A Case of Syrah, Syrah

by Nancy J. Parra

Holly sent me a look.

  “Fine, I’ll check with Laura first,” I muttered. “Say, why don’t you come home with me? I’m sure Aunt Jemma would love to see you.”

  “No thanks,” Holly said. “I’m actually meeting my date at the restaurant on the corner.”

  “Oh, right, you have a date. Awkward questions. Strange silences where you search for something to say. I’m glad it’s you and not me. Have fun,” I said.

  “It’s not always like that,” Holly teased me. “You never know when you might click with someone.”

  “Well, let me know how you click,” I said and gave her a hug.

  “Oh, I will. I’m hoping this is the best yet.”

  I laughed. “You are always so positive.”

  She waggled her eyebrows at me. “You never know. This could be the one.”

  “I hope so for your sake,” I said. As for me, I was still nursing a broken heart, and dating was the last thing on my mind.

  Chapter 3

  The next day, there was still no news on Millie’s owners, so with Laura’s permission, I packed a harnessed and leashed Millie into the back of the van and took her with me on my first tour.

  “Ladies and gentleman.” I stood inside the front of the van and addressed my seated tour members. We’d arrived at Quarryhill. There were picnic tables shaded by large bay trees to the left of us and the gift shop down a short path to the right. “Quarryhill is our first stop of the day. These botanical gardens boast of one of North America’s largest and most important collections of temperate-climate Asian plants. We will hike amid waterfalls, ponds, and photo-worthy views of Sonoma Valley, so have your cameras and phones handy. Today we will see many rare and endangered varieties of flowering Asian trees and shrubs.

  “Why stop at a botanical garden on a wine country tour? Well, this land was originally purchased for vineyards,” I said and gave them a moment to look around. “As we walk, you’ll see we are surrounded by vineyards. But due to the lovely old rock quarries that filled with water during the winter, creating a stream with ponds and waterfalls, the property owner, Jane Davenport Jansen, decided to turn twenty-five acres into these spectacular gardens. When we reach the highest summit, there’s a prayer tree and views that will astound you.

  “Your tour includes admission, so pack up your hats, sunscreen, and water bottles for a few hours of gentle hiking.” I could feel my excitement for the tour building. “When we come back down, I’ll have snacks and wine available. Then we’ll head to Sunset Winery, where we will taste Sunset wines and dine on their expansive lawns. Are there any questions before we go?”

  “Yes,” Laura called out. She had a frown on her face and looked at Millie. “I know I said she could come, but are you sure dogs are allowed in the gardens? Won’t she dig up important plants?”

  “I have special permission to bring Millie,” I said. “She’s a puppy, and I have promised that she won’t harm any plants or leave anything behind.” I looked at all seven expectant faces of my charges. “I’ve also promised that you would leave nothing behind, so please keep track of your things. Also, please don’t pick any ‘souvenirs.’ We’ll have time to visit the gift shop before we leave. You can get things there. Now are we ready?”

  “Yes,” the group sang out.

  “Let’s go.” I opened the van door. I had to pat myself on the back. The botanical gardens were a great idea for my concept.

  Laura was the first to step out. A bit of a control freak, she’d even told everyone where to sit in the van, ensuring that she was across from the driver’s seat. Next out was Laura’s husband, Dan. Dan was an older man, a new-age marketer by trade and the type of guy who would throw himself in front of a bus for Laura. I could never figure out why mean people had nice spouses. Then there was Amy Hampton, the general assistant; Sally Miles, the freelance human resources manager and yoga teacher; and finally Emma Summerton, Rashida Davis, and Juliet Emmerson, the three master yoga instructors who studied under Laura and, from what I understood, helped her teach her mastermind classes.

  Everyone was appropriately dressed in yoga pants, good hiking shoes, and T-shirts except Dan, who’d worn jean shorts and a T-shirt. I was kind of glad that he’d skipped the yoga pants.

  “Let’s get going,” Laura said. “Everyone take three deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth, making a ‘shhhh’ sound.” I watched in amazement as everyone complied, closing their eyes and taking the required deep breaths—even Dan, who seemed smitten by Laura. “Good. Now remember to walk mindfully through the gardens.”

  “Don’t forget to take plenty of pictures,” I said. “You can share them on your website and social media.”

  We started up the trail and settled into small groups, with Laura and Dan leading the way. I walked beside Sally, who appeared to be in her early sixties. “Is she always this intense?” I asked. “I mean, I take her class, and she is not what I imagine a yoga instructor to be.”

  “You mean all soft and light?” Sally laughed. “No, that’s not Laura. She knows she needs to work on her interactions with people. But you should see her teaching in her mastermind classes. There’s a reason she does so well. She loves her craft, and it shows when she’s instructing other yoga instructors.”

  “It’s strange. I always thought that yoga would make a person more . . . peaceful.”

  “Oh, it has,” Sally said. “You see, I knew Laura when she was a neonatal nurse. Her intensity was a hundred times what the Laura you see today is like.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. She couldn’t sustain a life that way. Eventually illness led her to yoga. Once she went into remission, she began to teach. Now her goal is to be the master mentor to many yoga teachers.”

  I tilted my head. “She is in remission? Was it cancer?”

  “Laura doesn’t talk about it, so I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, well, I guess she has a right to her privacy, but I still don’t understand. She’s a yoga teacher without a studio?”

  “Yes—well, yes and no,” Sally said. “Her specialty is mentoring yoga teachers on how to run a more productive yoga practice. She teaches envisioning goals, marketing practices, and in general how to take their small businesses to the next level.”

  “Huh,” I said. “And you work for her?”

  “I’m a human resources consultant and a yoga teacher. So I work for Laura and many of her clients to help them hire the right people and get the right benefits in place. Simply because you love yoga doesn’t mean you’re a good business person. We all need a little help now and then.”

  We stopped to ponder a huge brass art sculpture. I was getting a feel for the group. The three yoga teachers hung out together. Sally and Amy were close, while Dan and Laura kept themselves aloof from the group.

  Millie enjoyed the walk along the trails, sniffing strange smells and playing in the leaves. It was a perfect autumn day—the air was a clear, and the sky was a bright cloudless blue. The trail wound up hills and through trees. On our way to the prayer tree, we stopped at a rare magnolia and saw a stone amphitheater before checking out another sculpture. This one had a bell.

  I had done my research and gave a pretty good guided tour. In the hills with the sun beating down on us, it got warm quickly, and we stopped often for water and to rest. I would point out interesting exotic trees and shrubs while Laura would continue to counsel them on breathing practice and mindfulness. All in all, I thought we worked well together.

  That was, until we started back down the trail from the prayer tree. Laura sought me out. “This tour is fine,” she said.

  “Thank you?” I wasn’t sure fine was a compliment or not. “It’s just started.”

  “I think I could help you do a better job.”

  “Excuse me?” The criticism stung. After all, it was my first tour, and I thought it was going well. It was hard to hear she didn’t agree. “Isn’t your thing yoga?”

  “Yes, but I know I can improve your busine
ss.”

  “Look.” I tried to quash my feelings of affront. “I don’t pretend to be a yoga expert, but I do know a thing about Sonoma.”

  “And I specialize in improving small businesses,” she said. “There are things you can do better.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll figure them out on my own,” I said. “Excuse me, but I need to check on the rest of the group.”

  I turned to find the stragglers. It was hard not to be insulted. This might be my first tour, but I knew as much or more about marketing for small business. Sheesh.

  I encouraged the stragglers to head back toward the picnic area. Laura sped up, and the group dispersed, each one going at their own pace based on their level of tiredness. I lost track of those in the front and made sure that Millie and I hung out with the ladies in the rear, ensuring that no one was left behind.

  Then Dan sought me out. “Taylor,” he said as he dropped behind the rest, “this has been a nice tour.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “The botanical gardens are one of my favorite places in the area. Have you been here before?”

  “No, but Rashida has,” Dan said and pointed toward the yoga teacher with thick black hair. “She was telling us about visiting the gardens with her sister from out of town. It does seem to be a nice setting to promote well-being and a team approach.”

  “Well, the team seems to have fallen into a natural divide.” I pointed out how everyone had broken into small groups that didn’t seem to interact.

  “We’re aware,” Dan said, his mouth a tight line, “but they’ll loosen up as the day goes on. Listen, Laura and I were talking about how you could improve your business.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve been studying marketing for small businesses for close to fifteen years, and Laura and I feel that you should consider taking our mastermind workshop. Invest your time and money with us, and we can greatly improve your business.”

  “I’m not a yoga teacher,” I said, slightly confused.

  “We want to branch out into other small businesses,” Dan said. “Your business seems ripe for our training.”

  I didn’t know if I was insulted or flattered. “I got my degree in marketing and advertising. I worked for Jacob, Epstein, and Bishop—San Francisco’s premier marketing agency—for five years. I think I know how to market my own small business.”

  “If you were so good at it, why leave and take up guiding tour groups through Sonoma?” He sounded smug.

  I stopped still and shook my head. “I left to take care of my aunt. She’s getting along in years and needed family to be near her.”

  “We all know you can work remotely,” he said pointedly. “Lots of people do.”

  “That might work for them, but I needed more time to help my aunt.”

  “So you started a small business,” he pointed out. “Sounds like you weren’t doing so well in San Francisco after all. Perhaps what you need is a refresher course in marketing. You know, something to revive your skills. Trust me when I say Laura can help.”

  I was flabbergasted. “I don’t think I need to explain myself to you, and I most certainly don’t need your or Laura’s help.”

  “She tells me you have issues showing up to class on time. You seem a little scattered. Look at your group. I’m certain a lesson—”

  “Thank you, but no,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tour group to round up.”

  I hurried past him and tried to swallow my feelings of insult and anger. As a tour guide, you had to be calm, happy, and entertaining at all times. Especially in front of difficult people. My upset must have shown because when I reached the ladies a few feet ahead of me, they had words of sympathy.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” Emma said.

  “Did you hear us?” I asked, embarrassed and confused.

  “He’s a bit loud and a bit of a zealot,” Rashida admitted. “We all follow Laura, but that doesn’t mean her marketing methods are right for all businesses.”

  “I don’t think he thought that through,” Juliet said. “When it comes to Laura, the man is blind.”

  “It’s fine,” I said as we stepped out into the clearing with the picnic tables, across from where my van was parked. “Everyone, why don’t you make a trip to the gift shop or use the facilities while I set out lunch?”

  “Can I help?” Amy asked. “I’m usually the coordinator of these things, so I’m used to being put to work.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and we went to the van. I opened the door, and Millie hopped inside to watch me rummage through the coolers and bags of food. We got out a long checkered tablecloth and spread it across two picnic tables that Amy and I moved together. Next I set out platters of cold cuts, raw veggies, apples, grapes, and melon. Everything was organic, non-GMO, and gluten-free per Laura’s request. We had rice crackers, a variety of cheeses, lettuce to make wraps, and a loaf of gluten-free bread. There was something for everyone, including vegan butter and tofu.

  Last were eight stemless wineglasses and three bottles of my aunt’s wine. For some reason, I couldn’t find my main corkscrew to open the bottles. Luckily I kept a spare in the glove compartment. I opened the passenger’s side door and paused. Wait—the door hadn’t been locked. That was one thing about using the older van. It didn’t have automatic locks. I would have to remember to tell whoever sat in the passenger seat to lock the door when we left the van.

  I grabbed my spare wine opener and opened the bottles as the group started to emerge from the gift shop. Plates and silverware were next. When everyone was seated, I heard Dan ask, “Where’s Laura?”

  “Perhaps she’s still in the gift shop. I’ll go check,” I said. “Meanwhile, dive in and help yourself to some of my Aunt Jemma’s famous wine.”

  I left Millie tied to a leg of the picnic table with a bowl of water and a plate of steamed chicken, then I went to the gift shop.

  Laura was not inside. She also wasn’t in the ladies’ room. I stepped out and counted heads, thinking maybe she was back outside. There were only six at the table. When I walked out alone, Dan stood and came over.

  “Where is she?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe she got sidetracked and is still on the trail.”

  “I don’t like it,” Dan said. “It’s not like Laura to go missing from the group. I told you that you were a scattered guide. I’m going back up the trail.”

  “I’m sure she’s on the trail somewhere. It’s not so big that you can get lost.”

  “Then let’s find her.”

  “Okay, I’ll take Millie,” I agreed. “You go up the front of the trail, and I’ll backtrack from the other end. You have your cell phone?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Great, text me if you find her, and I’ll do the same.”

  I went to the table and unleashed Millie.

  “Is everything all right?” Amy asked.

  “Laura doesn’t seem to have come back from the trail,” I said. “Has anyone seen her?”

  “I thought she was in front with Dan,” Sally said.

  “No, Dan was in the back with me at the end of the trail.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Amy said. They both looked at me.

  “Did anyone see her as they came down the trail?”

  “I didn’t,” Emma said.

  “I know I didn’t,” Sally added.

  I started to get nervous when no one could remember when they last saw Laura. The gardens were twenty-five acres. Most paths were well marked, but I had noted other less well-marked paths wandering through. I figured you had to work at getting lost, but I couldn’t help thinking that I should have counted heads when we first arrived back at the parking lot.

  “Maybe she stopped to take pictures of the waterfall and the Japanese garden bridge,” Juliet said. “She should be coming in soon.”

  “Where’s Dan going?” Sally asked, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

  “He’s going to take the
trailhead to see if he can find her,” I said. “Millie and I will go up through the back of the trail. She’s probably taking pictures or meditating on a certain scene.”

  “Really, if Dan was with you, then Laura must have been as well,” Emma said. “They are always together.”

  “No, only Dan,” Amy said in my defense.

  “Let’s not worry. I’m sure she’s fine,” I said. “Everyone stay put. I’ve got my cell. Millie and I will go up the trail until we find Laura or meet Dan. Please stay here and enjoy the food and good wine. I’m sure it’s nothing but Laura getting a little lost or distracted.”

  “That doesn’t sound like our Laura,” Sally said, her mouth a thin line.

  “Come on, Millie,” I said. “Let’s go back on the trail.” All I could do was hope that the rest of the group stayed put while Dan and I backtracked. The last thing I needed was for more than one of the group to go missing on my first tour.

  Maybe Laura was hiding on me. I knew that sounded silly, even to myself, but Dan had pointed out that I was scattered and needed their help with marketing. Maybe this was their plan to make me think twice about turning them down.

  Millie barked as I unleashed her, and she ran back and forth along the edges of the wide trail. We rounded a curve and came upon the stream. The sound of water bubbling was peaceful in the midst of my anxiety. “Laura,” I called out. “Laura, are you okay?”

  I stepped over the bridge and onto the other side of the pond. “Laura, can you hear me? If you can hear me, please say something.”

  As we started up the fairly steep path, I thought back to when I’d last seen Laura. After our sort of disastrous talk, I had dropped back. She was fit and had quickly taken the lead down the trail. It had been the last I saw of her.

  Millie stopped where the trail curved and split. I paused and called Laura’s name. There was no answer. At this point in the trail, the brush along the sides was over six feet tall. A post displayed the general warning about mountain lions in the area and what to do should you encounter one. I was certain Laura hadn’t encountered one. Millie might have been a puppy, but I had no doubt that she would’ve alerted me if there were any big cats on the trail today.