Champagne Cheers

by Jules Dixon

  “Then let me give you a life vest. Tell me what’s going on and maybe we can figure it out together.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too late. I might as well put a ‘For Sale’ sign on the highway to let the vultures swoop in.”

  Whatever the problem, I’d never met one I couldn’t overcome with some ingenuity and a little fancy footwork … or paperwork.

  “Financial?”

  “Eighty thousand dollars worth of balloon loan, and the balloon popped last week.”

  That was a chunk of money, but as my father reiterated over and over—options always existed.

  “Are you still interested in an investor?” I asked slowly and calmly.

  His head flipped to me. “I won’t be bought for the night to satisfy your needs and my bottom line.”

  I slid back from him, my body chilled by his words. “I wasn’t insinuating… ” I stilled. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” He stilled as well. “Shit!”

  Silence. If Jürgen had done what he was asked, there should be plenty of gas to run the generator for hours, and yet, after less than one, the low hum had ceased.

  We both grabbed coats and gloves on our way out the door.

  Outside, the machine hissed with dropping snowflakes landing on the exhaust. Janek turned the key.

  Nothing.

  I checked the gas. Low, but enough.

  “I’m not the one that works on the equipment.” Janek’s face paled.

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  “The temps in that barrel have to be dropping. The blend’s finished without that jacket.” He leaned back against the building. Defeat marred a man’s looks, but on him, it tore my heart open. He pushed off the metal shed. “Just leave it. It’s done. I’ll go call Jürgen and let him know what’s going on.”

  I watched him walk away. He might not have hope, but I did. After all, New Year’s Eve was the time for changes and having wishes come true. And right now, I stared at both—a passion for someone and something. Janek and wine, they went together in my head.

  I’d rarely thought about love. That felt weird to think, but it was true. I had friends and family who cared for me and I cared for them, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said those three special words. I rarely heard them. They were the unspoken secret in my family. My father certainly never said the words. After a nasty divorce, my mother moved back to Italy. She didn’t abandon me; she saved herself. I understood her reasoning. I saw her once a year and she called on special occasions, but the words seemed rehearsed even from her. I craved to hear the sentiment flowing at the most unexpected time with an ache of honesty behind them. They would never come from my father. And the more I thought about what had happened today, I realized his approval of my performance wasn’t going to make me happy either. I needed more.

  I kneeled down to examine the generator. I’d fixed a couple scooters in Italy with a cousin, and I was kind of handy in high school helping a friend fix junk that his dad had collected and then resold. My father was always clear. “You need to earn your own way.” So, I did. Creatively.

  I checked the simpler things I thought it could be—dirty spark plugs, fuel line clog, dust or debris—but those didn’t fix the problem. I opened the gas tank, and realized the level was too low for being filled recently. Gasoline had ethanol. Old ethanol gummed all kinds of small engines up. My fingers paled in the sub-zero temps, but I ignored the pain, found a screwdriver and crescent wrench and started taking the machine apart. When I had a few parts off, I went inside the fermentation building, found some line sanitizer and a degreasing cleaner for the fermenting system. They weren’t ideal, but they’d have to do.

  Working slowly with my phone as a flashlight balanced precariously in my scarf, I took apart, cleaned, and restored the carburetor. I didn’t notice any leftover pieces, so that was good. I stuffed my phone back into my pants pocket, pulled my scarf tight around my neck, and headed back out. The snow had slowed, but the wind had picked up.

  We’ll need to get those Icewine grapes off the vines in the next day to be pressed.

  We? I smiled. I wanted to help him. I didn’t want to go home when I was with Janek. I wanted to stay here. I’d always known that there was family a person was born into and then there was the family that comes into a life and makes a person whole.

  The door on the house closed with a clunk.

  “Why are you still out here? Come inside, Matteo. It’s not worth…” He stared at what I was doing.

  I put the last screw back in and filled the tank with new gas from a container in the garage. “Fingers crossed.” I primed the engine, turned the key and a puff of smoke darkened the air.

  “You fixed it?”

  I leaned close to him, away from hum of the engine. “Seems to be running, right?”

  “Even sounds better than it did before.”

  “I think it was gummed up with old gas.”

  “Jürgen,” he said with an annoyed shake of his head. “Let’s go inside.”

  “No, let’s go check the vats and make sure they’re warming.”

  “But you’re freezing.”

  I’d passed over into the phase where I wasn’t feeling much of anything anymore.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  We stepped into the fermentation building and the lights lit up on the control panel for the vat.

  I wasn’t sure how this was really going to help him, but I hoped it did.

  He turned in front of me. “Thank you, Matteo. This wine is our last hope to get an investor to help us save the vineyard.”

  “This and the Icewine?”

  “As long as I can get the grapes off the vines in the next forty-eight hours, we should have a great harvest to entice someone to make an investment.”

  “I … I’d like to…” My breathing started to change. The sides of my vision blurred and Janek stood in the middle of a tunnel. I shook my head trying to clear the fuzz.

  “Matteo?” His glove covered hands slipped under my arms. “Hey, hold on. Let me get you inside. Matteo?”

  The world seemed grey and hazy. “I’m still here, but yeah, let’s go inside.”

  Chapter 8- Janek

  I helped Matteo into the house. The wind caught the door and slammed it back against the brick. I ignored it. He needed to get warm.

  We made it to the den and I laid him on the sofa in front of the fireplace, wrapping him in a quilt my mother had made and a slipping small pillow under his head. I stoked the embers and added the largest log available. We’d be living in a sauna soon.

  I stared at him from my place in the leather club chair.

  Soon the shivers stopped and he breathed deeply, his face pinking until his cheeks were rosy red. “Janek.”

  I didn’t care how he said my name now, just that he said it. “Hey, there.” I moved from the chair to kneel in front of the sofa.

  I grabbed a cashmere blanket, adding it to the first. I brushed my hand through his hair, and he sighed.

  Soon the fire was crackling and popping and it sounded romantic as hell, but I didn’t know what to say or do. He’d stepped up for the Three Cheers Winery. He didn’t have to do that. For as spoiled as he came off originally, under all that luxury wool and high-priced silk, existed a caring and honest man.

  I took a seat on the sofa at his feet. He moved to sit up, his body next to mine. I wrapped an arm around him and soon, he turned and leaned against my chest, his cheek laying against my shoulder. The heat warmed our faces and I wondered which of us would be the first to break the silence.

  “Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

  “I think so. Didn’t realize I’d gotten so cold. My coat isn’t exactly tundra worthy.” He turned his head to look up at me. Those brown eyes surged into me with his power, but also his hope. He was nothing I’d ever envisioned for my life partner. Matteo Bonacci was a blueprint for a life that would take this vineyard to success while giving me someone to care for and
receiving the same in return.

  “Thank you.” I bit my bottom lip and the pain tamped my emotions.

  “For what?”

  “Getting the generator going. Saving the wine. Being here with me. It’s a long list.”

  His face brightened and he snuggled in closer. “I think I’d like to be here with you for a while, if you’re okay with that.”

  “I’m definitely okay with that.”

  “I’m sorry for stepping on your feet with the loan. I’ll let you—”

  “Please help me.”

  His hands clasped my face and he pulled me down for a soft, lingering kiss.

  “I’ll help you however I can, Janek.”

  “Okay, then you can start by saying my name right.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re kidding right?”

  A deep chuckle bounced up from my gut. “Nope. It’s Jan—like yawn, and ek—like heck. Without the ‘heh’ part.”

  He tried it a couple of times and each time he got better and better and it sounded sweeter and sweeter.

  “It’s almost midnight. You interested in a little champagne toast?”

  He glanced at the clock. “Three, two, one … Happy New Year, Janek. May this year be the one where all your dreams come true.”

  I had a feeling they would, and I kissed him to start out with a win.

  chapter 9- Matteo

  We’d picked the frozen grapes, dumped them in the skinner, and now they were being pressed until the liquid gold dripped from their hard orbs. Teardrops of pure sweet essence promised to turn this vineyard’s year into a booming one.

  “So, you must be Matteo?” a voice reminiscent of Janek’s proclaimed behind me.

  I turned and sure enough, a man about Janek’s height but thinner—and exhibiting his same smile—stood about five feet away with another man beside him, holding his hand. “And you must be Jürgen and you’re David.”

  We shook hands.

  “How do you like Villa de Becker?” David asked.

  “The house is gorgeous, and I couldn’t ask for better company.” I smiled as Janek rounded the corner and his eyes lit up seeing his brother and brother-in-law.

  “Jürgen. David. Welcome back. How was the trip?” They hugged and David kissed Janek’s cheek.

  Jürgen rubbed his stomach. “Ate too much, laid on the beach all day, and slept in every morning. It was the best trip ever.”

  David chuckled. “Ditto.”

  “How’s the harvest and processing going?” Jürgen asked.

  “Well, now that the blend is back on track, and maybe better than it was before, no thanks to you…” Janek glared at his brother. “The Icewine is coming along very well. Not sure what I would’ve done without Matteo to help harvest.”

  “My pleasure.”

  And it had been. We’d gotten to know each other better over the last three days. And nothing could’ve prepared me for the amount of love I held in my heart for this man. He was definitely the one I’d waited for.

  “Good to hear. If you need any help, I’ll be at home.” Jürgen backed toward the door and David gave a shake of his head.

  “Convenient,” Janek said with a shake of his head.

  “Hey, I need to recover from my vacation,” he called out as they left the production building.

  I’d never had a sibling, but I could imagine Jürgen becoming my brother, too. The family I’d never imagined was right here in this room. “Nice meeting you. Love to have dinner soon.”

  “Sounds great.” David waved on his way out.

  Mrs. Becker had decided to stay in Germany. Her father was holding strong and she’d gotten her New Year’s Eve wish for one moment of lucidity. She hoped for more, but that one had meant so much. I looked forward to meeting her someday.

  I watched Janek checking off on the production list, something we’d created together to keep the wine on track. We’d use this process to create an app and website for other vintners. Vineyards with multiple people responsible for various parts of the process would be thrilled with the invention.

  My father knew my truth now. He didn’t seem too surprised to learn I was gay. As I expected, he fired me for not coming through on the deals, missing the deadline, and probably standing him up for dinner. But as I stared at Janek, warm happiness crept through my chest. Being fired was the best gifts my father had ever given me. I’d been trying to be someone I wasn’t. I’d never fit in at Bonacci Investments. I fit in here.

  My father flew to Niagara-on-the-Falls yesterday and met Janek and insisted on making some major investments in the operation. Bonacci Investments paid off the balloon loan with a “negotiated” ten-year repayment note. His reasoning was, “Whoever puts up with his son is obviously a master at concession and should be rewarded.” I’d come to understand this was the way he communicated his care. He pretended it was all about business to keep from feeling and expressing his feelings. Alessio Bonacci was afraid to love. A little change had happened after seeing Janek caring for me the way I cared for him. Father didn’t say, “I love you” when he left, but he did say that he’d be back soon and that he was proud of me. I’d take it and like Mrs. Becker, I’d hope for more.

  I stared at Janek. He flashed those gorgeous blue eyes and my stomach crashed.

  So much had happened since we toasted in the New Year with each other. I understood where I was meant to be and what I was meant to be doing. All those plans I’d figured out before meeting him looked good on paper, but in the reality of life, the best-laid plans were a work-in-progress.

  “Want to eat out tonight? There’s this great Irish place in town. They make a great boxty.” Janek finished checking the pressings of the fruit.

  “Actually, any of that goulash left?”

  Janek chuckled. “You just love me for my mother’s goulash.” He stilled. We hadn’t made that commitment to each other. “I mean. I didn’t mean … I’m…”

  I pulled him to me for a long kiss to stop his rambling. “I love you, too, Janek.”

  “I couldn’t love you more, Matteo.”

  Epilogue

  Janek

  Every corner we turned Matteo’s eyes would widen. I loved his fascination. And I didn’t blame him. This place was pretty magical.

  We stood in the middle of the old town center of Braunschweig, Germany. On one corner the government building, on another a castle, and another a cathedral, the intersection was a blend of old and new, as evidenced by the honk of a car in the background.

  Mom had stayed in Germany taking care of Grandfather. He’d passed away two days before Easter. And now it was the first day of summer and I’d brought my boyfriend to see where I’d come from.

  Ina Becker, better known as my mother, acted the part of protective parent. I was her baby, and she was proving it. I couldn’t remember her doing the same with David, but then again, I did remember Jürgen complaining occasionally about her having some substantial opinions and not being afraid to express them.

  “Mrs. Becker, would you like to get some dinner?” Matteo asked while we walked toward the Schloss Arkaden, the mall where we’d parked.

  “Yes, Mr. Bonacci, danke.”

  They sounded like they were rehearsing a very boring play. Matteo and I’d discussed what was going on and he said he was being respectful and didn’t want her to like him only because he was my boyfriend. They were the two most important people in my life. They had to get along. I couldn’t imagine my life without either of them.

  Mom grabbed my arm, speaking in German, which I’d asked her not to do with Matteo there. “I need to go home to change into a nice dress before dinner.” She had great English and to me, this was passive aggressive behavior even if she played it off as a “when in Rome” situation.

  The temperature had risen during the day and would stick around for another few hours. I was ready for a long shower and to talk to Matteo in private.

  He’d insisted that we have our own place as he imagined Mom would want her
space, too. She hadn’t argued, which again was odd.

  “We’ll see you at the restaurant about seven, Mom.”

  “Later, my boys.”

  I stilled. That was the first time she’d used the inclusionary and affectionate term.

  Back at our rented flat, Matteo flopped onto the sofa. “I didn’t know there’d be so much walking.”

  I laughed. “Lazy American.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not lazy. I’m normal. My phone app says we walked 6.7 miles today. That’s half of a half-marathon, that’s a lot of walking.”

  Being a fixture in my life had come naturally to Matteo, or at least it seemed it had. I, on the other hand, had struggled with giving up some of my schedule—my routine—my life. I had someone else to think about, so my mind was on him often and I’d found myself wondering what he was doing more often than not. He’d slipped easily into the position of finance and marketing officer. I loved the campaign he’d set up for later this summer. He had a real knack for finding the right markets and talking to other marketing company reps.

  He’d even started taking care of the bed and breakfast duties, hiring a manager for while mother was away. The place was run with precision and I assumed the bed sheets folded themselves because insisted they could do it. He was a cheerleader, but without the pompoms. His enthusiasm for the wine business was contagious.

  And that brought me to … talking to my mother. Technically, she owned a portion of the house in Niagra-on-the-Lake, too, and I didn’t know what she was going to do now. Come back to Canada? Move into her own place there? Stay here with family and friends?

  I knew of one person who wanted her to return. Lucky. He’d asked how she was all the time. Even though, after paying the cell phone bill, I knew they talked frequently. More than two teenagers. He’d thought about coming over with us, but this was the start of his busy season. He also did tours of the vineyards in the area, and that ramped up as well.

  I plopped onto the grey fabric next to Matteo. “I think she was friendlier today.”