Entangled Read Free

returned.”
    “How strange.” If I hadn’t been looking
directly at him I wouldn’t have caught the flash of cynicism that
crossed Handel’s face, immediately replaced with a polite smile as
he shook his head. “But it sounds like Jack. Always the perfect
host. He might have forty people scheduled for a wine tasting and
he’d just disappear. If it weren’t for the terrific staff, the
place would be bankrupt by now.”
    I watched his eyes light up when he spoke of
Jack and the winery, and wondered what their relationship entailed
other than attorney/client. Were they friends, or just
acquaintances? “How long did you know Jack?” I asked.
    He pushed the hair back from his forehead.
“As long as I can remember. He and my father were friends since
high school. My folks worked for the previous owner of the winery
and then my father continued to work for Jack when he purchased it.
I must have been about ten when I started doing odd jobs around the
place. As a teenager I helped harvest the grapes. After I graduated
from law school Jack insisted that I be his personal attorney,
although I specialize in criminal law.”
    “You worked only for Jack?”
    He raised one brow, a look that would be
considered condescending without the smile that accompanied it. “Of
course not. Jack wasn’t that well off. He couldn’t afford to hire
me full-time. I agreed to take care of any legal matters for him
when and if they came up. After all, he helped pay my way through
college.”
    “Well, wasn’t that nice,” Mother said. “I
knew Jack was a philanthropist at heart.”
    Handel Parker nodded slowly, his expression
indecipherable. “Yes, he was.”
     
    *****
     
    Rows of vines in neat symmetrical lines
stretched as far as the eye could see, rolling with the hills and
dells, parting smoothly to encircle a cluster of olive trees left
standing guard like gnarled, elderly, gentlemen keeping watch over
the tender grapes. A neighbor’s vineyards butted up to Jack’s, the
lines running in the opposite direction, and according to Handel,
Fredrickson’s biggest competitor.
    “New winery’s are spreading all over the
country,” Handel informed us as we slowed to turn into the long
gravel driveway.
    “I read something about that,” I said.
“Didn’t the number of registered winery’s double in the past couple
of years? Last year over 600 permits were issued. Wine is becoming
the fastest growing agriculture in America. I have a friend from
college who lives in Washington State. She said wineries are
popping up all over there too.”
    Handel’s look of surprise at my knowledge
warmed my heart. For some reason he didn’t seem to like me very
much and I enjoyed the thought of besting him at something. We were
both attorneys, and maybe that accounted for the competitive streak
in me. But the man was obviously jealous I’d inherited Uncle Jack’s
holdings. Had he expected them for himself?
    “Yes,” he said, buttoning his jacket in
anticipation of our arrival. “They’ve spread along the entire West
coast, as well as Virginia, the Carolinas, and any other state
conducive to growing grapes. In fact, I believe Minnesota has a few
vineyards as well.”
    I opened my mouth to expound once more from
my well of winemaking knowledge, but my mother laid a hand lightly
on my arm and squeezed, a warning to save it . She knew from
experience between my brother and myself that I wouldn’t quit until
I had the last word, something I’d failed to grow out of. I
expelled a frustrated breath and watched as the buildings came into
view.
    According to Handel, the house had been
rebuilt in the fifties after the original was destroyed by fire.
The owners at that time decided to go with brick to save themselves
another heartache. Spreading out like a child’s Lego creation with
one addition after another, it appeared a living, growing, entity.
The brick was the palest pink, shimmering in the sun like a
watercolor painting. The outlying