California Wine (9 page)

“It doesn’t seem to make sense, does it?” Annie twirled her pasta onto her fork, but didn’t raise the utensil. “Then again, I know in corporations there can be a lot of pilfering of office supplies, especially around back to school time.” She shrugged. “It’s just not something I would even consider.”

“Me either,” Elizabeth said. “I guess I’m disappointed. I gave her a chance. She didn’t know anything about beauty products, or even retail sales when I hired her. And this went way beyond pilfering!” She stabbed a shrimp on her plate and stuffed it into her mouth.

Annie raised her eyebrows. “Wow … you are upset.”

Elizabeth glared at her, chewing rapidly. No matter how angry she was, talking with her mouth full was not going to happen.

“Now that you’ve let her go, what are you going to do?” Annie asked. “I mean, how are you going to take time off when Marcos shows up — I can’t wait to meet him!” Annie ate the spaghetti she’d been toying with.

“I’ve got bigger problems than Marcos. And besides, who says I’m going to let him meet you?” She smiled at Annie to take the sting out of her words.

Annie frowned. “Of course you’re going to introduce us. I’m your best friend and he could turn out to be the love of your life.”

Elizabeth laughed. “He lives in Italy.”

“You keep trying to use that as an excuse, but I’m not buying it,” Annie said.

The comment stopped Elizabeth short. Was she using distance as an excuse? Well, no matter, she had another one.

“I don’t have time for a man. I’ve got products to launch and make world famous. That’s going to take all my energy.” She took a sip of wine. “I’m applying for a bank loan, Annie. A big one. My financial records have to be in top shape and right now they’re a mess. I’m afraid the bank won’t give me the money to expand.”

“What happens if they don’t give you the loan?”

Elizabeth’s stomach turned over. She hadn’t really considered the possibility. But what if the bank wouldn’t give her the money she needed to launch her line?

“I don’t know.”

“Can you ask Bobby?”

Elizabeth put down her wine glass. Bobby had been her financial advisor for a long time and they were still on friendly terms. “I’ll have to think about that. I’m worried that Bobby will want to control the business, just like he tried to control everything else in my life.”

Annie toyed with her spaghetti again. “You’ve got a point, but sometimes you have to take a risk to get what you want in business.” She pointed her fork directly at Elizabeth and added, “Or in love.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re nuts about John.”

“Could be.” Annie smiled and finally ate a forkful of spaghetti.

Annie glowed and Elizabeth found it bittersweet to watch. Elizabeth wanted the joy Annie had found, but what if the next guy was exactly like Bobby? She needed to create her own life, not someone else’s.

She stared at the river. Two seagulls tussled over a clam one had dug up. The birds fought as if afraid they’d never see another meal. She knew the feeling.

“So what are you going to do?” Annie asked. “About Lara, I mean.”

“I’ve put an ad on Craig’s List. The only way I’ll be able to pull this off is with help. I can’t do it alone. And I’m going to work like crazy on the finances to get them in shape. I see a lot of sleepless nights ahead of me.”

“Why the rush?” Annie pushed her empty plate to one side.

Elizabeth put a stray hair behind her ear. “Do you think I’m moving too fast?” All she knew was that she wanted her vision to be a reality as soon as possible. If she could wave a magic wand and make it all happen, she would.

“Maybe. What does the coach say?”

“We haven’t really talked about it. So far she’s got me writing in a journal every morning.”

“I hated my journal,” Annie said.

Elizabeth nodded. “Me, too. But did it help?”

Annie sipped her wine. “I think so. All I know is I’m a lot happier now. I’ve got John and a new career.”

“How’s the singing going?” Elizabeth asked.

Annie smiled. “I think I’ll be ready for my opening in the spring. John keeps reminding me the first stop is Ocean Reads.”

“Well, I guess I better keep writing in my journal,” Elizabeth said.

“And talk to the coach about the product line.”

“Dessert?” Mandy, their regular waitress asked. “The chef made a chocolate flourless torte. He’s calling it ‘No Regrets.’”

“Of course,” Annie and Elizabeth said together.

“How are you today?” Carol asked after Elizabeth picked up the phone.

“Really?” Elizabeth stared at her kitchen floor.

“I always want the truth.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Confused.”

“Tell me more. Confused about … .”

“Everything. Even though I’ve been writing pretty much every day, I still don’t know what to do about Marcos. Annie thinks I’m rushing into my product line. And then there’s my assistant Lara. She was stealing from me and I had to fire her.”

“Sounds like a lot is going on.”

“What should I do?” Elizabeth couldn’t see how the coach was helping. Her assignments only seemed to make things worse.

Carol laughed. “Very rarely do coaches tell you what to do. We’d rather help you figure it out for yourself.”

“When then, help!”

Carol’s laugh grew bigger. “Okay. Let’s take the simplest thread. Lara. How do you feel about firing her?”

“Terrible. I should have given her another chance. I couldn’t prove she was stealing.”

“What does your gut say?”

Elizabeth considered the question. “I believe she was.”

“You’re the only person you need to satisfy,” Carol said.

Elizabeth propped her chin on her hand and studied the kitchen window. “But what if she sues me?”

“What if?”

“I’ll have to prove it to someone then.”

“Yes, you will. But that’s then. How did you handle the firing?”

Elizabeth told her about her conversation with her human resources consultant and how the conversation had gone with Lara. “I wish I knew if I did it right.”

“You did the best you could. That’s all any of us can do.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Not according to my mother. Perfection was the only acceptable way to be.”

“Now we’re coming to the heart of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell me more about your mother’s perfectionism.”

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and picked at the edge of the linen placemat on the table. “I couldn’t do anything right. Even when I was a kid and got dressed in the morning, she always changed something — even a little thing like the barrette I wore — and said, ‘There, that’s better.’”

“Pretty demanding. And then when you got pregnant … .”

“She blew a gasket,” Elizabeth said. She could still see her mother standing in front of her, screaming half in Italian and half in English. Finally, Elizabeth had burst into tears and run to her room, shamed with her mother’s disappointment. “After that I really couldn’t do anything right. She even corrected everything I did with Sarah, especially after Joe died. My mother adored Joe, even though he was as responsible for the pregnancy as I was.” Elizabeth heard the bitterness in her own voice.

“A bit of a double standard.”

“Yes.”

“And now that she’s gone?”

“I still can’t please her.” Elizabeth straightened up at her own words. “That’s it, isn’t it? I’m still trying to please her and I know it will never happen.”

“So … ” the coach prompted.

“So … ” The memory of Lara’s contorted face came to mind. She’d had the same disgust as Elizabeth’s mother had had. “So I try to please other people, hoping that somehow it will satisfy my mother. Of course it never will, because, because … ” Elizabeth’s chin began to tremble and tears slipped down her face. “She’s dead,” Elizabeth whispered before her tears became sobs.

She cried like she had when she told her mother she was pregnant. Once again, the disappointment crashed around her. Nothing Elizabeth was able to do would ever please her mother and the weight of the responsibility crushed her. How would she ever get past it?

After the sobs subsided she croaked, “Are you still there?” into the phone.

“Yes. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Carol replied. “You’ve reached a great understanding.”

“But what am I going to do about it?” Elizabeth heard her voice begin to shake again.

“More assignments, I’m afraid,” the coach said.

“Of course.” Elizabeth’s shaky voice turned to laughter.

“Whenever you do something that you think is wrong, I want you to be gentle with yourself. Remember you are a human being and no one on this planet is perfect, although there are some who think they are. And, every morning in your journal, I want you to begin with the words, ‘I am good enough for today.’”

“I think I can do that. But what about my product line?”

“Do you know how to get your numbers back in shape and prepare a business plan for the bank?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Then go do it.”

“But, what if — ” Elizabeth stopped herself from saying the words “not good enough.”

“I see a glimmer of understanding,” Carol said.

• • •

Marcos thrummed his fingers on the table. What could he say to Elizabeth? Even if there weren’t an ocean and continent between them, he didn’t know her very well. But already he knew he wanted more, more than he’d had with any other woman lately.

He studied the painting over his desk, an inheritance from his mother: Europa driving her bulls, fiery hair streaming behind her. His mother had given it to him to remind him that women had power of their own.

Too bad his ex-wife’s power had been controlling and manipulative.

He interlaced his fingers and flexed them, producing a satisfying release in his knuckles. While Elizabeth hadn’t said much about her husband or former boyfriend, Marcos had the feeling neither encouraged her to develop her own strength. He would need to tread delicately. Letting a woman know she was cherished, yet letting her run free was a difficult line to walk.

“
Ciao, bella
,” he typed. He stared back at the painting. Now what to say? He drummed his fingers on the desk.

“I have wondered how you are doing with your new business idea. Has a bank given you a loan yet? Here in Italia, banks are very difficult …

Marcos warmed to his subject, describing his difficulties over the years with the Italian banking system.

“It is mid-September already and I have already begun my harvest with pinot grigio. The grapes are very sweet this year. It must have been your presence in my vineyard that made them so. If the grapes continue to ripen like they have, I will be able to get the bulk of the harvest done before mid-October.

“Would you be able to be free then to show me some of the vineyards in Santa Cruz? I have been doing some research and … ”

Marcos stopped typing to reflect on his next words. He didn’t want to push her into anything she didn’t want to do. He was probably crazy, trying to develop a relationship with someone who lived in California. Distance could be breached; the heart, not so easily.

“ … I believe you are right,”
he continued typing.
“The mountain area provides an opportunity for good land at a decent price. There are even pockets that will grow cabernet, which is what I need to fill in my vineyard portfolio.”

He smiled. Everyone liked to be right.

He scanned the letter. Was he overdoing it by implying she was responsible for the sweetness of his grapes? No. He would let it stand. Maybe it would only make her laugh. If he was lucky, warmth would touch her.

“Your friend, Marcos.”

He took a deep breath and clicked, “Send.”

He spent the next hour catching up on his correspondence. He was halfway through a long email to his daughter in Milan when he noticed a reply from Elizabeth. Quickly, he saved the note to his daughter and opened Elizabeth’s.

“Hello, Marcos,”

Not good. A formal beginning.

“It’s good to hear from you. I enjoyed your descriptions of the banks and I’m glad to hear your harvest is doing well.”

Very bad. Almost ice-cold.

“I’ve had some set-backs in my plans. I discovered my employee was stealing from me.”

Marcos read the story of Lara with interest. Dealing with employees could be difficult. They didn’t want the same things an owner wanted from the business. But stealing from a woman as nice as Elizabeth! This was outrageous.

“Unfortunately, until I get a replacement, I can’t guarantee that I will be able to spend time with you. I’ll know more as time grows closer. I’ll keep you informed.

“Thanks again for the time in Italy. It will be a treasured memory.

“Elizabeth.”

Marcos leaned back in his chair and flexed his fingers. She’d been through a rough time. Tomorrow he would find the skin shop she liked so much and send her a treasure.

• • •

“What do you mean I’m not qualified for a loan?” Elizabeth asked the bank manager in front of her a week later. The young woman was dressed in a conservative blue suit pressed within an inch of its life. A brass button pinned to her lapel announced, “Hi, I’m Amy!”

The softer side of banking.

“You’ve done really well,” Amy said. “So many businesses aren’t in the black in this economy.”

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and pasted a smile on her face. Leaning forward in what she hoped was an engaging posture, she asked, “If I’m in the black, why can’t I have a loan?”

Amy clutched Elizabeth’s loan application. “The ratios don’t support it. You know that lending is very tight right now. Banks don’t have the money to lend and so … ”

Where was the money the government had given banks … the money we gave them?
Elizabeth’s mind numbed during the rest of the canned speech the bank manager handed out in lieu of cash.

Elizabeth gathered up her papers as Amy came to the end of her explanation. Snatching the loan application from the bank manager’s tight fingers, Elizabeth wished the woman a good day and strode out the door. Damn if she was going to let a barely-out-of-college twerp ruin her day.