helped raise funds for community projects. They were involved in local wine industry committees. Ed and I still do that.”
Between the Vines Page 23