Last of the Vintage

by Kerry J Charles

  Dulcie moved Jeremy and Samantha toward the opposite end of the room. She had just explained the logistics of the evening. Jeremy kept nodding eagerly as she spoke. He looked like a puppy in anticipation of a new toy or a treat.

  Samantha appeared distracted. ‘I should take her into the gallery,’ Dulcie thought. ‘She wanted to see the exhibit, and she looks so uncomfortable here.’

  Dulcie was about to suggest this when Nick approached. “So you’re the expert sommelier!” he offered, somehow recognizing Dulcie’s unease. Nick introduced himself. “I’d love to get your opinion on some vintages. Do you have a few minutes?”

  Did he have a few minutes. The thought nearly made Samantha sneer, and she was not the sneering type. Jeremy had no time for anything but wine. She put her half-finished glass of champagne on a nearby table as if to protest.

  “Would you like a quick tour of the exhibit?” Dulcie asked quietly. She sensed Samantha’s annoyance. No, annoyance wasn’t the correct term, Dulcie realized. It was more of an attitude of unhappy resignation.

  Samantha had been staring at the floor. She looked up at Dulcie quickly. “Oh, thank you! I’d love to!”

  They walked quietly into the first gallery. Only a few people had wandered in to see the artworks, drifting quietly from painting to painting. Dulcie let Samantha drift for a few moments as well. It was the best way to take in an exhibit. Whatever Dulcie could tell her about each individual work wasn’t nearly as important as what each painting made Samantha think and feel. It was that very affect that Dulcie loved about art. It could resonate on so many different levels.

  Samantha paused in front of one of the paintings. It was a Henry Raeburn work from the 1790s. “The Skating Minister,” Dulcie said quietly. “That’s the unofficial title. He’s skating on a loch in Scotland,” she added.

  Samantha eyed it more closely. “He doesn’t look very happy. Then again, he doesn’t look unhappy, either.” She laughed nervously.

  “I think he just looks determined,” Dulcie said. “He isn’t wearing a very thick coat so I can’t imagine he’s very warm. Maybe he’s trying to get across that lake as quickly as possible?”

  Samantha nodded. “I know the feeling. Kind of.” She stepped back and looked around the room. “This is all so lovely. Serene. Really different from what I face each day.”

  “The weather isn’t serene?” Dulcie said with mock surprise.

  “Sometimes it is, but TV certainly isn’t,” Samantha explained. She quickly turned and faced Dulcie. “It was never what I wanted,” she blurted out. “I was going to go into research. I was going to observe and study and write papers and make elaborate computer models. I don’t know how this all happened.” She shook her head sadly.

  “Life,” Dulcie said. “It’s what happens when we’re least ready for it.” She hesitated for a moment. “Do you think that you still want those things?”

  Samantha nodded emphatically. “I really do, but I’m stuck. Jeremy is trying to move his career forward with the sommelier credentials. Until that happens, I’m the breadwinner of the family,” she nearly growled. “I agreed to it, but I didn’t think it would take this long. I didn’t think he would ignore everything else.”

  ‘And everyone?’ thought Dulcie. She knew it had to be difficult, to put your own dreams on hold for someone else’s. Then, to have your efforts unappreciated, which seemed to be the case here. That would make anyone bitter, at least temporarily.

  She decided to change the subject. “What’s the focus of your research, when you get back to it?” she asked.

  Samantha brightened. “It’s part of this,” she gestured around her. “There were actually three cold periods in the Little Ice Age. They started in 1650, 1770, and 1850. I’m researching the last one. Or I hope to be, anyway.”

  “Interesting. So, cutting to the chase as I always do, what caused it?”

  Samantha shook her head. “We don’t really know but there are several strong theories. The one I’m working on involves the North Atlantic Oscillation. It’s an air current that’s considered either positive or negative. When it’s negative, cold arctic air from Russia filters over Northern Europe toward the Mediterranean. When I get back to my research, I want to set up various computer models to test some ideas I have.” Samantha spoke quickly but with the smooth authority of someone who knew, and enjoyed, her subject very well.

  ‘She really is living the wrong life right now,’ Dulcie thought. “It’s great to meet someone who loves their work as much as I do,” she observed aloud.

  They continued around the room then approached the doorway again. The crowd had grown since they had been in the gallery. Both women hesitated for a moment, looking into the next room.

  Samantha suddenly stiffened. Dulcie looked sideways at her. Samantha’s face was gray and her mouth had fallen open slightly. Dulcie touched her arm. “Samantha? Are you all right?” She jumped at Dulcie’s touch and swallowed hard. Looking at the floor, Samantha inhaled deeply, as though she couldn’t get enough air to breathe. “Do you want to sit down?” Dulcie asked. Samantha nodded and they retreated to a bench back in the gallery.

  “What’s wrong?” Dulcie questioned. “You saw a ghost, I think!”

  Samantha gulped again. “Sort of. It’s a long story. I just, well, I saw someone that I didn’t want to see again. Ever. I don’t know why he’d be here.”

  “Who is it? I know everyone on the guest list. Maybe I can help?”

  Samantha took another deep breath. “Patrick Spratt,” she replied flatly.

  Dulcie thought for a moment. “He and his uncle were last-minute additions,” she said. “Geoffrey Spratt has been a very big donor to the museum over the years. The whole Spratt family has. Evidently he learned about the wine tasting because he made the requested donation for him and his nephew Patrick to attend. They’ll be up in the boardroom with the others a bit later.” She looked intently at Samantha. “Will that be a problem for you? I know Jeremy is taking part, but you don’t need to be there if…”

  “I won’t let him intimidate me!” Samantha snapped.

  ‘Whew! Bit of history there!’ Dulcie thought. “I understand,” she said aloud. “Do what you’re most comfortable with. I need to go back out there,” she added while standing. “Stay in here where it’s more quiet for as long as you like, though.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be fine,” Samantha replied. “I just need to compose myself. I’ll be out in a moment.”

  Dulcie nodded and left.

  As she walked back into the main hall she checked her watch. Fifteen minutes until the tasting. Only a few of the guests would be participating. Dulcie wanted them to slip away as quietly as possible. She needed to circulate through the room, locate each one, and direct them upstairs to the boardroom.

  She began with Brendan, spotting him nearby. “Ah, Dulcie!” Brendan said as she approached. To Dulcie’s surprise, he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against has side. “Just talking about you, love!” he announced. His speech was slurred slightly.

  Dulcie tried to pull herself away without being too obvious. Nick was at her side instantly. “Trouble?” he whispered.

  Dulcie found herself feeling annoyed. First Samantha was affected by the mere presence of Patrick Spratt. Dulcie had no idea what the history was, but clearly he had some menacing hold over Samantha. Then Brendan treated Dulcie in what only could be described as a patronizing manner. And now Nick was swooping in as though she couldn’t handle things. “No, everything’s fine,” she barked. Nick stepped away slightly, taken aback.

  Brendan had just lifted another drink from the tray of a passing waiter. Dulcie had seen him drinking on many occasions in the past. He was always jovial, loud, the life of the party, especially as he continued to drink. However, that was not the atmosphere that Dulcie wanted or expected here. She took his arm, smiled at his companions, and said, “Do you mind if I drag this gentleman away for a moment?” They nodded, without missi
ng a beat in their conversation.

  Dulcie took Brendan’s drink and placed it on a table as they continued walking. She smiled but her voice was severe. “Brendan, no more. You have a very big event that’s about to happen. Let’s stay clear, shall we?”

  He just grinned.

  “Wait here,” she said. She waived to Jeremy who joined them. “I’m going to take you upstairs, then find the participants. Can you two make sure everything is ready? I think Rachel is up there now.” She marched them quickly upstairs, then came back down. Nick was waiting at the landing.

  “Anything wrong?” he asked. “Can I help?”

  Dulcie sighed. She’d been harsh, and it wasn’t necessarily his fault. She was just annoyed with men in general at the moment. They seemed to be either intimidating or rescuing, as though their sole purpose was to play the King or the Knight in Shining Armor. “Yes, you can. Could you go up to the board room and keep an eye on things? Rachel is in charge until I get there. And bring Adam, too? For some reason, I feel as though we’re spinning a bit out of control here.” She quelled her feelings regarding the Knight in Shining Armor. After all, she didn’t think Rachel could strong-arm a tipsy Brendan if that’s what was required. For that matter, she wasn’t even sure Nick could. Johnson’s bulk, although slightly reduced, might be needed.

  “Will do,” he said over his shoulder, already locating Johnson who was finishing his second plate of shrimp.

  Dulcie scanned the room. Geoffrey Spratt was nearby talking with his nephew and three others who had donated for the tasting. She glided in beside Geoffrey, politely interrupted, and directed them upstairs. ‘Good,’ she sighed. ‘Only a few more to go.’

  Next she found Samantha. “Are you feeling up to this, or do you want to pass?” Dulcie asked quietly. “I’ve just sent Patrick and his uncle upstairs.”

  Samantha blinked several times, but then straightened her shoulders. “No, I’m up to it. I should be supportive of my husband, right? I mean, that’s what a good wife would do.” Sarcasm had edged into her voice.

  Dulcie chose to ignore it. She didn’t think Samantha had intended for her to hear it. Actually, she didn’t think Samantha realized it was there. “I’ll be going in last after I’ve rounded up everyone. Want to slip in with me? It’ll take me about five more minutes.”

  Samantha nodded. “I’ll watch for you. Thanks.”

  In fewer than five minutes Dulcie had sent the last of the elite group upstairs to the boardroom. Samantha was already beside her. “Thank you, again. I’m in a difficult situation. You have no idea how much this helps!” Samantha admitted.

  Dulcie was curious but had no time to ask for the whole story. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear it anyway. Everyone had a story; there was something unsavory in everyone’s past.

  They entered the boardroom. The heavy oak tables had been rearranged to allow people to stand rather than sit as they would at a meeting. Only one table remained at the center of the room. Rachel was standing at the end of it with Jeremy on one side of her and Brendan on the other. Dulcie noted that Nick and Johnson had flanked them as well but were back several paces. She nearly giggled thinking that they almost looked like Secret Service agents keeping a watchful eye on everyone.

  Samantha quickly found Jeremy and stood slightly behind him. She was relieved to see that Patrick was on the opposite side of the room.

  Dulcie joined Rachel.

  “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight!” Dulcie said loudly, gaining the group’s attention. The room fell silent. “And thank you for your more than generous donations. Winter is a difficult time in Maine, as you all know! Museum attendance is always low this time of year, so I’m very pleased to provide the motivation to bring everyone out on a cold night.” Several people chuckled and one responded with a hearty “Hear Hear!”

  Dulcie smiled and continued. “We are grateful to a new friend of the museum, Mr. Brendan MacArthur, for donating such a valuable gift and giving us the opportunity to share this experience,” she turned to Brendan. “Could you tell us about how you found this wine?” she asked. She prayed that he wouldn’t elaborate too much.

  “Aye! I would be happy to! And let me add my hearty thanks to everyone who joins me in raising a glass! You know, we Scotsmen rarely have the opportunity to drink,” he added with mock despair. The entire room laughed.

  Brendan continued for several moments describing the research to determine the approximate location of the wreck, then the dives he had done to finally locate it. “There are many interesting artifacts, but before you is the most interesting I believe.” He pointed to the bottle of wine on the table. “There are several bottles of this lovely Château Lafite Rothschild that have been waiting for us for well over a century. The rest will be auctioned in a few weeks, but this bottle my friends, this bottle is ours!” He waved his hands emphatically across the table, dangerous close to the bottle and the row of glasses. Dulcie inhaled sharply and put her hand on Brendan’s arm.

  “Thank so much, Mr. MacArthur! Next, we have another special guest, Mr. Jeremy Plunkett.” Dulcie nearly hauled Brendan backwards and gestured for Jeremy to step forward. “Mr. Plunkett will be taking the Master Sommelier exam in several weeks. This honor is rare and is only available to a very few, by invitation.” She turned to him. “Jeremy, can you tell us a little about this vintage, then give us your expert opinion?”

  Jeremy stepped forward. This was a defining moment for him. The people in this room were wealthy, influential. If he made an impression, it could lead to much greater things. He picked up the bottle, decrepit looking after years underwater. “It looks quite ugly now, doesn’t it?” Low laughter rippled throughout he group. “This wine was from a difficult year. Winters had been cold leading up to it, and France had been suffering hugely from a great wine blight caused by a tiny aphid. Half of the grapes had been destroyed. We are lucky to have this wine in front of us because it is a survivor for many reasons. First, the grapes that were used survived the blight. Second, it survived the crossing of the Atlantic. And third, it survived a shipwreck and remained well cared for at the bottom of the ocean. The ocean actually provides an excellent environment for aging wine. It’s the right temperature, can oscillate the bottle gently and, in some cases, a bit of saltwater can reach the wine through osmosis and actually help to balance the flavors. So, speaking of flavors and without further ado,” he glanced at Dulcie.

  Brendan was supposed to pour the wine but she wasn’t taking any chances. She quickly nodded and Jeremy expertly poured a small amount into a glass. He held it up to the light and began describing its color, then placed it under his nose and inhaled, describing the scents. Finally, he drank. His mouth went through several contortions that Dulcie knew were typical of a professional wine taster. The group in the room was so silent that they could hear the liquid swishing around in Jeremy’s mouth.

  At last he swallowed. And hesitated. Then he looked up at the group dramatically. “Surely one of the better Lafites I’ve tasted recently,” he said simply. That was all. He put down the glass.

  Brendan had expected more. “Good God Man! Is that all?” he boomed. The room stared at Jeremy.

  Dulcie jumped forward. “Ultimately, Jeremy is a man of few words,” she smiled winningly to cover her unease. “His endorsement is all that we need!” she exclaimed. “Shall we all try?” She began pouring small amounts into the little glasses and the waiter distributed them. Some guests took tiny sips at first while others downed the entire glass in one gulp. They all nodded and smiled as they talked excitedly. This was a moment for them to savor in many ways. Several asked for more. Dulcie heard Brendan say, “You can have more certainly! Just get in touch with me for the auction details! Then you can have the lot of it!”

  Dulcie cringed. She had seen Dan slip into the room as Jeremy was carrying out the official tasting. He was watching Brendan. As if reading Dulcie’s mind, he immediately went to Brendan’s side, distracted him and led him toward the door.
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  Samantha was standing just inside the doorway. Brendan now sidled up to her. “Ah, this is a bonnie lassie now, is she not?” Samantha side stepped along the wall to avoid Brendan’s reach. Dan continued to steer him out the door.

  “This is fun,” Rachel quipped from behind Dulcie.

  “I’m holding my breath Rachel. We need to get everyone back downstairs. I feel as though a disaster is waiting to…,” she was interrupted by a screech.

  “Get away from me! Who do you think you are? First you drop me from your life, then you’re stalking me?” Samantha was nearly screaming at Patrick Spratt. Patrick’s face was bright red. “I’ve seen you outside my apartment, on the street, you creep! Don’t deny it!” she added.

  Patrick didn’t know what to do. He was embarrassed beyond anything he had ever experienced. The entire room now stared at him.

  Uncle Geoffrey began to laugh heartily. “Leave it to these young ones to provide a bit of unscheduled entertainment! We all know how celebrities love the limelight. Any limelight!” He jutted his chin in Samantha’s direction.

  Samantha was now speechless. Her anger extended form Jeremy to Patrick to his Uncle Geoffrey to Brendan…. She looked over at Jeremy who hung back in the room. ‘No words of support. No acknowledgement that I’m his wife!’

  “Wow, you were right!” Dulcie heard Rachel whisper. Dan and Brendan had stopped in the doorway and stood there, blocking the exit. Dulcie now walked toward them, forcing them to move. Several others quietly slipped out. Dulcie saw Nick move forward and begin talking to some of the others about the wine as he artfully guided them toward the door.

  Everyone had finally filtered back downstairs except for Samantha and Jeremy. “Why didn’t you defend me?” she spat at him. “You let me stand there and be humiliated!”

  Dulcie stood outside the room, unsure what she should do. They clearly didn’t know she was there.

  “I’m sick of our lives revolving around your career! I’m sick of the talk about wine all the time!” Samantha continued. “I’m sick of you!”