Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 04 - Trash Out (20 page)

Once a trash out is complete
,
the house is
much
easier to sell, and a new family can move into something that no longer harbors the depressing scent of failed lives
and broken dreams. 

I repeat - professionals.
An amateur trash out is called
vandalism.

No, a trash out was too extreme, even in my current mood.
I
sucked it up, loaded more books into the car and headed to the office.  I was s
till pre-occupied with this new potential sale and the
ever-lasting
shower
when
I ran into Katherine
.
I wasn’t in the best frame of mind, the shower was expandin
g as rapidly as the wedding and
reception
and Marcia had called me three times
while I was driving with inane
questions she jolly well could have researched herself
.  

“
We
have them all set, the children will start school tomorrow, not a lot of time lost.”  Katherine said with satisfaction.

“And
his
wife will start a job soon, I’m just waiting for the
employer to call me as a reference.
”  Rosemary reported.

“
You enrolled the children in school?”
  I dropped my purse on the reception counter.

They shrugged together in unison. “All you need is an address, it’s not hard to do.  The schools are almost empty anyway, the
y
want the child and the money.”

“They are
already
paying PG&E
, we
set them up with basic cable.
” Rosemary said piously. As if she was helping the poor, but they weren’t really helping the poor as much as they were screwing the rich.

“We’re taking donations for school clothes.”
The women, a
two-person
charity program
, stared at me
pointedly.

I sighed and pulled out my wallet.

Chapter
11

Since I’m apparently not busy enough, I was assigned the task of picking up the wine and delivering it to Emily’s in time for the shower on Saturday.

I pulled into the empty parking lot of Prophesy Estates
Wednesday afternoon
. The only other car on the gravel parking area was a sleek black
M
ercedes.
I glanced at the plates, just newer California plates
. Maybe Cassandra needed a new car for her winery as well.

I shouldered my bag and marched into the winery.
The warehouse reverberated with workers shouting instructions and order
s
.
Metal banged, engines revved, brakes squealed, a long truck with the
V
-shaped bins rumbled by, a cluster of grapes spilled from the heaped top and dropped onto the patio.

I was glad we weren’t converging on
the
winery
for the shower as well.

No one manned the tasting room.
Who would she get to replace poor Fred?
Cassandra
was
only open for
private
appointments during the week
so the place was deserted
.
    

“Hello?”  I had called ahead
,
and Cassandra promised three cases of her white
for the party
.  I thought maybe the cases would just be
sitting
on the tasting counter.
  I had planned on grabbing it and heading to Ben and Emily’s.  It was not to be that easy.

I poked my head into the office.  Papers strewn across a battered Mission style desk that looked suspiciously as if it hailed from the Ben Stone collection.
I couldn’t complain, we had agreed to put most of my newer furniture in the new house and Ben could keep some of his
furniture at his grandmother’s.
But
apparently
not all of it.

Men shouted in the back. A terrible grinding noise filled the room, more shouts and the grinding stopped.

I peeked around the back door. The place was flooded with
light;
the floor was covered with water and grape seeds.
I glanced
up at the two remaining stainless tanks. The lower doors seemed secured.
Ben told me the insurance company was sending in a claims adjuster, even though it was officially an accident.  No one was happy about the possibility of a spike in the already difficult
to procure
insurance
premiums.

The back area was now off limits
.
Cassandra decreed there would be no
winemaking
tours during the wedding
reception
.  No one was particularly
disappointed
by the news.

I watched the hustle and bustle trying to
pick out the blond
e
Cassandra in the mix.  I edged into the melee.  A worker frowned in my direction but he had his hands tangled in clear tubing and was carefully
holding it high
making sure none of it touched the wet floor.

I picked my way around to the
rolling garage doors on the side of the building
.
  The grape truck was parked just outside and workers were tossing
handfuls
of grape
clusters
into the maw of a huge machine, the engine overpowered any conversation or even yelling.

I looked up and just above the stainless machine a series of struts and fretwork crossed from the tops of the tanks and extended all the way to the edge of the doors.  

They did not look terribly sturdy.

“Can you walk on
that
?”  I asked out
loud
gazing up at the two by fours.

“Technically, no, but Cassandra is light enough to go up herself. She doesn’t want anyone else to take the risk
though
.”

I started at his voice.

“Peter Klaussen O’Reilly the Third, what the hell are you doing here?”  I blurted out. 
He
may have only heard his name
because he didn’t respond to my swearing
. We often only hear our name. Like dogs.

Actually, m
y grudge against O’Reilly was fading.
A few months ago, he
had saved Ben from false imprisonment
and took care of Ben’s family, saving me from considerable embarrassment and awkwardness.  I really hadn’t seen him since. 
O’Reilly had either been laying low or he was working. And now
,
here he was again
, c
ircling around
his
former girlfriend
like the aforementioned
dog
.
He and Cassandra had been together a long time ago
,
apart for longer.  Why come around now?  He broke her
heart;
she hated him
,
yet
here he was. 

Peter was dressed casually in that he
eliminated the tie from his suit and dress shirt.
On his arm hung the ubiquitous
girl from the reception. 
Her skirt and jacket were the same style, but from different dye lots, the navy of the jacket didn’t quite match the navy of the skirt, as if she picked up the pieces from Ross or
Marshalls. 
On different days.
She wore
closed toed pumps
that
although stylish
, were
already showing wear.  I hate getting what I pay for too.

She simpered at me.
“I’m Beth, I’m going to help Peter here.”

“She’s going to help Cassandra sort out her now,” he held back a sigh
,
“
l
ate paper work.
Organization
is not one of Cassandra’s strengths.”

“But i
t
is mine.”  Beth snuggled closer to Peter.

“They also send up workers
on the cat walk
to punch down the cap.” Peter wasn’t talking to me
.

“I’m sure she sends a light person.”  Beth peered around Peter
and regarded
me, in case I didn’t understand her comment. 

I smiled.  I was not looking for a job as a cellar rat
and
I was equally uninterested in Peter Klaussen O’Reilly the
T
hird,
so her comment was immaterial.
“Taking the VIP tour?”  

“Hello!”  Cassandra,
light
and lithe, swung down from the rafters like a
pole dancer.
She was dressed to work in a white tee shirt
spattered with purple juice stains
and faded jeans
. It was
almost the
perfect sexy outfit
marred only by
those horrible
rubber clog
s my grandmother favors
.  But I suppose in this
slippery envi
ronment,
there was a need.  I
never considered shoes in terms of need
:
only want.

“Hello
Cassandra
.” I stepped forward. “I’m here to pick up the wine for the shower.”

“This is so exciting.” Beth
beat me to Cassandra and wedged herself between us.  I automatically took a step back.  Beth thrust her hand at Cassandra.
“Peter told me all about your success, how well you’re doing here.
  He couldn’t stop talking about it last
night! 
This is quite an operation! I thought I’d take a look around before I got to work, you caught me!”

Cassandra narrowed her eyes.

Satisfied,
Beth
returned to
O’Reilly
’s side
and began to
strok
e his back.
He
did not respond but
stood stiffly as Cassandra glared at him. 

“I did want to show off your place to Beth and of course to tell you how
impressed I
am that you have done
all this.”  He sounded sincere,
but Cassandra clearly didn’t believe his purported sincerity and I didn’t blame her.

“I would love to see how things work around here.” Beth coo
ed. “This is all so fascinating. And I’m sure I can help you sort out your paperwork.”

Cassandra frowned.
“Remember?”  Peter p
rodded, “I said I’d loan you my

assistant
and here she is.”

Cassandra considered the offer, then
threw up her hands and acquiesced.
“
Jose will show you around.”  She called for him in the back and he appeared quickly,
the same
attractive man with a blinding white smile
who had picked up the bodies after the tremor
.
  I wondered how Trisha Gault was fairing, I hadn’t heard or read about her condition. Either the Rivers Bend Press was slacking off or Ms. G
au
lt has some editorial influence. 
The paper did give Fred
front
page
coverage.  I couldn’t even read the article, it was too sad. 

Cassandra gestured to the couple. “Can you give
them the VIP tour like we
discussed?”  To the happy couple she explained
,
“
I do ask you two to be careful,
we don’t want any more accidents.”

“Would it shut you down if there were more accidents?” Beth asked.

“Damn straight.
”
Peter muttered
,
but I don’t think Beth heard.

Jose gestured for them to follow him.
Cassandra watched the happy couple troop off to inspect
the mechanics and machinations of a real working winery.
She seemed edgy, as
well she should be, what with a wedding in two weeks,
the red still to
crush and
most of her white destroyed
.  I felt on edge on her behalf.  And I was just hosting the dreaded shower.

“As if he’s never seen
how it’s done
.” Cassandra put her hands on her hips and watched the couple disappear.

“Maybe Beth is interested.”
I did not know how sophisticated Cassandra was in matters of the heart, but Beth was really hamming it up for Cassandra’s benefit. And Peter wasn’t exactly brushing off the girl.
I waited for Cassandra to stop gazing at Peter’s back
,
then
reminded her
about
the wine.

“Sorry. It’s over there.” She pointed to three cases by the far wall and
headed back to
the huge stemmer/crusher.

I sighed and lifted the first case, at least the bottom wasn’t damp.  I balanced the
thirty-pound
box on my hip and carefully walked back outside to the car.  No one stopped me
and
no one offered to help. 

I passed by
O’R
eilly and his
unlikely
lady companion
. They
were
quietly
watching the last of the
grapes
get tossed
into a stemmer crusher that would
efficiently
separate out the stems
from the grapes and partially crush the grapes.
Clear
juice
, skins and some stems
t
umbled into big bins
for the first fermentation.  The skins would give the wine color and eventually fall to the bottom of the barrel or the bin.  What
was
left would be pre
ssed out. The only time you actually stomp grapes
is
for a promotion or to show off.

Beth stood perfectly still, her eyes followed the process of dumping, turning, grinding.  She tiptoed and tried to look over the top of the crusher, but she was too short. One of the workers shooed her away.

“Too dangerous, back
,
miss
, that screw can really mess up your hands
.”

Not interested in saving his new love interest from an accidental maiming,
O’Reilly
wandered
away to the stacks of wine barrels
that surrounded a long oak table
.