When Remy hadn’t heard from Rina by lunchtime on Thursday, she rang Montgomery Wines. Rina wasn’t there. She left messages on her voicemail for Rina to call her back. She waited an hour but Rina never called.
Remy knew she could have complained to Seth, but if their relationship was going to work, she couldn’t run to him every time something didn’t work out as she’d planned. He had a corporation to run.
So she tried Lewis Carney.
He was under the pump—they had a lot of fruit coming in—but he made time to go into the office and check the schedule for her.
‘You’re not on the list till next week, Rem,’ he said eventually. ‘Tuesday.’
‘That can’t be right, Lewis. There’s rain forecast for the weekend. If we wait, we could lose the lot. It’s ready right now.’ She made him check the schedule again.
‘I’m telling you, Rem, you’re listed for Tuesday. There’s a note here that Rina sampled your block yesterday and you’re at 11.6 Baume … oh shit!’
‘What?’ Whatever had happened, it sounded dire. She hoped to heck it wasn’t anything to do with her grapes.
‘Rem—I can’t talk. I got grapejuice going everywhere. I’ll get Rina to call you back.’
‘Lewis!’ He was gone. She was talking to thin air.
Remy hung up, more confused than ever. She ran through her options, but there weren’t many. She didn’t want to call Seth. Rina wasn’t answering her calls. Lewis had his hands full.
She had to work this out herself. Remy knew her vineyard, and she’d been taking samples every second day for two weeks. She didn’t believe Rina’s measurement was correct. No way.
Five years ago she’d been young and naive and she’d let Ailsa scare her off. It wouldn’t happen again. She knew her own vineyard and she knew it was ready to be picked. This time, she’d stand up for herself. All she needed was a little help from her friends.
With that in mind, Remy ran out the front door to the Rodeo and went to find Zac.
***
On Friday morning, a row of cars lined the driveway beside Remy’s vineyard. They belonged to Bryce and Sheila Williams, Zac and two of his mates, along with seven-month pregnant Zac’s pregnant Clea and her husband, Levi.
They were there because they were her friends and wanted to help, except for Zac’s mates. They were doing him a favour because he’d offered them each a side of lamb for their freezers.
‘Thank you, Bryce. I owe you big time for this,’ Remy said to Zac’s dad.
Bryce jammed his hat on his head. ‘You’d do the same for us at a pinch if we needed it. Don’t worry about it.’
Sheila added, beaming: ‘It’s our pleasure.’
Remy demonstrated how to handle the secateurs and snipped off a few bunches. She showed her motley pickers where to look for the empty crates she’d already laid along the vine rows.
‘When your crate is full, leave it in the centre of the row and I’ll come along on the motorbike and pick it up, okay? Please don’t anybody hurt their back trying to lift anything that’s too heavy. Zac and I will handle it.’
Zac had donated his farm quad-bike to the cause.
‘Okay everybody? Any questions?’ She looked hard at Clea. ‘Make sure you don’t overdo things.’
‘I won’t,’ she said at the same time as Sheila added: ‘She won’t, Remy. I won’t let her. I haven’t waited this long for a grandchild for him or her to be born in a vineyard.’
‘You’re not bloody kidding,’ Bryce put in. ‘At least get over the fence, Clea, if it comes to that. Let the little bugger be born on a sheep farm or I’ll never live it down!’
They laughed and got started. They were purposeful, and they were positive. It was a good thing because Remy wasn’t feeling particularly positive at all, but contrary to her wildest dreams, the picking went well and they got through more that day than she’d thought possible.
Other than Zac’s two mates and Clea, who’d been told to take it slow, the other four fronted for work on Saturday. Clea came later to keep up the supply of coffee and tea and lunch.
Bryce complained a bit about his back, but they were in good spirits as they picked up the vineyard rows where they’d left off the night before.
Glancing skywards, Remy sent a quick prayer to the universe that the rain would stay away, and they’d get finished. No one from the universe answered, but for the moment at least the sky was clear and rain seemed a world away.
***
The Qantas flight landed midmorning Saturday in Adelaide. It was about fifteen minutes late because there’d been fog in Melbourne and flights across the country had been delayed. Seth got through the terminal fast, collected his luggage fast, and sent Rina a text to let her know he’d landed. Rina had his car and she would come pick him up.
He took his luggage out to the front of the terminal and waited. Soon enough, the Lasrey Estate black ute dodged past the taxis waiting to pick up passengers and nosed into the kerb. Seth heaved his bags in the back and opened the passenger door.
‘Howdy,’ Rina said.
‘How’s it going? Thanks for picking me up. Hope I haven’t spoiled your Saturday.’
‘Lewis is working today, it’s not a problem.’ She checked her driver-side mirror and eased out from the kerb, picking up speed.
The roads were clear and Rina was through the city, heading up Glen Osmond Road to the Freeway. By the time she pulled off at the Hahndorf exit and started driving along Onkaparinga Road, they were pretty much all caught up with what was going on for Lasrey in the West and at Montgomery here in South Australia. Rina seemed relaxed and Seth figured it was time.
‘What favours are you doing for Ailsa?’ He asked.
Rina’s hands twitched on the steering wheel and she glanced hard at him. ‘What do you mean what favours?’
‘Did Ailsa ask you to give the media that stuff about Blake?’
‘They already knew about Blake but I don’t think they put two and two together about “our” Blake being Blake Lasrey, world surfing professional. Once they knew that, they got interested real quick.’
‘I bet they did,’ Seth said, as his lip curled. ‘What else has Ailsa asked you to do for her?’
‘I’m a director, Seth. So is she. I’m happy to keep your mother informed. We talk a lot about the winery business. It would be strange if we didn’t talk.’
He pointed to his left. ‘Slow down, the driveway’s just up here.’
‘I know where the driveway is.’
‘What do you do for her? She said you know where the company’s vulnerable and you understand? What did that mean?’
‘Jesus, Seth. What is this? I don’t know. I think about the company all the time … opportunities, strengths, weaknesses, threats.’ Rina slowed the car and turned into Remy’s driveway. The second she made the turn, she crouched lower in her seat, peering over the steering wheel as Remy’s vineyard lay ahead. ‘What the hell?’
The place was buzzing. Cars lined the driveway. Remy’s Rodeo sat several metres into the vineyard paddock with the trailer-gate down. Half a dozen crates made a neat stack in the back.
Remy was on the quad-bike, guiding it out into the vineyard with a stack of empty crates roped on the back. Breeze trotted behind.
‘What does she think she’s doing?’ Rina muttered, lips zipped tight.
‘Looks to me like she’s picking her grapes.’
Rina chugged past a massively pregnant woman who was holding a flask of tea or coffee in one hand, fanning herself with her hat in the shade of the bushes near the house. He hoped to heck she wasn’t picking grapes. That baby looked like it might be born any time.
Rina had to slow to navigate the driveway, made narrower than usual by the line-up of cars at the side. When they reached the cottage, Seth got out of the car and dumped his travel bag on the front step. Rina started making sounds as if she was heading straight home. Seth wasn’t finished with her yet.
‘Hold on. I want to talk with Remy and see what’s going on.’ Seth strode toward the vineyard without looking back.
Rina called out, but he didn’t stop.
Remy’s blonde ponytail bounced as she navigated the bumps and gutters in the paddock, slower this time as she rode downhill. Those were full crates on the back.
Breeze trotted behind. He waved, and Remy deviated toward him. A beautiful big smile grew on her face and he knew something similarly goofy was spreading across his own jaw. She was magnificent, his woman. He was the luckiest man alive.
Across the vineyard, one by one, heads popped up to watch. Seth didn’t care about the audience. Let them stare.
Remy let the bike engine idle a few metres before she reached him. Once it stopped, she stood up on the pedals, took hold of his shoulders to steady herself and kissed him full on the lips, in front of everyone.
A whoop went up from the vineyard.
Remy blushed and it was so sweet, and he felt such relief to have her in his arms, he kissed her again. Slower this time, tasting sunscreen and watermelon wrapped up with heat and longing. The combination knocked the breath out of them both.
‘I’ve missed you,’ she said and he nodded, holding her close.
‘Me too. It’s scary how much.’
One by one, those curious heads in the vineyard withdrew from above the canopy and left them alone. Seth could see Rina picking her way across the paddock toward them.
‘I had to organise my own pickers, I hope you don’t mind.’ Remy said, lifting her foot over the bike so she could stand beside him.
Seth kissed her hair. ‘Why would I mind?’
‘Well, you said your team would do it. But I couldn’t get hold of anyone and Lewis said my block wasn’t on the schedule till Tuesday. Tuesday can’t be right. Plus they’re forecasting rain.’
‘The fruit’s not ready,’ Rina said, still five metres away, watching them warily.
Remy snorted through her nose. ‘I know my own vineyard and I’m telling you it is ready. It’s perfect. Here, try this.’ She reached into the crate behind the quad-bike and pulled out a bunch of grapes.
Seth picked off several berries and put them in his mouth. Flavour burst on his tongue. Lovely, balanced fruit flavours.
Seth turned to Rina. ‘We need to help Remy get this off before it rains.’
She looked away. ‘All our pickers are busy.’
‘Where?’
Rina glared at him. ‘One contractor is at Robert Linke’s place, another at Alf Flack’s, or maybe Harman’s place.
‘Those vineyards aren’t worth half what Remy’s fruit is worth to us.’
Rina stood her ground. ‘This vineyard isn’t ready.’
Seth held out the bunch of grapes. ‘Try these. Tell me they’re not ready.’
Reluctantly, Rina put two berries in her mouth. Sweet taste or not, her face was all sour. ‘I agree, this bunch is good, but that’s not to say there isn’t variability across the field. My sample average on Wednesday came in well under spec. The lab results prove it.’
‘You were here Wednesday?’ Remy interrupted.
‘Yes,’ Rina snapped, giving every bit of attitude back. ‘I did the tests myself. I wrote it all up on the whiteboard schedule. I’ve got the diary notes to prove it.’
‘Were you the one who called the ranger about Occhilupo?’
Rina hesitated a moment too long. When she realised that, she appealed to Seth. ‘Occhy wasn’t even tied up. He could have got lost. Someone might have stolen him. I was worried.’
‘Forget about the dogs, both of you,’ Seth said, as Remy went tense as a plank beside him. ‘No dog was hurt. No harm was done.’ He’d deal with that later.
‘Remy? How you going with those crates?’ Bryce called from the vineyard. ‘We need more empties.’
‘I gotta go,’ Remy said. ‘I gotta get these emptied. You sort this out. Just let me know what’s going on, okay?’ She put the quad-bike in gear, turned in a wide circle and headed for the Rodeo.
Seth turned to Rina. ‘Get this done. Make it happen.’
‘My samples said—’
‘I don’t care about your samples. You must have calibrated wrong. This fruit is perfect.’
‘Fine,’ Rina spat. ‘I’ll fix it. I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’ve always given her special treatment.’ She spun on her heel.
‘Leave my car at the winery. I’ll collect it later.’
‘Fine,’ she said.
‘Rina?’ Seth said, softer now he’d got his own way. ‘Thanks for picking me up at the airport.’
She didn’t answer.
***
Bitch. Rina’s footsteps hammered the word as she trudged toward the car.
It was that same fucking thing all over again. No matter what obstacles you put in her way, Remy always bounced back. Boing. Boing. Boing.
It wasn’t fair.
Everything she’d done for Seth over the years. All those times she’d had his back. All the overtime. All the hours. Commitment. Dedication. Loyalty.
Worth nothing because Remy was the only woman he’d ever want. Remy could do no wrong. Even near-killing a vineyard couldn’t convince Seth the girl was bad news.
Remy-bloody-Hanley/Roberts. Whoever she was.
Rina reversed out of Remy’s cottage, drove back down the driveway, navigating cars, people, quad-bikes. Fuming.
As the bonnet of Seth’s car reached the last vehicle, Rina stepped on the accelerator.
She only saw the pregnant woman at the last minute because she caught movement out of the corner of her eye as the woman waved at her from the shade. Automatically, Rina jerked the steering wheel, correcting to the left.
She saw a flash of tan and white at the edge of her vision. Then she felt and heard a bump. The flash hit her left front tyre and all Rina’s anger vanished.
She braked, and braked hard. A cloud of dust engulfed the car.
Looking in the rear-view mirror, horror filled her throat.
She could see Remy and Seth, both of them running toward her. She saw the pregnant lady with one hand clutched across her chest, pointing at the ground, white-faced.
And she saw a scrap of tan and white fur on the gravel drive. It wasn’t dead. It was moving. It might have tried to wag its tail.
Or was that the wind blowing the dog’s tail? The dust made everything hard to see?
Had she killed Remy’s dog?
Rina shoved the door open and leapt from the car.