The Grass is Greener

by Loretta Hill

  ‘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.’

  ‘Me and Chris?’

  ‘Yes, Bronwyn,’ he said impatiently. ‘You two have always been perfect for each other. Knowing that made leaving that much easier.’

  Bronwyn ran a hand across her brow. ‘Of course.’

  He turned away from her, frustrated with a conversation that was simply turning in circles. He located his pipette further down the bench and picked it up.

  She broke the silence first. ‘There’s a reason I didn’t come back and I’m guessing it’s not what you think, but you need to know the truth.’

  He was interested but tried not to let it show, moving instead towards a beaker of chardonnay must. He added ten millimetres of must to the distilled water he’d prepared earlier.

  She marched up to the bench and stood beside him. ‘Jack, look at me. This is important.’

  Then he made the mistake of doing just that, turning his head and catching those deep blue eyes and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose that swamped him with so many memories. For a moment he could do nothing but stare back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she murmured.

  What am I doing again?

  A flash of recollection jolted him. ‘TA test,’ he blurted, picking up his mixture and moving it to a second bench where another piece of equipment stood waiting.

  ‘A what?’ She followed him.

  ‘Titratable acidity test. You might want to stand back a bit.’

  Just for my peace of mind.

  ‘Why?’

  He positioned a tall glass burette containing a clear solution over the beaker and indicated the substance it contained. ‘When I add this to the wine there may be a small explosion. I’d hate for your clothes to catch on fire and burn off, especially after what happened the last time I saw you naked.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ Her eyes were wide.

  He nodded gravely. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Argh.’ She shot him an exasperated glare. ‘Are you ever serious? About … about anything?’

  ‘Life’s too short.’

  And I’d rather avoid talking about you and Chris.

  He took a deep breath and turned his back on her again, slowly dripping the sodium hydroxide from the burette into the beaker, watching his pH probe until the reading he wanted appeared. ‘You’ve gotta take the good times when you can.’

  ‘No, Jack,’ she said harshly, ‘you need to fight for them, otherwise you’re just swept away by the bad ones.’

  He sighed. ‘Still can’t help lecturing me, can you, Numbat?’ He turned around. ‘You need to loosen up. Kick off your shoes. Let down your hair.’ Before he thought the action through, he reached out and unclipped the hair claw holding her knot in place. Her hair rapidly untwisted and whisked across her pink cheeks and around her shoulders. All in all it looked much better, but as she stood there staring at him like the Statue of Liberty with her torch blown out, he realised that maybe he’d gone too far.

  That was not cool, man! Not cool.

  ‘Just a thought,’ he said quickly. He put her clip on the bench and spun back to his beaker. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled down the reading from the burette on his notepad. The silence behind him was palpable.

  Finally, he heard her snatch her clip off the bench. His peripheral vision caught her retwisting her hair in short, sharp movements. When she was done, her voice came out tersely.

  ‘There’s something you need to know about what happened five years ago. My mother wanted me to stay in law that badly that it she sent you the plane tickets and the job offer in Bordeaux and the note explaining it all.’

  ‘No.’ He turned around, shaking his head. ‘My dad sent me those things.’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong, Jack,’ Bronwyn said firmly. ‘It was my mother.’

  Jack stilled, his throat dry. ‘So you’re saying my dad didn’t want me to leave town?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He had no idea where I went till I made first contact?’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed breathlessly.

  That can’t be right.

  ‘It doesn’t make sense. Why would your mother think that getting rid of m
e would keep you in law?’

  Bronwyn took a deep breath, her eyes wide and glistening. ‘Think about it, Jack.’

  ‘I am,’ he protested. ‘Nothing is coming to mind.’

  She threw up her hands. ‘Because I was in love with you, you idiot. She knew a rejection from you would send me flying back to her, and it worked.’

  He gazed at her in complete and utter shock. ‘But Chris –’

  She shrugged. ‘I guess neither of us got what we wanted.’

  Hope caused his chest to fill and expand. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’

  ‘Because I don’t want you to resent your father and brother for the rest of your life. They don’t deserve that when it was all my mother’s doing.’ She raised her chin. ‘So now that I’ve sufficiently humiliated myself for your family’s benefit, I better get back to it.’

  ‘Back to what?’ he demanded. Anything to stall her from leaving his side.

  One eyebrow flicked up as she lifted her hands to make the quotation marks. ‘“Stealing” your inheritance, of course. Good luck, Jack. You’re going to need it.’

  And then she was gone.

  Chapter 25

  Personally, Bronwyn had had a gutful of Jack Franklin.

  Since he’d arrived, all he’d done was rock the boat. Chris was on edge. His mother was worried and his father couldn’t decide what to do about the future of Oak Hills, which, unfortunately, was now very closely linked to her own. The competition for Horace’s winery had begun and she fully intended to win.

  It wasn’t like she wanted all of Oak Hills, just a small part so that she could feel like she was contributing to something she was connected to. Her best friend would still receive a sizable inheritance and so would Jack and Chris. She didn’t know what the big problem was.

  Unless, of course, Jack preferred that she marry Chris to receive her share rather than legitimately buying into the estate. She cringed when she thought of their conversation the day before and how he had gone on about how perfect she was for Chris and how glad he had been when it seemed like they were going to get together.

  Argh! The delusion.

  She could still recall the shock on his face when she’d admitted she’d actually been in love with him.