Children of the House of Four Seasons: Maxi Skinner

The direct parallel story to Jacky Thorne

By Atonia Walpole

(Picture creations also by Atonia)

Part 1 – Getting There

He’d made a sort of game out of it, taking whatever flight that came next that he could get a seat. Maxi had flown from Boston to Washington, DC, from there to Atlanta, from Atlanta to Chicago, from Chicago to Dallas from Dallas to San Francisco. It had been fun for awhile but he arrived in San Francisco with two days growth of beard and a little smelly. At the airport he rented himself a car, a sporty little convertible. After all, this was California, land of sun and fun. He was soon on the side of the road trying to figure out how to get the top back up.

Maxi found himself a nice hotel downtown, had a bath and took advantage of room service, enjoying a meal, the first real meal he’d had since leaving the House of Four Seasons two days ago. His creature comforts satisfied he turned on the TV and poked around the brochures and things to do and see book in his room. Travel fatigue caught up with him and he fell asleep across the bed.  He slept through the afternoon and the night, waking to laughter and music on the TV. Too early in the morning for that, he felt around for the remote and turned it off.

He had himself a cup of room service coffee, opened the curtains to his room and looked out. It was raining, nothing to see but tall buildings and beyond that fog as though the city drifted off into a cloud at the end of the street. It didn’t look like the brochures at all. It looked more like London. He wasn’t here to look at the city in a fog bank. It was time to make some kind of plan. He found the map he’d been looking at the night before and worked out his route. Two places he knew there were family wineries, one in Napa and one in Sonoma. The main family winery was in Napa. He remembered that from his Grandpa Duncan’s stories. Napa…he would go to Napa.

After checking out of the hotel he found his way to the bay bridge and crossed over. He’d programmed Napa into the GPS on the dashboard and followed the instructions. He smiled at intersection, thinking about his father’s attempts to follow the French to get to La Siroque. The truth was he missed him. It had only been three days but he’d always been there. Maxi wondered if it would ever be like that again. All because of Rose…damn little minx. He’d never paid much attention to her, spending his time fantasizing about a local girl in Bonnieux, until that day he came upon her sunbathing without a top down by the lake at La Siroque. He had no idea she had such…breasts. She’d caught him looking at her and decided to apply a layer of suntan oil over herself.

Thirty miles outside of San Francisco the weather began to clear, still a bit misty, enough to keep the windshield wipers going now and then. The further inland he went the warmer it became and finally he pulled over and put the top down on the convertible. He was in wine country now, not quite to Napa but vineyards fanned out on both sides of the road. It was the scale of them that surprised him. He’d seen large vineyards in France but this was something else. This was production on a large scale. He thought about his own at La Chambord and the vineyards at La Siroque and suddenly he wasn’t so sure of himself.

He arrived in Napa, found a hotel room and set out to explore the town. He kept thinking as he walked along and studied menus outside of the cafés and bistros that his mother might have walked these same steps. Later he found a bar and went in for a drink, carrying it out to the patio area frequented by smokers. He wasn’t a nonsmoker but he never bought a pack of cigarettes; he bummed when he wanted one.

He was on his second pint of beer when a woman and two Mexicans came out onto the patio. He looked her over as he would do, noticing she was absolutely filthy, sweaty in her cut off jeans and tank top with no bra and rubber boots. She had a bandanna tied around her head, wet with perspiration, and two long dirty blonde braids. He followed their bantering back and forth in Spanish as best he could. He noticed how she turned her bottle up, downing half a beer before stopping and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He’d never seen a woman such as this before. Soon the Mexicans left and she was on her second beer and turned around to him, looking for a light.

“Gotta match?”

“Um, no…lighter.” Maxi pulled out his Bic and lit her cigarette. She narrowed her eyes, looking into his for a moment.

“Thanks. You just visiting?”

“Yes, having a look round.”

“Where are you from?”

“Provence in France.”

“I know where that is. You’re a long way from home.” She picked up her beer, moved over to his table and sat down, wiping her forehead on the back of her arm. She was darkly tanned underneath the grime. “Sorry, I forgot my manners. Would you like one?” She offered him a cigarette from a damp, half-squashed pack of Marlboros.

He overcame his sensibilities and took one. “Merci.”

“You by yourself or with a group?”

“I’m on my own. I, uh, just came up from San Francisco this morning.”

“Doing a little wine tasting?” she smiled, brilliant white teeth flashing in her tanned dirty face.

“Not yet,” he smiled back.

“I’m Deb Holloway, Oenologist.”

“Maxi…Duncan, vintner.

“Ah, you make wine! Is your family into it?” She looked him over. He was fairly young.

“Yes, my father and my grandfather. He’s passed now and I have his winery.”

“Oh, ho, lucky you.”

“I don’t know much about this area. Where would be a good place to start?”

“Any of them, really. Most all have a stone room, tasting room. I’ve been working over at Buena Sierra this week. Damn hot work.”

“Yes, I see it is.” He smiled a little and took a drink from his glass.

She laughed, “Yeah, I know I’m a mess but you don’t work like I do and come out clean. You have an Oenologist?”

“Yes, he comes twice a year.” But he’d never seen him look like she did.

“I spent some time in France down in Bordeaux. Yeah, I worked there for a couple of years.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About eight years now. Duncan? Are you any kin to the Duncan’s over at Ellenridge?”

“I, um, don’t know…I’m from France.” He wasn’t sure why he’d given that as a last name.

She rubbed her nose. “I thought they had a brother that went over there. Hey, Rich, another please!” she called out to the young man bringing out a tray of beer and drinks around the tables.

Ellenridge. Now he had a name. “Where is this Ellenridge?”

“Down toward St. Helens. You can’t miss it.” She wiped the top of the fresh bottle and took a long drink. “Are you staying around here?”

“There’s a hotel down that street. I have a room there.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

Maxi’s eyes widened. “I don’t know.”

“Well, good…I’m taking you home with me.” She looked him in the eye.

Maxi blinked.

“Can’t have you running around on your own tonight. You’re too damn good- looking.” She finished her beer. “Drink up.”

There was a little light that came into Maxi’s eyes. He’d never done anything like this in his life. He’d never been picked up and certainly never been accosted by such a dirty, sweaty female person on his worst nights in Paris.

He drained his beer glass.

Part 2 -The Pick Up

Deb took him home in her filthy, beat up Ford Explorer. Her work vehicle she explained, half brushing off a seat for him on the passenger side. She had a bungalow tucked up in the hills. The road she said led to the sea on one side and to the vines on the other, perfect place. It didn’t look like much on the outside but inside everything was painted white, including furniture. Color came from the bright Mexican rugs and handmade pottery. Artwork on the walls was of the local scenery.

“In here! ” She called him from the living room into the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. “You can start on this while I clean up."

It was a tiny little kitchen but the wine was good. He picked up the bottle and examined the label. It was a local wine…so much for Duflot, he mused.

Maxi turned, hearing the bathroom door open. She walked naked from the bathroom to her bedroom, the dark patch between her legs quickly disappearing behind a closed door. He’d had a quick glimpse of long tanned legs and a small hand-sized white spot on her bum. Her hair hung to her waist, wet.

He smirked a little and sipped on his wine…tonight.

“What do you think of it?” she asked, coming from her bedroom into the kitchen. She’d towel dried her hair, sun bleached and wavy, was dressed in an oversized tee shirt and nothing else he could see at first glance.

“It’s very good, very light and crisp. I like it.” He looked her in the face, seeing her for the first time without grime. She was an attractive woman, brown eyes and a wide mouth, dark brows knitted together now as she contemplated behind her fridge door.

“We can start with this.” She pulled out some cheeses, grapes, leaf lettuce, tiny tomatoes. Some bread from a metal bin and a dry salami that she sliced thinly. “I don’t usually eat much when I’m working. The heat just takes it out of you.”

“This is fine for me.” He bit off a piece of the salami.

“So…you’re over her all by yourself. Why did you come?” She sliced one of the tomatoes in half and stuck it in his mouth, the other in hers.

“Um…just to see.”

“Just to see?” She fed him a piece of cheese. “Come to see if we make wine or Hawaiian Punch?”

Maxi stopped chewing.

“I thought that was funny. Saw it in a movie about Provence…what was it called, um…A Good Year. That was it.”

Maxi swallowed, “Yes, I’ve seen that.” Oh, he would have to be careful.

“How old are you, Maxi?”

“Twenty-one…twenty-two in November.”

“I thought you were young. I’m twelve years older than you are. Does that bother you?” She slipped a grape in between his lips.

“No…you look good.”

“Nah, I don’t. I’m sun-ravaged and wind-ravaged but I don’t care. I’m healthy.” She slipped another grape in his mouth and he caught her fingers with his teeth.

“Ohhh, you are so sweet. Let me have it back.” She placed her lips on his and he tongued the grape back in her mouth.  “You’ve done this before.”

“No,” he smiled, shaking his head.

“I’m going to teach you some things,” she said, running a finger down his neck.

She was so close he could smell her. She smelled of soap and shampoo and his crotch was swelling. He silently cursed himself. He was acting like a fifteen year old boy and he wasn’t. He knew a few things himself. He picked up a piece of cheese and fed it to her. She sucked his fingers…oh, fuck.

Deb ran her hands over his slim hips and around to the front. “Oh, let’s go take care of this right now…then we’ll have the rest of the night…for fun.”

Maxi let her lead him to the living room to the sofa. She unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them down over his hips and took him in her mouth. It didn’t’ take long; Maxi was half there by the time she got his pants down

“Now there’s no hurry. We can take it nice and easy for the rest of the night.” Deb kissed his nose, went back to the kitchen and refilled their glasses.

Maxi lay on the sofa for a minute and pulled his pants up. Once he got himself together he got up and went back to the kitchen. “I don’t know about this.” he said, reaching for the wine glass.

“What don’t you know? Honey, you’re in your prime. You are sweet.”

“I’ve never met anybody like you before.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You, um, picked me up.”

“Yes, I did. That’s a first for you?  I don’t make a habit of it but there was something about you that said do it.”

“Do it?" he grinned. “I’m not a virgin.”

“I didn’t think you were. Oh, no, you’ve got something Maxi, an innocence that’s sweet but not so pure. I wouldn’t want a choir boy.” She downed the wine and emptied the bottle into her glass. “ I don’t want you to do something silly like…start spouting things about love and all that crap.”

“No, I’m not ready for that. I’m too young. There are things I want to do, you know. I have my winery. I want to make it the best and make it profitable. Make some money.” He grinned.

“You are so cute.”  She touched his face.

“I don’t want to be cute. I put down the first vintage this year, mine. I blended and tasted and found what I wanted from the grapes. My  grandfather taught me. He was very good.” Maxi finished his glass of wine.

“You’re serious…you really have your own winery?”

“Yes…why would I lie?”

“I don’t know. A lot of young men would...trying to impress me.  You would not believe the stories I hear.”

“I have no need to impress you.” Maxi took the cigarette she offered him.

“That’s right, you don’t. We’ll never see each other again. That’s what makes this so special. I’ve been playing with you…I can’t wait to see what you’re made of.”

Maxi smiled a little. “You would not believe it if I told you.”

“Let’s go find out.” She led him into the bedroom and unbuttoned his shirt, running her hands over his chest and up his back. “Um, do you work out, go to the gym?”

“No, just work.” She was unbuttoning his jeans again. He helped getting his pants off and his shoes. His underwear went and his socks. She now had full access to him. Her hands seemed to be everywhere; she touched him all over his body. He began an exploration of his own, pulling the shirt over her head, touching her breasts, down her sides and between her legs.

She let him do what he wanted to do, lying across her bed. He was sweet but he knew a thing or two about pleasing a woman.  He kissed like no one she’d ever kissed before. When he entered her he teased her with his element, air, something he’d learned with Rose. He had no desire to make her his, just to let her know he was more than he appeared to be….more than cute.

She was up and gone before he woke in the morning. Rolling over in her bed and hugging a pillow he came alive slowly, not a morning person at all. When he did come alive he sat up in the bed and looked around, getting his bearings. There was an empty wine bottle on the bedside table that accounted for the velvet tongue and head. He got up, went to the bathroom and took a shower, found his clothes and dressed.

In the kitchen he found a note telling him to make himself at home, she’d be back before dark. He helped himself to coffee and made some toast. Later he was walking down the road and got a ride into Napa where he claimed his car, paid for the hotel room he didn’t use and studied the map he’d taken from the hotel in San Francisco. Ellenridge…that was his destination today.

He put on his sunglasses and thought about Deb for a little bit. She had taught him a few things but he hadn’t left her wanting. He knew that for a fact. It had been fun. He was smiling as he pulled out of the parking lot of the Best Western.

Part 3 - Ellenridge

He pulled into the first winery he came to that had a sign out for wine tasting. It was still early. They didn’t start until 10:30 so he spent some time walking around and having a look at the operation. Walking through the vineyards at designated areas he tasted a few grapes, pulled a few leaves and smelled them, tasted them, took note of how the vines were trimmed and trained. Still it was the size of the operation that amazed him. Acres upon acres of vines.

By 1:00 he’d worked his way through three wineries and with only a piece of toast in the morning he was beginning to feel a little heavy. There was no chance of a place to eat around there and he’d about decided to turn back when he saw the first little discreet sign posted along the road for Ellenridge Vineyards. He pulled over to the side of the road and just stared at it. It was endless. He continued down the road, vineyards on both sides, and then a sign announcing the winery. He pulled onto the road between yet more vines. It continued on over the low rolling hills, winding about and finally trees and grass and rose bushes. He pulled into the designated parking area and parked alongside other cars.

Maxi didn’t have a plan. He didn’t feel he could just walk up and announce himself. He wasn’t that well acquainted with the American Duncan’s. He’d met his great Uncle and a few others, names he couldn’t remember, relationships he couldn’t remember. He’d been seventeen when his grandfather Aubrey Duncan passed away and obsessed with Rose at the time. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see these relatives again, hadn’t thought he’d ever need to.

He went into the tasting room and was given a card with the wines that were being served. He glanced at it, knowing he didn’t really need any more wine until he’d eaten something. Someone handed him a glass and the next thing he knew he was sipping wine. He took several sips, letting it roll around on his tongue, something about it familiar. He’d tasted this before or something very similar. He went through two more selections before he needed air…outside. He carefully sat his glass down and made for the door. He’d just cleared the walkway when he felt it coming up.

“That’s probably going to kill that rosebush.”

Maxi looked up as an elderly woman handed him a bottle of water. “Merci.” He took the bottle and a small sip. “I’m sorry.” He shook his head a little.

“That’s the problem we see all the time, young people coming through these wineries with nothing on their minds but to drink themselves silly. No appreciation at all of what they’re drinking, just trying to get drunk.”

“No, no…I wasn’t.” Maxi straightened up, hoping his stomach was through, and looked beyond her where two men were talking. The smaller of the two he knew, his Uncle James Duncan, Aubrey’s older brother. He rinsed his mouth out with the water and looked at the woman again. “I know him…he is my grandfather’s brother.”

She stared at him a moment. “Aubrey?”

“Oui.”

“You’re Connie’s boy?”

“Yes, Maxi Skinner.”

She turned around. “James, somebody here you might want to see. Come with me, Maxi.” She led him over to the two men. “James, this is Aubrey’s grandson, Maxi.”

James Duncan looked over his glasses. He was smaller in stature than Aubrey had been, same piercing blue eyes and white hair, though not as much as he’d had at the funeral. “Maxi? What in blue blazes are you doing here?” There was a light in his eye and Maxi smiled back.

“I came to see.”

“He’s been puking on the rosebushes.”

Maxi blushed.

James laughed, “What were you drinking?”

“I don’t think it was yours. I’ve been stopping along the way.”

“What are you doing here? Are you with your father?”

“No, I came alone. I just wanted to…see.”

“Where are you staying?" the woman asked him.

“Um, nowhere right now. I was in Napa last night.”

The woman looked at James. “We’ll put him up.” She turned to Maxi. “I’m your great Aunt May, James’s wife. I’m glad to meet you. Are you parked down here somewhere,”

“Yes, just there…”

“Get your car and follow me. I’m in the golf cart.”

Maxi couldn’t believe his luck but it had embarrassed him, upchucking. He ran down to his car and backed out, following May in the golf cart up a narrow pebbled road.

The old house appeared in sections, first the tall center portion made of stone sitting high on a hill. The closer you got wings appeared haphazardly off to the sides. The grounds were heavily planted with shrubs, rose bushes and trees, some very old and gnarled. They stopped in a graveled area behind the house. Maxi got out of his car and looked at the view…vines to the horizon.

“This way,” she said and opened a door.

Maxi followed into the tiled hallway. It was cool in the house, dark and shadowy, until they reached the front rooms where the light poured in from two-storied windows. He followed her up a curved stairway to the second floor and down another hall to a room.

“We’ll put you in here.” May stood back and looked him over as he walked by, placing his bag on a bench at the foot of the bed.

He went to the window. “I’ve never seen so many vines, you know.”

“That’s not all of it. Have you eaten?”

“Um, no, only some toast early this morning.”

“I thought so. Lunch is over here but I imagine Maria can find something for you. Follow me…oh, the bathroom is right there across the hall.”

“Thank you.” She was a short spare woman in her bright blue, rolled-up cotton pants and yellow knit top. Her rubber soled shoes made a squeaking sound every other step. Her steel gray hair was cut short, a no-nonsense style that suited the woman.

Once he was settled with a chicken sandwich, some fresh fruit, and a glass of iced tea, she sat down across from him at the tiled kitchen table. “You said you came to see…see what, Maxi?”

Maxi swallowed his sandwich. “I came to see if I could find something of my mother.”

“Connie…you never knew her, did you? You won’t find her here in this place. They never lived here…over in Sonoma at Ellensgate. That’s where Aubrey lived with Sylvia. Our sons are living over there now. You look like your father. I met him when your Aunt Penny got married in Paris.”

“You didn’t come for the funeral of my grandfather?”

“No, I’ve got an inner ear problem keeps me from flying. James went and the boys. I expect you’ll want to go over to Ellensgate. I’ll let ‘em know you’re here. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want. Just make yourself at home. Supper is at six and we don’t dress for dinner. I’ve got work to do so I’ll leave you to yourself.” She got up from the table and gave him a pat on the shoulder and a little smile.

“Thank you…thanks very much.” Maxi watched her walk out of the kitchen. He finished up his meal and went outside, wanting another look at that fantastic view.

Maxi spent the afternoon wandering around the house and grounds, trying to get the feel of the place. It was nothing like La Siroque or Chambord. Although the house was old, it was new by his standards. He’d been up and changed his shirt and cleaned up a bit before dinner. Coming back down the stairs he heard his Uncle and went to find him in his study.

“Ah, Maxi! Come and sit.”

“Sir.”

“Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk for a minute before dinner. Sorry I’ve been busy today. You should have let us know you were coming.”

“I didn’t know myself until I was on a plane and then I didn’t know how to contact anyone.”

“May says you’re trying to find something about your mother.”

“Yes, I never knew her, you know, and I only have photographs and a book she started when I was born. A baby book. My grandfather didn’t talk that much about her.”

“Umm, I remember her. She was a quiet girl, unlike her sister Penny. She favored Aubrey in looks; Penny looked like her mother, Sylvia. I believe she was in her early twenties when she left here. married that English feller.”

“Not my father.…”

“No, his name was Smythe. Came over here for some kind of a meeting in San Francisco and ended up here on a tour. I don’t know all the details but I reckon they fell for each other. He went home and then came back and asked her to marry him and off she went to England. Never came back. She and Bill were about the same age. Bill’s my oldest, lives over at Ellensgate.”

“Who was Ellen? Everything is Ellen.”

“Ellen was my great grandmother. There’s a little booklet…” He reached over to the book-lined shelves behind him and came up with a soft cover book. “You can keep this if you want. Tells the history of the wineries and how they came to be.”

“Thank you. I am amazed at the size of this place…the vines.”

“Yeah, it’s quite extensive. What you see here is only part of it. There’s two more vineyards, one in Sonoma and one down toward Ruthford. What we have here is Zinfandel. Old vines, these are. Along the road you probably passed vineyards. One is a white zin and the other is newer. Still working on that one but it’s a chardonnay.”

“I’d like to see where you make the wine.”

“I’ll set you up a tour. Now Aubrey had a pretty good set up, as I recall. Are you still working it?”

“Yes, I came into the chateau and vines last year. I have already put down a vintage.”

“Have you? Hmm, you’re a young man to be making wine already.”

“I had a good teacher. My father manages the estate and I have help, you know.”

James smiled, “I wish you luck with it. Aubrey made some good wine.”

Part 4 – Relations at Ellensgate

Maxi had his tour the next morning and with another handful of brochures he went for his car. He was expected at Ellensgate for lunch and his Uncle James had drawn out a map for him to get there. He’d been paying attention to how the wine was marketed, filing it away for future reference. Perhaps he should do a brochure? It was something to think about.

His chestnut hair was windblown from the drive in the convertible when he passed through the gates at Ellensgate, following the winding road to the house, a large blue Victorian, elaborately gabled and turreted. A wide wraparound porch greeted him along with Bill Duncan.

“Maxi, welcome to Ellensgate. I’m Bill.” Bill was about his father’s size, shorter than Maxi, same blue eyes and soft brown hair, again the wide smile with brilliant teeth.

“Hello, I remember you,” Maxi smiled and shook hands.

“Come in, come in! Linda has gathered the family. Everybody wants to meet you.” Bill ushered him into the long, wide front room that seemed to be full of people.

Maxi was introduced around, names he’d not remember right away. He smiled, remembering Luc. He still had that long ponytail down his back but with more gray hair threading through it.

“Maxi,” Luc fixed him with a look, “you’ve grown up.”

“A little I think,” Maxi grinned.

“You’re the younger brother.”

“Sorry?”

“You have an older brother…like me.”

“Yes, Jacky. I am the younger brother.”

“Don’t pay any attention to him, his mind’s blown. I’m Billy.”

Maxi turned. “Billy….”

“The oldest son. Bill’s my father. That’s my brother Jimmy and over there is Ellen, the sister.”

“Ah, okay.” His eyes rested on Ellen for a moment.

“We’re so glad you’ve come.” Linda came over to him.

“Merci, I’m glad to be here.” He smiled sweetly.

“You’re French,” Billy said.

“ I don’t know what I am, but by nationality, yes.  My father is English and, well, you know my mother.”

“I knew your mother very well. We’ll talk about her later,” Bill said.

Linda looked around. “If we’re all ready, I declare it lunchtime.”

It was a noisy, boisterous table with everybody talking at once. Luc sat across from him with little to say and to his right was Ellen. She hadn’t spoken to him but every time Maxi looked up she looked away quickly. She had the soft brown hair of her father and her mother’s green eyes. Billy, a few years older than Jacky, was married and his wife, who was expecting their first child, wasn’t there. Jimmy was single as was Ellen and Luc, thrice married, was now single again. He gathered this from bits of conversation around the table. He was content to listen to them talk but questions were fired his way, too. Was he married…no. Did he live at Chambord…yes…make wine…yes. How old was he…twenty-one. It moved on to what kind of grapes did he grow and a description of what was grown at Ellensgate. The family was almost overwhelming to Maxi.

After the meal they scattered. Luc walked out onto the front porch to smoke and Maxi followed him.

“Would you like a cig?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Such manners! Do they drill them into you at an early age?”

“I don’t know. It’s just how I am.”

“Whyever did you want to come out here?”

“To find my mother’s roots, maybe to know her a little.”

“Ohh, well, I have something for you then. Remind me and I’ll give it to you.”

“Yes. Do you still record?”

“Oh, good Lord, no! I write music for other people now. I’ve a studio here.” Luc’s thick, graying hair caught the breeze, blowing a few loose strands around his chiseled features.  He wore a neatly trimmed beard. It helped hide his sagging jaw line. He was still a handsome man, as tall as Maxi.

“My Aunt Penny has your recordings, your CD’s.”

He smiled a little. “Does she? Penny…the wild child.”

“How do you remember my mother?”

“With fondness. She was quite deep, you know, a quiet steadiness about her. I don’t remember her ever saying anything bad about anybody. She read a lot and wrote little. A pity Uncle Aubrey only had girls. He might have stayed here.”

“I don’t know if that is so. He loved Provence.”

“We thought when Connie died he might come home, but he said he’d lost everything except you.” Luc turned and smiled at Maxi. “And you inherited?”

“Yes.”

“Must be quiet a burden on one so young as yourself.”

“No, I’ve known since I was old enough to know anything that it would be mine one day.”

“Ellensgate is officially mine. However until the old man passes I’ve got Bill and his family here. I’m not complaining, but that’s how it is. Bill will get Ellenridge. You’re staying there?”

“Yes, it’s lovely.”

“Lovely.” He smiled at the description.

“There you are, Maxi. Come with me. I’ll show you around.” Bill came out the front door.

Maxi glanced at Luc, who winked and gave him a grin. “I’d like that,” he replied.

Bill gave the tour from his golf cart, stopping and explaining vines and what stage the grapes were in. Maxi listened with interest. Bill knew what he was talking about. He had a passion for it and would be a good steward when his father passed on. Maxi wondered about Luc. Clearly his interest was not in grapes. After Ellenridge was mentioned several times, Maxi asked the question.

“What will happen to Ellensgate when you move to Ellenridge?”

“Heh, well, I intend for Billy to take it over. He’s coming up in the business. We make a different product over here at Ellensgate, a good inexpensive wine that sells.”

“What was it like when my grandfather had it?”

“He made a different wine from what we do now, more quality than quantity. But quantity  is where the money is.”

Maxi knew better. “We make a special wine, only about a thousand bottles a year, but it pays for everything else. My grandfather developed it with a little help, I think, from my father’s Uncle Henry.”

“I’ve heard about that. It sells at auctions. But you see the size of this vineyard and it goes on past what you can see here. Nah, quantity that’s where it’s at for us. My Dad bought more land and added onto the place after your grandfather sold out to him. I know what you’re talking about though. We make a small batch of sherry that’s top notch. I’ll take you to the tasting room and you can try it.”

Bill left him in the tasting room, a cool stone-floored room lined with bottles and barrels. He sat on a high stool at a wooden table and opened the bottle. Good buttery with a taste of butterscotch underneath, a hint of vanilla.

“Hi.”

He almost dropped the bottle. “Where did you come from? I didn’t see you.”

“Back there.” Ellen walked over to where he was sitting. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, um, it is. Very good.”

“That’s Uncle Luc’s. He doesn’t do anything else, but he likes the sherry.”

“Oh? Somehow I thought he wasn’t involved with winemaking.”

“That’s the extent of it. Dad does the rest. How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t look anything like the Duncan’s.”

“I look like my father.”

“He must be a very handsome man.”

“Would you like to share this bottle of fine sherry with me?” He tilted his head and smiled.

“I believe I would.” She found a glass and joined him at the table.

“What’s your place in this operation?”

“I don’t have one. Billy is Dad cloned, Jimmy does what he’s told, I’m  still in college.”

“What about after college?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m in my sophomore year and still don’t know. It won’t be this place. I’m going as far away from here as I can.”

“Why?”

“It’s mind-numbing. Look at Billy and Jimmy. They don’t know anything else. This is awfully good.”

“Are you old enough to drink it?” Maxi raised a brow

“Not until August.”

“Am I going to get you in trouble?”

“Gosh, I hope so!” She laughed a little nervously.

Maxi’s smile lit up his face. “When you get out of school and are, um, looking for a place to go…come to Provence.”

“I’ve got two more years.” She looked into his blue green eyes.

“I’ll still be there…I’ll be there.” He moistened his lips, tasting the sherry.

“Promise?”

“No promises. Two years is a long time. You might, um, get sidetracked.”

“I’ll need somebody to put me back on track.” He was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes.

Softly his lips touched hers and he pulled away.

“You taste like sherry,” she said.

“Remember that taste.” He held her eyes a moment then settled back on the seat and poured out a little more sherry. Self control, Maxi…self control, he told himself. He was doing very well.

Part 5- Finding the Pieces

After the bottle of sherry Maxi took himself back to Ellenridge before he made a fool of himself. He went straight to his room and passed out on the bed. Powerful stuff, Luc’s sherry. He woke a few hours later a little worse for wear and went downstairs, meeting up with his Aunt May in the hallway.

She took a look at him and laughed, “Found the sherry, did you? What do you need now?”

“Um, aspirin? Coffee?”

She took him back to the kitchen and fixed him up. “You must have made an impression. They’ve called wanting you to come to dinner tomorrow night…and they do dress over there. What do you think of ‘em?”

“A bit overwhelming when they’re all together. But, um, nice. Bill will make a good steward.”

“Yes, he will. He’s been brought up to it and so have his boys.”

“What will happen to Luc?”

“Lucien? Ah, he’ll keep on doing what he does. Always has done what he wanted to. No thought for the family or his responsibilities here.”

“He makes good sherry.”

“I’ll give him that. Do you want something to eat? You missed dinner.”

“No, coffee is fine. I met Ellen.”

“Now there’s another one. Of course she’s young and I love my granddaughter but her mind's not in the right place yet. The last I heard she was wanting to write books for children and illustrate them. I know that’s a fine thing to do but that’s not what she’s been brought up to do.”

“You believe the whole family should be involved in the winemaking business?”

“You bet I do! It’s what keeps us all going, keeps us fed and clothed, pays for their education. You don’t turn your back on something like that.”

“But my mother was not involved. She only kept books for my grandfather and Aunt Penny.”

“That was Aubrey’s family and his business. He married outside, girl from southern California. I expect it was her influence because Aubrey wasn’t brought up that way.”

“I think he tried to bring me up that way but I had my father and my mum.”

“It must have worked. You’re in it.”

“Yes, but it is not my whole life.”

“Well, you’re young yet. It’s in your blood and blood will tell.”

Maxi smiled. She had no idea what was in his blood. “Will I have to wear a tie? I didn’t bring one.”

“You can get by without. You’re French.”

Oh, was he now? Perhaps he was more French and English than anything else.  If this was American, he thought that part of him might not be as strong as the others. He was content with that. He wasn’t driven as the Duncan’s were. The French influence had come from the Duflot’s and growing up in La Siroque and the Luberon Valley. English from his father, his father whom he missed talking to. He’d walked outside, found a table and chairs and sat down, fingering the phone in his pocket. No, not yet. He was almost there. Better to wait…wait until he knew for sure. He thought about his mum . She was an American, too, but not like the Duncan’s, not at all like them. She was more like his father. He missed her, too. What was he doing here in the land of plenty with an empty pocket? What did he hope to fill it with?

He had a nice lunch with his Uncle James and Aunt May the next day and informed them he would be leaving the next morning and going back to San Francisco. They were sorry he wouldn’t be staying any longer and had enjoyed his visit. They were nice people. He liked them in spite of the obsession with business.

He bathed and dressed in the one white shirt he’d brought, no tie, and a dark jacket with his black jeans. He hadn’t shaved in days and kind of liked the look. Made him look older, he thought as he ran a brush through his hair…maybe a little less cute?

He arrived at Ellensgate around seven and it was already full on, drinks on the porch. He accepted a sherry for his cousin Luc. Billy’s pregnant wife was there and a girl introduced as Jimmy’s girlfriend, Belinda. Ellen had a glass of chardonnay, he noticed, and was wearing a long white skirt with a multicolored top. Gave her a rather bohemian look, set her apart from the pink and green and black and white the others wore. He liked that. Luc was in worn denim with a navy blue jacket and light blue shirt, ever the rebel. He sipped the sherry, aware he was the center of attention. He deliberately played up his 'Frenchness', kissing the women on both cheeks, dropping in French words and phrases. He was not one of them. His English came out clipped as his father’s. He made it through the small talk and the dinner talk and at last found himself out in the garden with his cousin Luc and a cigarette.

Luc regarded him over his lighter as he lit Maxi’s cigarette. “You played it very well tonight, Maxi. I like you.”

“Why have you not escaped?”

“I did for awhile. My last marriage drove me to things I shouldn’t have been into and I came home to get my head straight and my body off drugs. I never left again. I do what I want to here and they can’t say a thing because I own the damn place. My father went ahead and deeded this to me on condition that I stay and stay clean. I knew if I went back to LA I’d fall back into the same scene I left.”

“You make good sherry,” Maxi smiled, meeting his eyes.

“My one concession.”

“You said you had something for me of my mothers.”

“Yes I did. Come with me. It’s in my studio.”

Maxi followed him to a building he’d not seen before, mostly hidden by trees and shrubbery. “Wow! A recording studio and you don’t record anymore?”

“For my own listening pleasure. Sometimes some old friends drop by with an idea. This is where we work it out.” Luc went over to a cabinet and brought out two spiral bound notebooks. “These were Connie’s. She wrote them for me.”

Maxi took them and opened one. “Poetry…songs?”

“Songs. There are a few in there that made it big. You’ll recognize them when you find them.”

“She wrote them for you…?” He ran his hand over the cover.

“Yes, she did, the year before she met the Englishman and got married and left forever.”

Maxi looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Luc walked over to a CD player and popped one out, found a case for it and handed it to Maxi. “You can take this. Some of the songs are on it. I know them by heart now.”

Maxi looked at him a moment. “I’ve invited Ellen when she gets out of school to come to Provence.”

“My niece, Ellen?” He smiled a little and tilted his head. “Good for you.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Luc.”

“Likewise,” he grinned and reached over to flick the lights off.

Back in the garden Luc disappeared around the side of the house but a flash of white caught Maxi’s eye and he followed it to an archway covered in roses.

“I thought you’d gone.” Ellen stopped under the arch.

“No, I was with Luc in his studio. He had something for me of my mother’s. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I know. I heard Dad say. You won’t be back, will you?”

“Probably not. I meant what I said about coming to Provence.”

“I won’t forget…I won’t forget the taste of sherry.”

He hesitated only a moment and put an arm around her, pulling her to him. He kissed her properly and in doing so sent a little swoosh of air around her, a stirring of her senses.

She blinked when he pulled away, staring into his eyes, “I won’t forget.”

Maxi smiled and touched her face. “Bonne nuit pas revoir.”

He sat up in the middle of his bed that night and read through both notebooks. He had it now, that part of him that was his mother, the part of him that noticed dew on a leaf in the garden, listened to birdsong and knew the singer, that noticed how light reflected off the lake at La Siroque and how the sunlight filtered through the trees scattering shadows on the gravel courtyard, that knew the touch of a lover and the anguish that touch can sometimes bring.

He’d set out on a journey of discovery to find his mother and he’d found himself instead.

Part 7 – The Scent of Lavender

Maxi waited at the airport for his father to pick him up. He had a cardboard case in one hand and his bag in another. The case held three bottles, one of Luc’s sherries and two of zinfandel from Ellenridge. It felt good to be back in Provence and he smiled, seeing the familiar car pulling in front of the passenger pick up area.

Max was out of the car and around to the other side and embraced his son in a tight hug. “You’re all right?”

“Yes.” Maxi couldn’t get the smile off his face.

“Look at you! You’ve grown a beard.”

“I’ve grown a lot more than that, Dad.”

“I believe you have. Well, load up and let’s go home.”

“Where..which home?” Maxi turned, eyes wide.

“La Siroque unless you want to go to Chambord.”

“No,” he smiled. “Home. I didn’t know if I was welcome there anymore.”

“You’ll always be welcomed there. What I said to you at the House of Four Seasons I said in a moment of anger. It blew up in me so fast that I struck out and I’m sorry for that.”

“You had a right to be angry with me.”

“I didn’t try to call you because Jacky finally told me you’d gone to California to find your mother. Don’t fault him for that. I was in a pretty sorry state at the time.”

“It’s okay. Several times I almost called you but I wasn’t finished with what I set out to do.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes, I did, and it was totally unexpected. My mother was a Duncan by birth but she was of her mother and not her father’s people. You know  I don’t think I am an American.”

“Only half.”

“I loved my Grandpa Duncan but I could never be him. I met them, all of them, the Duncan’s. I found their wineries and brought some back. You would not believe the size of them. They would cover Provence.”

Max smiled, “Sounds pretty big.”

“Oh…too big for me. It takes everything out of a man to operate such an enterprise. There is nothing left but the vines. You remember Lucien…Luc?”

“Yes, the rock star.”

“He’s the best of them and…Ellen.”

“Ellen?”

“Yes, she’s Luc’s niece and I have invited her here when she gets out of school in two year's time. I think she will come.” He rolled the window down. “I hope she will.”

“You didn’t, um…?”

“No. Ha! I see you are surprised. I didn’t, no, but I wanted to.”

Max gave him a sideways look.

“Honest…Oh, but let me tell you about the oenologist. Oh, my God, what a woman!”

Max laughed. This was a Maxi he knew well despite his apparent newly-acquired maturity. He raised his brows and grinned as he listened to Maxi’s account of his night with Deb.

“Grapes, eh? “ Max grinned. “I’ll have to try that.”

Maxi laughed, “You think I can tell an old dog new tricks?”

“Who’s an old dog? You might ask your Mum about that.”

“It’s good to be back with you.”

“It’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you, Maxi.”

“Me too. Oh, stop…stop here.”

“What here? There’s nothing but lavender.” Max found a place to pull over under a large tree. Maxi was out of the car, grabbing a fistful of lavender and holding it to his nose.

Max got out and leaned on the car. “What are you doing?”

“Lavender…the scent of home.  Do you know what California smells like…money, and money has no flavor.”

“I don’t think it’s all that way, Maxi.”

“What I saw was. That’s all the Duncan’s are interested in. I couldn’t live like that.”

“There was a time I thought that was all there was in life, making money.”

“I know. I remember from the movie but you saw the light, you figured it out. I never got to ask you what happened to Fanny?”

“Oh, Fanny? She wasn’t real. When I came over with your Mum and had a look at the chateau there was no Duflot so I knew it wouldn’t all be there. I came back and went up to Gordes where Fanny had her café. The square was empty.”

“That’s too bad. She was, um….” Maxi wiggled his brows.

“Yes, she was,” Max smiled.

“You know, I’ve been trying to put all the parts of me together. I want Chambord to be a success. I want it to make money to support me and someone someday. Maybe I get that from you. I know what money can do.  But I also love life, I love this place, that too from you. I’ve learned how to conduct myself as a man. I see you smiling but you will see. There is a part of my mother in me also. I understand it now. You know Jacky used to make my life miserable if he found a scrap of something I’d written. He said I was a girly man but I’m not. Mum understood. I don’t know about you….”

“I know you could look at something and see far more than I did. The way you could describe things. You have a vivid imagination and better sight than I do and I’m not talking about eyeglasses.”

“I understand. Dad, about Rose….”

“Your mother has had a full confession from her. It’s over it’s done. There’s no need to discuss it again. You might be interested to know she’s spending the summer in volunteer work. Your mother found a nice old folks home in Bonnieux that appreciates her services.” He tilted his head with a little grin.

Maxi grinned back. “What happened at the House after I left?”

“Oh, we went to the airport but evidently had just missed you. We left the next day. Jacky came with Rose and me.”

“Good. He saw Mum, then?”

“Yes, they made up for lost time, talking half the night, and the next day Jacky left. Terry had a job for him in Africa where he rescued a girl, fell in love and got shot.”

“What? Is he all right?”

“Oh, yes. Shot in the shoulder. He’ll have a scar to tease you about now.”

“Where is he?”

“Still in Khartoum, I think. Terry’s there with him and evidently has a woman with him.”

“Uncle Terry with a woman?”

“You find that odd?”

“Well, no, but I never knew he had one.”

“For about six years. He kept it a secret.”

“You know I go away for a week and look what happens. I think I’ll stay home for a while.”

“Good thinking. Are you ready to go there or would you like to dance about in lavender fields for a while?”

“I think I’ll go home,” Maxi smiled and tossed the lavender in the air.

ON TO ROSE AUBREY

BACK TO JACKY THORNE

BACK TO LOST AND FOUND

BACK TO INDEX OF ALL THE HOUSE STORIES

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE