Take Me Higher (11 page)

The moment had come for James to tell Syrah just how bad things were at Ruy Blas. It pained him even to think that Caleb and Paula would behave in such a manner. But they were and Syrah had to know how rough things were getting. He found it difficult to look her in her eyes because he knew how the news would hurt her and could hardly bear to see her so pained.

‘Caleb and Paula have hired thugs to vandalise Ruy Blas. They tried to wreck vineyard equipment, break down fences, have broken into and torched the small house on the vineyard, in an attempt to convince you what a burden the place is going to be for you. Henri Chagny, Bob Kidd and I caught two of the men in the act. Before we ran them off the vineyard, Bob made them confess who had hired them and why. We also learned that they’ll be back. To quote one of them: “To finish the job a little bit at a time until Mr Richebourg calls us off.” Ruy Blas now has a twenty-four-hour security system, armed men – old friends taking it on a rota, alarms and flood lights.’

‘Did you call the police?’ was all Syrah could think to say.

‘Had the sheriff down. It seems we shouldn’t have let the hired vandals go. Unless you want to press charges on Caleb there’s not much the police can do now. Chevy Brown and I went to school together, he’s on our tribal council. He has no love for Caleb but works strictly by the book. Chevy’s best suggestion was to try and settle it between you and Caleb before someone gets hurt. Until then he’ll have a squad
car run by Ruy Blas on their nightly cruises.’

‘Caleb’s playing dirty … that it should come to this! How they must hate me. How desperate they must be. I’ll not press charges but I certainly will fight him off my land,’ a despondent Syrah told James.

‘You see why I can’t stay the night with you? Something that I long to do. But I must get back to the Valley. I don’t like being far from your vineyard with all that’s going on. It will all be different once you’re settled into the Valley. It’s then we can think of ourselves. But first there’s a great deal to settle, not only for you but for me as well.’

Syrah sensed a sadness in James, something deep and personal. He had obviously decided this was not the time or the place to discuss it with her. Not for the first time in the short while they’d been together Syrah sensed a certain hesitation in James. There was a shadow between them, but rather than confront whatever it was she was trusted him enough to ignore it. She would wait for him to speak to her about that shadow, whenever and
if
ever he wanted to.

They rose from their chairs and walked into each other’s arms to kiss. That seemed to strengthen them for whatever was to come. While they were still in a loving embrace, the phone began to ring. It went on for several rings before Syrah released herself from James to go and answer it. It was not for her but for James.

‘Someone called Direnda Silverfeet for you.’ And she handed the telephone over.

Syrah listened to the conversation but could glean little from it. She watched James, studied his handsome good looks, the proud bearing of pure American Indian blood that ran through his veins. The long dark hair, fine cheekbones, handsome sensuous lips. The long, slender, broad-shouldered body. She believed herself to be the luckiest woman in the world because he loved her.

James put down the telephone and turned to face Syrah. ‘Direnda Silverfeet is a friend from childhood. Her family are wine people. She runs a wine magazine and is au fait with what’s going on in the California wine world. She has just come from an interview with Caleb and Paula and thought I should know she is running a three-page story on their plans for the future of Richebourg-Conti. She wasn’t for a minute fooled about why she had been offered the interview. Too much gossip about their losing Ruy Blas, the multi-million pound cellar also left to you,
Ethan’s death and what it would mean to Richebourg-Conti. Word of their debts and their desperate need to replant is out and its bad for business. Caleb and Paula no longer have time on their side so they gave the interview to detract from their problems by making public their expansion plans with Ira Rudman. Property development that will change the face of the Valley is big on their agenda, almost bigger than their plans to expand the vineyards of Richebourg-Conti.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Syrah.

‘A bigger fight to save the Valley, more people to fight off their expansion plans. Ira is a ruthless wheeler-dealer who has money and power, political friends in high places. But so have the wine people in the Valley. The newspapers are sure to pick it up before Direnda can get her magazine out but she wanted me to know immediately. She called Henri and he gave her your number. She’ll be a great ally.’

Syrah wanted to drive James to the airport but he did not allow her to do that. ‘I would rather you didn’t. A public goodbye is more than I can handle.’ She knew exactly what he meant for she had the same feelings about their parting. Instead she called for a taxi and followed it as it backed up her drive to turn into the main highway where it vanished amidst the evening traffic.

Now that Syrah’s mind was made up about what she wanted to do vis-à-vis her legacy and her life, the first step was to talk to Keoki. It was after all his life at stake as well as hers. But unable to do that until the following day, she called Diana to tell her the news about the love that had blossomed between James and herself, her plans to leave Malibu as soon as possible. The two women were ecstatic about the changes Syrah was going to make in her life.

She made two other calls: one to her lawyer and the other to a friend who was a top real estate broker. Syrah told her the house must be sold as soon as possible. With the wheels set in motion she went to her room, took a long leisurely bath in almond-scented bath bubbles, then climbed into bed between the cream-coloured Pratesi sheets edged with ecru-coloured lace. Her last thought before she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep was, What luxury! So long to such indulgences. Well, for the next few years anyway.

At eleven the following morning, Syrah was still asleep. Melba
Morissey wakened her with a cup of tea, her favourite Earl Grey. She opened the curtains and the sun streamed into the bedroom.

‘What time is it?’ Syrah asked her housekeeper.

‘You’re going to be furious, it’s eleven o’clock. I came in at eight and you were sleeping so soundly I left you to it. Keoki came in at ten and decided to let you sleep on. Now it’s eleven and you’ve slept long enough. You must have been mighty tired, Syrah. You were asleep by the time I arrived last night to make your dinner.’

‘Oh, so much has happened. Where is Keoki? I must talk with him.’

‘He’s down on the beach with the next-door neighbour’s kids. Have some breakfast first. You can talk to him afterwards,’ suggested Melba, who was as usual right.

An hour later, feeling fresh and with her energy high, Syrah looked through the messages Melba had taken. Mostly creditors dunning her for money. For the first time she no longer felt overwhelmed by the position she found herself in. She had set the wheels in motion, had a plan, knew at last where she was going and what she intended to do. Syrah put them aside and went down to the beach to find her son.

Keoki was just coming out of the ocean. On seeing his mother he broke away from the group of boys he had been swimming with and ran to join her, waving his arms above his head. Together mother and son walked along the nearly deserted beach, he playfully dashing in and out of the waves breaking on to the sand.

‘Keoki, you are a clever boy. You must be aware that things are not as good as they were before Ethan died. No matter how I tried to shield you from what’s going on, I sensed you understood my problems,’ she bravely told her son.

‘Our problems, Mom,’ was his reply as he grasped her hand.

‘Let me put it to you as simply as possible. There are only two options open to us. Either I sell our legacy and carry on living off that money in the style to which we are accustomed, or at least until the money runs out, which might be sooner than I’d hope because I have so many debts that have to be paid off. Or we sell everything we own, keep the legacy and I work the vineyard and the wine cellar. If we do the first nothing changes. If we do the second we will be vine and wine rich but cash poor and have to make many sacrifices in our lifestyle, work like demons and move to the vineyard. You must understand how really poor we
will be when I have cleared our debts. The luxurious life we have been living will be over.

‘Keoki, the last thing in this world I want to do is let you down. Give you less than you have always had. Tear you away from the fun and carefree life I have always been able to give you. But the real world has crashed in on us and we have to deal with it. That’s why we’re having this talk, you must have a say in what we do with our lives now.’

He squeezed his mother’s hand, jumped up and gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek even as they were still walking. It was that little gesture that brought them to a halt. The tide was coming in and the water surging on to the sand covered their bare feet.

‘Mom, what do
you
think we should do? What option do you think we should go for?’ asked the boy.

Still holding hands, Syrah led her son away from the water’s edge to sit on the dry hot sand. They faced the ocean and watched the tide roll in for several minutes before she cleared her throat and confided in her son.

‘Keoki, Ethan’s death and its consequences have had a profound effect on me. It has made me feel differently about the way we have been living. The legacy that he has left us was totally unexpected. It has presented us with a challenge, finding another way to live. It has given me something to work for, for us, in memory of his trust and generosity, his love for us.’

Syrah’s voice began to quaver. Unconsciously she began wringing her hands. She felt herself breaking down but struggled on, ‘I know I have been a good mother to you and that you love me, but I have let you down by not being more clever about work and money in the past. Now I have to sell our house, destroy our lifestyle, take you away from a school you love and your friends. I have decided to keep our legacy, work it, build on it for our future. I want to sell off everything here in Malibu, all our possessions, and move to the Valley, to live on the vineyard. But there is a way you can stay here and live, possibly more frugally. An alternative solution for you, darling, could be that you live with Diana in the week, and you and I could be together on weekends and your holidays.’

The boy was shocked by the suggestion. Tearful as much for his mother’s anguish as for himself, he told her, ‘Losing my grandfather
will take me a long time to get over, but an arrangement where I might lose you for days on end … I might never get over that, Mom. No! We move to the vineyard together. I’ll go to school and work on the vines in my spare time. I’ll make new friends and bring my old ones up for holidays, and I can come back here and stay with them. We’ll just shift gears, Mom. I’ll think of it as an adventure. How many boys do you think there are who have their own vineyard
and
a mom with her own plane? The plane! Can we save your plane or must that go too?’

‘No, that’s about all we will be able to salvage. We’ll have to make it work for us, rent it out or compete at air shows with it. Who knows? Even join a flying circus.’

‘You see, life won’t be so bad for us, Mom!’

Chapter 9

Melba had been watching Syrah and Keoki when they walked together down the beach. Syrah need not have said anything; her behaviour at breakfast had been more positive than it had been since Ethan’s demise. Her body language said it all. The moment of truth had come and she was facing it and confiding in her son.

Melba knew she was next to be told how bad things were for Syrah and what she had decided to do about it. Melba did, of course, know most of it already. The creditors and that horrible visit from Caleb, the way Syrah was treated by her brother and sister-in-law, left little to the imagination. She would have had to be deaf and blind not to hear and see what was going on. And there was the legacy, Syrah had told her about that. There were in fact few things that employer and employee did not confide in each other. That was the way of their relationship.

In the kitchen the housekeeper decided on spare ribs and rice with lots of cooked greens, Keoki’s favourite. She looked at her wristwatch and started the meal. The boy was always ravenous by half-past twelve and Melba was meticulous about timing. The scent of barbecued spare ribs filled the house. On hearing Syrah and Keoki bounding up the stairs that led from the beach to their sun deck, she dropped the spring greens into boiling salted water just long enough for mother and son to get to the kitchen and the greens to be blanched.

Keoki and Syrah arrived just as the platter of ribs was being placed on the table. ‘Right on time but what glum-looking faces,’ she declared.

‘Smells terrific, my favourite!’ said Keoki.

Syrah marvelled at how quickly children bounce back from traumatic events. ‘We have to talk, Melba,’ she told her housekeeper.

‘Not until dessert. I’m not having my meal ruined,’ she answered cheekily.

The pudding, home-made cherry ice cream, was duly served. The attempt to keep cheerful for the meal was now abandoned. Syrah said, ‘Keoki, would you mind having ice cream somewhere else? I’d like to explain everything to Melba.’

The boy rose from his chair and went around to Melba to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘You can’t fool me, you made me my favourite meal because you thought I needed something to take away the sting Mom has just delivered. Listen, you two, I’m no baby, I can roll with the punches.’ And he walked away, spooning ice cream into his mouth.

Syrah saw no need to hide any of the facts of what was happening in her life and explained everything in detail: how her income had been cut off by Caleb, the rift between them, her legacy, that she was debt-ridden and unable to maintain the lifestyle they had all enjoyed so much and naively thought would go on forever. That it was over.

‘Melba, I’m poor, without money and unable to raise any to live off. We have been living from hand to mouth since my father’s death. I am so flat broke I can’t even afford to keep you on. You will have to find another position,’ Syrah told her housekeeper, then burst into sobs.

Appalled, Melba sat silently, not knowing what to say. Finally she went to a kitchen drawer and drew from it a white linen napkin. She handed it to Syrah with the comment, ‘Best wipe up those tears, Syrah, they’ll get us nowhere.’

The housekeeper pulled her chair closer. ‘Oh, stop it, girl! I know these are terrible times for you – that’s the way of this cruel world and there’s not much you can do about it except give survival the best shot you can. OK, you made your decisions, you’re being courageous. But, girl, you got to take account of the fact you know nothing of what it is to work, to be rock bottom poor and looking for where your next meal is coming from. We sure do know you’re ignorant about money, know nothing about business, and most of all what your life would be like without Melba to care for you and Keoki,’ she told Syrah, the blunt reality of her words brought tears to her own eyes and stained her cheeks. The two women hugged each other for comfort.

Melba wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand before she spoke. ‘Believe me, I know about destitute. That was where I was when you took in me and my fifteen-year-old son, gave me a job and us both a home. I’m going nowhere and certainly not looking for another
job. We’ll weather this disaster together. Make no mistake, you’ll need me more than ever now you’re going to be a working mother.’

‘But there’s no money to pay your wages, Melba,’ protested Syrah, by then wracked with guilt that she should have to turn her housekeeper out.

‘Money doesn’t come into it, Syrah. We can settle when you have it, and have it I am certain you will. God will favour you, he always has. No! Don’t argue. Remember, Syrah, money didn’t come into it when you put my son through university and graduate school. No more protests, please. I’ll be moving with you from our old Malibu life to our new Napa Valley life. And that’s final.’

The next few weeks were a horrifying experience for Syrah who was unused to the grim reality of having to sell off her possessions, and have the banks grab every penny from her assets to reduce her loans and mortgage; having to account to the tax man for her every financial move also. Not able to bear to put Keoki through the trauma of seeing their home vanishing, piece by piece, to greedy dealers she had naively thought to be friends, she begged him to stay at Diana’s house until they were ready to move to the vineyard. Her paintings, all contemporary and by big names in the international art world, were bought for a fraction of their true worth. Her many so-called friends, knowing her situation, drove hard bargains for her possessions. More sensitive friends vanished overnight the moment her hard times became public.

At night, alone in her bed, she was sustained by love for her dead father and the very much alive James whom she was certain was shaping a new life for himself, as she was working on her own, so they might come together as the lovers they were meant to be. James’s phone calls gave her courage to wait for him to claim her for his own on a more permanent basis than love and friendship from afar. They hardened her to do all she must to win through to a new life.

None of what was happening was easy. Everything seemed more traumatic than she’d expected. It hurt more than Syrah had ever imagined it would, this disposal of a life that had been such a happy one for her and Keoki. She was selling off pieces of their life, not mere possessions. It was depressing and somehow frightening to be stripped down to a nakedness of the heart and soul, of life itself. She had never
envisaged how ugly it could get, how cruel people could be in the name of debt, money, the demon power. There were times when she felt she was drowning, being sucked down into murky water. But through it all there was Ruy Blas, a beacon to swim towards.

The stress was almost unbearable but she bore it with fortitude, only worrying about Keoki and how much he was suffering from the move. On the surface he appeared to be handling things better than his mother. But was he? She spoke often to James about it and because Syrah was so concerned, he decided to fly down for a day to have lunch at Diana’s where Syrah, Melba and Keoki were now staying, the Malibu house having been sold. Syrah saw her son’s face light up when she told him, ‘James is coming for lunch to tell us what it will be like living in the Napa Valley.’

Willoughby was never happier than when Keoki and Syrah were staying with Diana. The house seemed to come alive, was filled with laughter and good times. Having Melba as a guest was an extra bonus, a challenge for him. The two housekeepers were always trying to outdo one another with their hospitality, great cooking and brilliant organisation. But the Richebourg household on this particular visit was downright glum and it was hard work to please any of them. They had been there for nearly two weeks when Diana announced that a visitor was flying down for lunch. For the first time their spirits seemed to lift. Keoki talked to Willoughby about James Whitehawk, said that he was a Californian Indian, how great he’d been to Keoki at the funeral.

Syrah listened to her son. Though she’d known when Keoki and James had met that they had taken to each other, she had not realised how much her son had liked James. It raised her spirits, and that was picked up by Diana and Melba.

It was all so easy, so right, the way James slipped instantly into Syrah’s life that day. He had an immediate rapport with both Diana and Melba, and as for Keoki, he was the son James had never had, a part of the woman he had always loved. He already loved the boy as his own.

Lunch was served by the pool and so it was there that they all sat round drinking long cool drinks before they were called to the table. James was clearly besotted with Syrah, could hardly keep his eyes off her for a minute. It was the warmth and charm he exuded towards them without trying to win them over that endeared him to them. Diana saw
him as a part of their lives forever. Keoki was slightly in awe of him as a grown man and new friend. Melba simply saw him as something more than any man Syrah had ever got involved with before.

‘Tell us what it’s like to live in the Valley, James? I know the place, of course. I was after all born there. But I never lived there except on weekends and holidays sometimes. I was always there for Christmas dinner, but that’s not living there, is it? I’m thinking of it as a big adventure. It is an adventure, isn’t it?’ asked Keoki.

‘I think that’s a good way to think of life in the Napa Valley. It’s my home, has been my family’s home for hundreds of years, your family, too, have been there for many generations, so I think you will take to it. It will be like coming home once you have settled in. I really came down to give you all a more comprehensive picture of the Napa Valley wine world with its hard work, competitiveness, passion for the grape and the land, the politics of wine and the skulduggery that is sometimes practised in the trade. You have to know about those things because that’s life in the Valley.’

‘How fascinating. I grew up with that sort of life going on all round me and have forgotten so much of it. It seems that yet again I’m jumping in at the deep end, unprepared for the job ahead of me,’ commented Syrah.

‘Maybe unprepared but you’ll learn fast. Word is out that you are moving into Ruy Blas and plan to work your vineyard. It would be good for you all to remember that you have ready-made friends awaiting your arrival in the Valley. Just like me, they’re committed to helping you in any way they can. They are other small vineyard owners, real wine men, disenchanted with Caleb and Paula who have been going up against them with Ira Rudman. Trying to buy them out at a fraction of their vineyards’ true value during these hard times.’

Keoki, standing next to James’s chair, listened attentively to every word he uttered. The boy looked troubled. James reached for his hand and pulled him down to sit next to him. Keoki leaned against James who placed an arm round his shoulders.

‘Don’t look so troubled. I know your mom, she’s a Richebourg, cut from the same cloth as her father. She’ll go up against Paula and Caleb with the other vineyard owners who are fighting to save the Napa Valley for wine. And you both have me.’

‘Why are the vineyards having such a hard time?’ asked Diana.

‘Vineyards work on the edge. They’re always at the mercy of the elements and of root disease which has hit the Napa Valley very badly for the last few years. Then they have to go up against the Ira Rudmans of this world who are buying every parcel of land in the Valley for development that is sure to ruin the area. Vital, rich land that the small growers need for expansion is being sacrificed to greed. They have no chance to save themselves because Ira can pay more, wheel and deal with authorities and investors. He wants to turn the valley into hotels and condos. Buy a great winery for his ego and achieve international acclaim in the wine world. He is a dilettante who wants to buy a wine dynasty, a gentleman’s business, and remove himself from the stigma of being a ruthless tenement landlord. Syrah has said no to Caleb and Paula. No to Ira. But Ira will not give up, so be warned.’

None of this was easy for Diana to hear. She had been cushioned by her passion for Ira and had never listened to what people had said about him. Now it was over for them, she no longer felt the pain of losing the man she had once loved beyond measure, but she was yet again appalled by Ira’s tactics and greed. How the man had been swallowed up by those things he was obsessed with and his lust for personal power.

‘Ira is a ruthless predator whom we must all approach with caution,’ James warned. ‘The only thing that will save all our small, prestigious, vineyards is if wine people, not realtors, back each other till the vineyards revive from the crippling root disease and reach a gentleman’s agreement against selling out to Ira Rudman or any others like Richebourg-Conti who are in cahoots with him.’

Keoki, still snuggled against James, listened intently and commented, ‘It doesn’t sound dull in the Napa Valley. And my mom is going to be in the middle of this?’

‘I sure am!’ replied Syrah, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes.

Keoki sat up and looked at James. ‘My mom always rises to a challenge, you should see her in an air show,’ he said proudly.

Everyone laughed. All of them could attest to that. How could they have forgotten what Syrah could be like? Her courage and bravado. Too many disasters falling upon her one after the other, her sudden aloneness had made them forget who and what she was in herself. How strong a woman she could be, and would be in adversity. A nine-year-old
boy had jolted those sitting round his mother into the realisation that they were all about to follow Syrah once again into an adventure. To her boy in his innocence the collapse of the world he lived in was an adventure, not destitution.

‘Oh, darling,’ Syrah said, with a look of pride and love for her son.

It was a touching moment. Syrah broke the spell when she announced, ‘We simply have to go up against Ira.’

‘That takes money, a great deal of money,’ cautioned James.

‘I have a great deal of money and I’d like to invest it,’ said Diana. ‘I’ll bankroll the vineyards in trouble with an investment of $4.5 million. You will be able to challenge Ira for as long as my money holds out on condition that I remain a silent and very secret investor. As long as the vineyard owners agree to put up their vineyards and wine as security, and they and my investment consultants can come to an agreement on advantageous interest rates and a time scale, I see no problem.’