Mathew walked around his acreage with Fred, making sure the second year plants continued to grow trained and tied, nipping off any undesired shoots as they went. After the leaves turned and fell, he would schedule a small crew for cleanup and the last cultivation for the season. Come November they would prune according to the Guyot system of cane pruning they had elected to use. Fred vigilantly was keeping the grass between the rows mowed and the edges trimmed, recruiting Lenny for those two jobs as well.
As they turned to go down the southwest border of the property, a cigarette stub lay tossed into the dirt at the end of a row of grapevines. He caught Fred by the arm and bent down to peer closer at the footprints. Someone stood here for some time, packing the earth solid under their feet. All around the soil fell loose and cultivated along the line of roots. He edged over to the verge, his eyes going up the rows to the distant back of Steve’s house. Even when he squatted down to be eye-level with the big grape leaves, the house stayed in sight. A person crouched here could do reconnaissance from a well-hidden position.
“More cigarettes?” Fred asked. “Walk perimeter?”
Mathew nodded, pulled out his cellphone and took a photo. Using a grape leaf to protect it, he pocketed the twisted butt, dark black with a gold filter, evidently a brand called Sobranie Black Russian. “Keep looking for more footprints where someone hovered. These are recent. We’ll eyeball the vines as we search.”
They found cigarette butts at three more spots, each giving different perspectives on Steve’s house. The intruder did not seem to care about keeping his snooping clandestine. Turkish Djarums and Sobranie Black Russians were not commonly smoked. When they walked past the tree house, a chair sat cockeyed where someone had scooted it across the decking for a clear view of the house at Spook Hills. The hairs prickled on the back of Mathew’s head.
These findings showed that the incident in August had not been a fluke. What did this person want to discover and who was he?
Chapter 10
“The man’s arrogance and greed astound me,” Rick shouted into the speakerphone at their attorney. “He wants Callie to recompense him for drying out, buy him a condo and give him an allowance for two years? He is crazy.”
Callie sat across from him, dumbfounded by John Henry’s demands, holding her face in her hands with her elbows resting on Rick’s desk. Her hair formed a dark, silken tent around her head.
“I don’t understand,” she said, raising her head and struggling not to scream about John Henry’s demands. “The University employed him, but he didn’t even give me enough money for our living expenses. I paid for our house, the maintenance and the taxes using my inheritance. Because of Susannah, I didn’t work.”
The attorney’s voice came on slow and even. “Your husband is claiming mental anguish made him seek solace in alcohol.”
“Bullshit. He browbeat my niece for years,” Rick said, his voice edged in bitterness. “He should be compensating her a substantial monthly stipend and child support for Susannah. He allowed Callie the bare minimum for food, clothing, and the house.”
“He cheated on me,” Callie said in a small voice.
“Do you have proof?”
“The FBI said he encountered his cousin at a place where they offer prostitutes and drugs. It was where his cousin accrued gambling and other debts with the gangsters who snatched Susannah.”
“Good, gives me a negotiating point. Callie, we can drag this out and put you in a potentially embarrassing position in court or negotiate a compromise.”
“I will not obligate myself to alimony,” Callie said, the firmness in her voice surprising her. She would no longer pander to her husband. “As you know, I received a good offer on the house the day it went on the market. The buyers want to move fast. It should close next month. I will realize some capital gains on it. Part of that can go to John Henry for a down payment on a condominium. I want the funds restricted to that use.”
“We can stipulate your constraint and establish an escrow account to manage any disbursements,” the attorney said.
“Start at $20,000. You can go as high as $40,000. The nine miserable years I agonized through with that man were enough. I want the misery dissolved quickly.”
“What about visiting rights?”
Callie hesitated out of embarrassment to speak of her concern in front of Rick. She took a deep breath, measuring her words carefully. “I am worried about Susannah staying with him without me. He can be belittling and outright nasty, but he never hurt her physically. Even though I don’t think he is into children, his tastes in sex verge on depraved.”
“Damn pervert. What does Susannah want?” Rick asked, his face contorting as he struggled to choke back his anger with John Henry.
“She’s all mixed up. She’s afraid to go back to San Francisco because of the kidnapping. One day we will help her face that fear but not yet,” Callie said. “Can we do phone calls only for six months to let her recover? After that spending time with her father should be up to her unless he fails to stay sober, then no time with her at all. I want him to fund Susannah’s education. He must put $10,000 a year into an interest-bearing escrow account for her from now until she is 21.”
“That is it. We will not pay one more cent to that greedy bastard,” Rick said in a voice demanding no conciliation.
They ended the call after thanking their lawyer. Rick said, “Your proposal is better than John Henry deserves.”
“Now that I left John Henry, I want the divorce over. I want to start again.”
Rick nodded and said, “I felt the same way about my first wife. While she lacked John Henry’s greediness, conceit or wickedness, she always mucked around until she found the negatives in every situation, casting gloom around her like so much stinking manure. When Sassy danced into my life, I realized my humdrum existence could become fun. I gave a more generous settlement than necessary to end my first marriage.”
Callie had to smile at how her Uncle Rick characterized his two very different marriages where one wife cast despair and one radiated light. She barely remembered his first wife and had seen her only briefly once or twice after their divorce.
“Even so, I don’t think my first wife ever forgave me for moving on, building my businesses and making a dream life with Sassy,” Rick said. “I never regretted paying her that money or supporting my kids. Doing the right thing will let you live more contentedly, even if you find the terms irksome at first.”
“I don’t want my work here or what you offered me disclosed to John Henry,” Callie said.
“Me either. We’ll keep our partnership between you, me, Sassy and our lawyer. I will reinforce this point with him.”
She smiled at her uncle and grabbed her car keys to leave. “After I pick up Susannah from school, together we’ll go over the bins and equipment for harvest. Did those new vine cutters come in?”
“Box is in the garage. Better oil up the old ones too.”
“I’m glad you’re letting Mathew and Steve learn from us. Working here on harvest is the best way.”
“Least we can do,” Rick said as he left his office with Callie. “We owe them big time for bringing Susannah back. Mathew risked his life when he went to rescue her. Steve used his considerable influence to work out the logistics with the FBI.”
“Mathew is the inverse of John Henry – brave, kind and a man of action without any egotistical fanfare,” Callie said, her voice becoming a little dreamy.
“Odd dudes in their way, Mathew and Steve. Worthy men, each of them. Men who no one can buy, bully or persuade to act against their principles.”
“Like you.”
Rick squared his shoulders at her faith in him. Her memories of her parents were becoming increasingly distant. She sometimes wondered how like her father Uncle Rick was. In her memory, they were very alike and very close as brothers. As an only child, she used to wish for siblings. Now she would have to hope that Susannah would one day have a younger sister or brother.<
br />
Mathew clicked off his phone after his mother called him, asking him to lunch when she traveled through Portland the next day. As usual she left him mystified and with a sense of inadequacy that he had somehow botched her expectations for a son. She had pushed him away even as a child, or she had absented herself from his life when she traveled to sponsor benevolent programs in various parts of the world.
Inclined to be stiff and a little distant, his father had seemed puzzled by how to relate to his son. As Mathew grew up, his Dad tried to be supportive, but he always traveled many weeks each year looking after his business empire, a pace he continued until he died of cancer three years ago
His mother had held herself away from him, detached and cold. As he grew older, Mathew was finding he missed his dad and wished he still lived to talk with him the way he did with Steve.
The following morning Mathew left a little early after dressing with care in what he called dressy casual – jeans, an open-necked tattersall shirt and a navy linen blazer worn with buffed mahogany loafers. He drove the half hour up to the city and parked near the Heathman Hotel where he reserved a table. While he waited, he sipped a micro-brewed pale ale, impatient to hear if his mother wanted to spend time with him or if she was undertaking a mere duty visit. Despite her habitual pushing him away, the little lonesome boy inside him still needed her love.
Shortly after noon, his mother walked in, tall and willowy with her long auburn hair swept up under a hat. She appeared marvelously chic even when casually attired. Now in her mid-sixties, she remained an attractive woman, even if too severely dressed and thin to be called beautiful. She suffered through a kiss on the cheek from him, dashing his hope of her wanting to see him. He never remembered her hugging him or giving him even a peck on the forehead. Even as a boy the most regard he might receive from her was a hand placed on his shoulder which she quickly whisked away.
“Mother, as good to see you as ever,” Mathew said, pulling out a chair for her. Even though she remained cold to him, the compliment was sincere. He did love her.
She made no reply as she sat down opposite him and took off her sunglasses. She skimmed the menu and signaled for the waiter, cutting off Mathew’s attempt at hospitality.
“Bottle of sparkling mineral water, chilled, no ice. You may bring me the Caesar salad with grilled prawns. Vinaigrette on the side and cheese on the side.”
Mathew ordered the more ample turkey club with sweet potato fries. He asked about her trip where she fostered an effort to convey more water to African farmers, and he inquired about her home in the Dolomites. She answered his questions sparingly before asking about his life on the vineyard.
“Mathew when you left the FBI, I hoped you would apply your father’s fortune to impactful measures,” she said. “With people starving all over the world, you could do so much good with his assets.”
“I am working on an idea to help Hispanic immigrants better assimilate into the American culture.”
“Why?”
“We have a young fellow born in Mexico working for us. His name is Fred. He is not yet twenty-one, but he is bright and a fast learner. Already he can supervise work crews on the vineyard better than most veterans. Fred really should go to college and get a degree. His father worked for us for a time on the work crew building Steve’s house. His name is Federico. He seems really bright too, but his English language skills are limited. I think if he had been able to learn English when he first moved here, he could run his own business or be a foreman in construction.
“Most of our work crews are Hispanic and less than half of them speak English. I have been learning Spanish, but I often have to rely on Fred to translate for me.
“To earn a decent income, the Hispanic workers need to break away from menial labor. Their children need to attend school on a regular schedule, which is hard when they are migrants. I want to give them the chance to achieve their dreams of a better life.”
She flapped her hand dismissively. “We will never agree on what is meaningful, not when people are starving and dying of dreadful diseases. However right now I want to talk with you about another topic.”
“Is something wrong?” Mathew asked. Her demeanor was different, and he noticed that she looked more stressed than usual.
“The underpinnings of our relationship are false. I am about to explain why.” She stopped speaking and took a sparing drink of water. “I know I never gave what you required from a mother. You wanted more from me than I could find in myself to give. You should be aware of why.
“For several years after we married, your father and I tried to conceive children, only to suffer through the disappointment of a series of miscarriages. I went to specialists. I underwent surgeries. Nothing made a difference.”
Mathew frowned, wondering if his parents adopted him even though he resembled his father.
“In our fourth summer, my sister Alisha stayed a week with us.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes. Alisha styled herself as a free spirit. She is the proverbial nymphomaniac. Foolish of me to let her stay in our house even for a week. She seduced your father then taunted me with her conquest. One night she flounced into my bedroom as I was dressing for dinner and flaunted her conquest. We argued and I confronted your father. At my insistence and with some bribery from your father, Alisha departed for the Far East where she has made her home ever since. While I hate to say it, your father tried but failed to rein in his lust for her. By expanding his business to Singapore and Hong Kong, he found reasons to travel there for trysts with her. I believe their affair lasted until he passed away.”
“Why did you stay with him?”
“I didn’t. I left him and went to work in Kenya. Later we made a deal. If he backed my causes, I would say nothing about Alisha. Your father enjoyed success as a shrewd and prosperous businessman. He accumulated plenty of money to provide for me as I worked to improve the world, and for Alisha as she did nothing except enjoy hedonistic pleasures.”
Mathew sat absorbing this news. Why was his mother telling him this now after his father had been dead for years? “How do I fit into this?”
“Nine months after their initial liaison, Alisha delivered a baby boy. Your father flew out for her confinement. He came back with you and a nurse he had hired.”
Mathew slumped back in his chair, stunned by her news. “With me? What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. I am your son.”
“Now we come to the other part of my agreement with your father. I pretended to be your mother, even though you belonged to my sister. Mathew, I wanted to love you, but years of trying for my child made the sight of you remind me of my failure. I went abroad as much as possible and kept you at a distance when I did come home. You hungered for affection, while I could not give any to you.”
For the second time in his life, real sorrow invaded his mother’s face. The first time was when his father died. Her face tended to be still and composed. He saw regret too and in spite of a lifetime of rejection, he reached out and took her hand. For once she let him hold it. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.
What she revealed clarified so much he had never understood, including her detachment from him, how fond his father was of him and his dad’s frequent trips to Asia.
“Where is she? Where is Alisha?”
“After what happened, I do not, could not, keep in contact with her.”
“Unless you insist that I do not seek her out, I want to meet her, if she’ll agree to see me.”
“Your father’s attorney who administers the trust funds will be able to reach her. He established a disbursement account for Alisha as soon as your father heard of her pregnancy with you.”
“No other children?”
“I don’t think so. Evidently complications arose during her delivery. As far as I know, you are her only child.”
Their food arrived. His mother began nibbling at her salad, although she showed little appetite. He picked up part of t
he sandwich and ate in silence, his mind on his mother’s revelation.
“Regardless of this news, I will always think of you as my mother.”
“You must be shocked or hurt by my deception.”
Mathew took a sip of ale, considering what he felt. To his surprise, he did not feel hurt or angry. “I am surprised, shocked really. Although looking back on it, something was always off. I thought it was me – I assumed I wasn’t the son you wanted. I never felt like I was good enough.
“Thinking about it now. I can see that you and Dad tried to make the best out of an awkward situation. Yes, you have always been somewhat distant from me, but I never felt unloved, just not loved as much as I needed.
“I am so sorry. Selfish of me the way I behaved. Do you still want to see me?” Mathew was more shocked by her question than he was by her news. As far as he was concerned, she was his mother. I am both your nephew and your son. Of course I want to continue seeing you. Did you adopt me?”
“No. I am embarrassed to say it, but we faked your birth certificate. You can change the mother’s name on it if you want.”
“You remain my mother as far as I am concerned,” he said although afraid of being rebuffed for still loving her as his true mother.
“You are a kind-hearted man, but then you were a sweet little boy. You should know that I always loved your father. My resentment over Alisha endured a long time because my heart and my pride each ached. Not being able to carry a baby the full term eroded my sense of self-worth.”
“You never attempted to have a child again?” Mathew asked as he tucked into his sweet potato fries, his appetite remaining despite his mother’s news.
“We reconciled and endeavored to produce a child. He said he gave up Alisha during that time. Following two more prenatal losses, I reached my late thirties, and I decided we should end our struggles. The emotional trauma became too much with my hopes and his hopes raised each time, only to be dashed.”
“All those years and so much I never grasped.”
New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) Page 10