CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country) (9 page)

“Yeah,” Lydia yanked at the nearly full canvas work bag and trudged toward the door.

Zack wiped under his nails, “Hey, didn’t you leave with a black and red shirt on? I haven’t seen this blue one.”

“Uh … I spilled salad dressing on it at lunch.”

“If I were more suspicious I’d think you’re having an affair.”

Lydia’s phone buzzed. She snapped it out of her purse. Lydia saw Nicholas’ text setting up a time for tomorrow. She couldn’t do that so soon. “Yeah, right … Work stuff.” She typed a quick response. As she tucked her phone back in her purse she asked, “Hey, did you get the mail?” She pulled opened the door to the house.

“In a little while,” Zack.

“I want to know when you’re going to do it. Nothing gets done around here unless I lead you by the nose.”

“It’s just the damn mail,” Zack said, hanging the rag on a hook.

“I’m waiting for the monthly investment summary.”

“It will be the same if we get it tomorrow.”

“I asked you to do it and you’re not. Please! Go check the mail.” the door boomed hollow when it closed.

Zack walked to the mailbox. He found a pair of bills and a raft of advertising but no investment summary. He came in and sorted everything into the appropriate spots and heard Lydia in the other room raising her voice again, directed at Grace, “Where are your glasses?”

Grace mumbled something.

Zack looked in the pantry. He sighed and reached for the spaghetti noodle box.

“Grace, did you look in your room?”

Zack put a pot of water on the stove to heat the noodles and turned the water up to boil.

Grace scampered off.

Lydia yelled after her, “I can’t believe your father isn’t helping me look for them. He should be keeping track of those glasses. I spent all my time taking you to the store.”

Zack twisted the top off a jar of spaghetti sauce to pour over the noodles when done. That with a side of green beans from a can. He walked into the living room, “Why so toxic?”

“What do you mean?” Lydia’s nostrils flared.

“You’ve got Grace running in fear and Noah is hiding in his room drawing. I don’t really want to be out here either. I felt good after getting the car maintenance done and I considered making tacos with scratch made tortillas for dinner but as soon as you rolled in you started yelling and demanding. So we’re having spaghetti and cold green beans out of the can.”

“What kind of dinner is that? I work all day and no one says thank you.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Did you get the mail?”

“Screw the mail. Yes. And the updated financial summary didn’t arrive.”

Lydia flopped on the couch, “Why can’t you keep track of our daughter’s glasses?”

“The kids need some responsibility and we have today and tomorrow to find them.”

“They could be anywhere. I spent all my time getting those glasses.”

“I know – you remind us frequently.”

“I can’t understand how, when you are home all day, nothing gets done.”

“Did you see me working on the car in the garage when you got home?”

“Is that what you were doing?”

“Yes. Changing the oil. Checking the engine over to make sure it’s still running reliably.”

“If you want to make such a big deal about it, that it’s such a hardship, why don’t you take it in to get serviced?”

“Maybe. Maybe I need something to take my mind off this constant snippy bickering you want to do.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Every time we are together you want to fight.”

“I’m exhausted with all of this.” Lydia flipped a blanket over herself.

“I have to check the noodles,” Zack left for the kitchen.

Lydia picked up her tablet computer and plugged in the ear buds.

“Kids, dinner is ready!” Zack poured the sauce from the jar over the kid’s noodles.

Lydia strolled out to the kitchen as the children sat in their chairs giggling about having spaghetti, “Why don’t you ever heat up that sauce?”

“You can microwave yours if you like. Do you think I have much enthusiasm when you dampen everything with arguments and yelling?”

Zack’s phone rang, “Hello?” He nodded, “Yes. How about in ten minutes?” He looked at the kids eating their dinner and joking with each other, “Yeah. That will work.”

“Who was that?”

“My client in Mexico wants to conference call.”

“On Saturday?”

“You had to work earlier today. It should be less than half an hour call.”

“When you have time to be with your family, you let me know,” Lydia slid her plate off the counter, went out to the living room, and ate in front of the television.

Zack wanted to remind her that the month before she sat with earphones on and the tablet. She resented that he didn’t have a regular job. She resented that when he worked he used his basement office for his video conference calls. An old desktop computer that anchored itself to his desk and the wall plug. Even if it was not an eight year old desktop computer, something modern like a laptop or tablet, he still needed to be in a separate room because of the conference call. They could see through the camera and he needed to block all the sounds of his kids. Lydia seemed to have forgotten about chasing Grace for her glasses. Grace played in her room building with her plastic mini-dolls and Noah spilled out his box of blocks and built a multi-winged fighter plane. Zack smiled at the kids who didn’t see him checking on them. He descended the stairs to his basement office.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

The mass of children hurtled out of the school. Noah ran from the building, his hair bent back from his forehead. Grace trudged along at a slower pace carrying papers and dragging her backpack.

“Noah, why are you crying?”

“I’m ok, Dad.”

“No, you better tell me.”

“Well … these older boys picked on me during extra recess today.”

“What happened?”

“I want to talk with Mom,” he wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Is she home from work yet?”

“Not yet. You can tell me you know.”

Noah nodded.

“Daddy, here’s my homework,” Grace thrust the paper at him. He took it and pulled them along to his car.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

“What happened today, Noah?” Lydia asked as she helped him into his pajamas.

His words rolled out of his mouth in a stream.

“Slow down, Noah.”

“An older boy was picking on me and shoving me.”

Lydia asked, “What are you doing to incite the bully? It has to be your fault somehow.”

“I don’t know.” he moaned.

Zack said, “Bullies attack kids they see are weak.” Zack held up his open palm to Noah, “Show me how you throw a punch. Right here at my hand.”

Noah brought his fist back.

“Don’t put your thumb in your fist.”

Lydia said, “– We don’t want the kids fighting.”

“They need to learn to fight their whole lives – whether with their fists, their voices, or their minds.” Zack patted his palm, “Put one right there.”

Noah struck his fist at Zack’s palm.

“Again. Keep your wrist straight. One continuous line from your elbow to your knuckles.”

“I asked you not to do that Zack.”

“He needs to know this.” Zack said. “Try the other fist. Good. One Two. Great. Now, Noah,” he held Noah’s arms and looked him straight in his eyes. “I want you not to take it. You fight if you have to, not first, but don’t take it.”

“But the teacher will send us to the principal’s office.”

“Yes, the teacher will. But the bully will never pick on you again.”

“I can’t do that Dad.”

“Yes you can. You have to stand up for yourself. I know it’s hard. Now go to bed.”

Lydia said, “That’s irresponsible – to teach fighting.”

“I’m not listening to you. You’re verbally bullying the kids and me all the time.”

“I am not.”

“You do! That's why we have this kind of relationship. You bully and I mostly ignore it so we get along. But as soon as I stop ignoring because I’m tired of taking it, then you start throwing punches again.”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Think about it – I’m done talking about it.”

“We’re not done.”

“Goodnight,” Zack went into the bedroom, flopped down on the bed, and went to sleep.

Lydia crossed her arms around one of the couch pillows and screamed into it, not to keep it quiet, but avoid letting Zack see how he hurt her. Then she shut the light off, yanked the blanket off the back of the couch and tried going to sleep. She could not find a comfortable spot. Her back hurt. Then she remembered why. Nick had bent her backward as he touched and licked and penetrated her. He had teased her and bent her almost to breaking. Her mind drifted.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

Lydia stalked around the corner of Nick’s bed. The hem of her blouse
floated up in her movement as she knelt by Nick’s thigh. She put the flat of her fingers along his knee and rubbed her hand back and forth feeling the warmth of his leg. She studied Nick’s expectant eyes, which emboldened her. She pushed Nick’s chest back so he lay on the bed. Her tongue compressed her lips, moistening them in a generous arc. Her hand stroked against his inner thigh and she slid her fingers along his smooth skin to his briefs in discovery. She reached over the intensity of the elastic and stroked her finger along his manhood. It yearned for her finger tips. It lifted and solidified. She touched him carefully and nudged back the elastic. She kissed and licked him. His pulse throbbed in her mouth with each pump of his heart. She massaged him again, glistening between her fingers while she climbed up on the bed and straddled his hips. She guided him into her so she faced his knees and focused on her pleasure. Nick moved his hands up to hold the sides of her hips as she moved rhythmically up and down. Her nipples puckered and her body washed in pleasure. She moved. He moved. She took. He gave. She took again and again as waves of orgasms splashed through her body. Her back arched. Rough and slow. Hot and wet. She paused allowing Nick’s throbbing inside her to back away from his own cliff. She touched herself sustaining her plateau while she waited. Fast and slow, the passion escalated. She grappled the intensity and rolled her hips deepening the motions and their effects. His body bucked against her as they climaxed in pleasure together.
Lydia lay back against the pillows pulling the worn sheet across her legs and hip. The spasms between her legs and pelvis subsided like the undulations of a pond’s surface. Satisfying and wrapped in this half memory, half dream, s
he fell asleep.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

“It’s for you,” Lydia jabbed the house phone at Zack. She whispered, her hand over the receiver, “You have to stop these late calls.”

“Hi Zack. This is Jacob Winters. I’m hoping you have a minute?”

“Yes.” Zack remembered the silver gray haired retiree with a face that butted like an arrow point, an executive that had worked on Wall Street and still lived in Manhattan.

“I have been searching for a buyer for the winery.”

“Any reason?”

“I need to get my investment back. The other investors are sitting pat. I don’t have the cash for the capital call.”

“Yours is a pretty big share, so your capital call would be huge, at least for me.”

“Yes, for me too, at the moment – too many illiquid investments so I’m pinched. That’s why I’m searching for buyers. I wanted to call and see how many of the current group might be interested in pledging their shares. I’d be happy to get out at flat to a small loss for what I got in when this started three years ago, but quite a few said they would only sell if they get a return on their investment.”

“I’d be looking for a return if getting cashed out.”

“Understandable. But you are not opposed to selling?”

“If it’s really attractive I’d say yes, but the winery is good entertainment.”

“I’m underwater as deep as any with my top floor condo, but with the stock market down I’m getting strapped for cash. I need to sell the winery shares to have money to keep the house and the wife – second wives are less forgiving of financial stumbles.”

Zack laughed to himself, maybe just the model cliché, then he said, “I’d recommend holding off. The big blending fest is the March Mixer and we don’t know how good the other wines are. I did have some success when I was out there –”

“That’s what I heard. Some members suggested doing an early release because the tests were great.”

“I think we have a few other successes in there but I won’t know until this next visit. And any competent outside investor will want to see not only the finances, which you know are bad, but taste all the wine – current and future products.”