The Vineyard
- 3 years ago
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In The Vineyard Ch. 01 free porn video
Ana Palmer slammed on the brakes. She felt them fighting back – the anti-lock feature – and prayed the car wouldn’t lurch forward. Mere inches from her bumper, a golf cart cruised across the parking lot. The driver yelled back to someone – she thought he said ‘tell my son to wake his lazy ass up!’ – and drove on as if the near miss hadn’t happened. It was 8:23 a.m. on a bright Thursday, and Ana was driving up the approach to the Creek Valley Winery. The winery wouldn’t be open for hours, but Ana had not come here to taste or buy wine. Nor had she come planning to have near misses with golf carts.
She was shaking, and took several deep breaths, trying to relax. She reddened, certain her almost accident didn’t go unnoticed. Her sporty yellow German made car drew attention under normal circumstances. She considered quietly driving away, but decided she would look even more suspicious if she fled. Besides, Uncle Chester was supposed to be here, if she left, she would be letting him down.
She took one more breath, put the car in gear, and drove slowly forward. She carefully parked at the far end of a row of other vehicles, mostly trucks, watching all directions for any sign of cross traffic. She looked around, and at the other end of the parking lot she saw a large high peaked wooden building. On the deck extending around the side of the building, a group of about half a dozen men stared her way. She instinctively glanced up at the rearview mirror to finalize her appearance. Her usual touch up – quick brush of her hair and final touches of powder and lipstick – was replaced by a careful check of the efficiency of the ponytail wrap. Ana’s wavy reddish-blond hair tended to have a mind of its own, especially now that she preferred to wear it longer. She spotted a small blemish in the rear view mirror. Ana, when will you outgrow those, she thought. It’s about time, at 32. She reassured herself, it doesn’t matter – they don’t care what I look like, as long as I can do the work! Satisfied, she opened the car door. Looking over toward the crowd, she tried to find a familiar face. They were no longer silently staring but were engaged in an animated conversation.
The group of men – clothed in flannel shirts or coats, blue jeans and work boots, were all older than Ana – most in their 60s. She looked down at her feet and was sorry now that she didn’t buy work boots. But, shiny new work boots might be worse than the aged, paint-stained athletic shoes she was wearing. At least they were comfortable, and she didn’t care if they got muddy.
Ana walked across the gravel parking lot with her hands in the pockets of her windbreaker. She had decided, after listening to the forecast, to wear jeans and a tee shirt, adding the windbreaker for the morning chill. She regretted not bringing a warmer coat – the winery was some miles from the city and the air was colder as well as cleaner. Gloves might have been nice, too, she thought. Her hands turned cold as soon as she left the warmth of the car. She drew nearer to the group, and was relieved to pick out the familiar shape of Uncle Chester.
Chester VanMeter wasn’t really her uncle though he had been around her family for as long as she could remember. Although he was once married – his wife died 20 years ago of cancer – Ana thought of him as a perpetual bachelor. Chester was large, but not fat. He had a round, open face. His hair was silvery grey and thinning, although he was far from bald. Ana didn’t actually know how old Chester was, she guessed that he was somewhere in his late sixties. He and her father had been business associates for years prior to their retirement and remained friends afterward. He often spent time with her parents at their house on the lake. Last weekend, he had suggested that Ana meet him at Creek Valley on Thursday to pick grapes.
Uncle Chester made wines, and almost always brought bottles for the Palmers to try. When Ana was younger, Chester’s wines were light and sweet, almost like soda. Within the last few years, Chester’s wines had changed in style – they now reminded her of ‘real’ wines she ordered in restaurants or bought in wine shops. Chester brought an exceptional bottle of red wine last weekend, and when Ana asked him for details, he told her, to her surprise that the grapes were local – from the Creek Valley Winery, located about an hour south from Ana’s home on the outskirts of the capital. Ana knew the area – it was just a couple of miles from South Central State, a small public university. Ana had visited the campus – it was located in a rural, though quaint community known as Creekboro – but she had never been to the winery. Uncle Chester explained that Creek Valley contacted the Amateur Winemakers’ Club he belonged to and made a deal – if the winemakers would help with picking, they would receive grapes to make at least five gallons of wine apiece for each picking day. Chester’s incentive for inviting Ana was to double his take, since she wasn’t interested in winemaking herself.
Ana walked up the steps in the front of the building. She paused and looked at the heavy wooden double doors. Next to these was a sign showing ‘Closed’ and listing hours. This must be the main entrance, she thought. She walked around the corner on the deck to where the group of men stood.
‘Ana,’ Chester said as he saw her, ‘you made it!’ He opened his arms to pull her next to his ample frame. As he drew her close, ‘Guys, this is little Ana, who I’ve been telling you about.’ He always called her ‘little Ana.’
She looked around and nodded at the group of older men.
‘I won’t bother to tell you everybody’s name yet,’ said Uncle Chester, ‘ because you’d just forget them. They’ll remember you, and you’ll get a chance to meet the guys one at a time. This’ he pointed around ‘is pretty much the regular crowd.’
Ignoring Uncle Chester’s remark, a flurry of quick handshakes and introductions followed. ‘Ross’ and ‘Howard’ were names she could catch, but she wasn’t certain which was who. Adding to the confusion, there were two Marks.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise. Ana decided it came from around the corner, and guessed it was the sound of the big doors closing. Sure enough, within seconds, a man came around the corner of the deck, an air of impatience about him. He was younger and taller than the others, in his mid to late 30s, clothed in a sleeveless tee shirt despite the morning chill. He was easily over six feet and his hair was on the long side – at least compared to the corporate types that Ana was used to. He had a mustache and a light outline of beard – as if he simply didn’t bothered to shave for a few days. His work pants and high rubber boots showed stains of mud and grass.
He stopped and looked around, at the group. Ana was immediately struck by the intensity the man projected. She wondered if this was the man Uncle Chester cautioned her about. If so, he was nothing like he imagined. The tan, well-defined arms and sun streaks in his hair verified that he spent much time working outside, yet there was something in the way he carried himself that suggested that there was a far more complex character inside the laborer’s body. Ana could see how this man was irresistible to many women, though he wasn’t what she considered her type. Nonetheless, something about him attracted her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He stopped a few feet from the group and spoke.
‘OK, who tried to kill the old man?’
Ana’s private thoughts faded away as she felt a sudden sick sensation in her stomach. Of course, the golf cart! She started to say something, but Uncle Chester interrupted.
‘You know damn well he doesn’t look where he’s going! Since he got that ridiculous thing, he’s completely out of control!’
The younger man narrowed his eyes and Ana thought he was going to confront Uncle Chester. But his manner relaxed, and he laughed, a rich and honest laugh.
‘Yeah, but I have to hear about it every time. From Todd an
d sometimes Brandon, not from Jack. He couldn’t care less.’
Ana noted that the young man spoke with a slow, deliberate voice, nothing like the ‘rush rush’ types she had been exposed to in her career in insurance sales. His eyes were bright steely blue. She saw the speed with which he took in the surroundings, and again thought that he must be more intelligent that his appearance initially suggested. She was amused to realize that she was making the same generalization others frequently made about her – anyone that good looking couldn’t possibly be that smart! His eyes took an inventory of the people, then slowed, landing on her. She met his gaze, but she felt like he could read her thoughts. She was about to avert her eyes when he winked. The intensity was still there, but it was tempered with friendliness.
‘So, who’s this?’ he addressed Uncle Chester.
‘This is Ana, I told you about her. She’s here to help us pick.’ Ana was relieved that Uncle Chester left off the ‘little.’
‘That’s right. You all did show up this morning to pick grapes! Isn’t it about time we get started?’
The group of men made mock groaning sounds, then started to walk around the deck, down the stairs, then back toward a shed a few feet from the side of the wood building. They made jokes about being ‘slave labor,’ and ‘underpaid’ as they walked along. Ana started to follow but she felt a presence. The young man fell in step beside her.
‘Hiya. I’m Miles Delong, winemaker, general manager, and whatever else the old SOB tells me to do.’ He held out a hand. She took his hand and suddenly felt strange. She drew her hand back quickly, not knowing what to think. She looked at him, he didn’t appear to think anything of her sudden movement. She hoped she didn’t look as flustered as she felt. She forced herself to sound casual.
‘I thought you must be Miles. Ana Palmer. And I’m sorry, if I nearly hit the man on the golf cart.’
‘Naaah. Chester’s right. The old man Jack, or Mister Formby, by the way, owns the vineyard and winery, but nowadays he just does sales and promo work. He hired me some years ago when his arthritis got bad and I was…available. And, taught me more about grapes and wine than I ever realized one person could learn. He bought that golf cart last year, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t pull out in front of someone each time. In fact, I know of at least one new picker who got so scared he left!’ He paused and thought for a moment. ‘He did come back, though. We were picking Cab Sav and Merlot that day.’
‘You know, I don’t really know anything about this,’ Ana confessed. ‘I mean, I do drink wine, not too much, I mean, I don’t have a problem or anything, but I’ve never worked at a winery, or grown grapes or anything.’
‘Oh, well, by ‘Cab Sav,’ I meant Cabernet Savignon. You’ve probably heard of that. We tend to get into shorthand like any other profession. At any rate, no experience required, as long as you keep an open mind. The old guys will help you. Maybe you know this, but they mostly belong to a home winemakers club.’
She nodded. ‘Uncle Chester told me that you like to have the best grapes hand picked.
‘That’s right, we use a mechanical harvester for some of the others. But, my current project is to experiment with some serious hand-crafted varietal wines. ‘Varietal means – ‘
Ana interrupted. ‘I know, the wines that are all, or very nearly all, made out of a single grape type. And often, especially in America, named after that type. Like your Cab Savs, which is a term I know, by the way.’
Miles lifted his eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed. Maybe you can teach me some things.’
Ana looked at him sharply. He wasn’t laughing, and didn’t appear sarcastic. He was just staring at her, all of her, and appeared to be carrying on an internal dialog of some sort. She regretted not wearing a touch of makeup – some blush and a light lip gloss, at least.
Then she wondered why she wanted this man to find her attractive, she wasn’t looking for a flirtation. Or, was she? Miles looked a little wistful, then smiled again.
‘We’ve had ladies out here before, and they’ve been some of the best workers. Plus, it makes the old guys work harder, so no woman is beating them out.’
Ana smiled and nodded. She could see the logic in that. For many years of her working life, she felt that men were far more competitive with a woman than they were with other men in similar situations.
They arrived at the shed. Miles handed Ana a set of clippers from a cardboard box.
‘Chester said that you just got laid off from your job. ‘
Ana nodded. ’10 years with the company, and they went through a merger, then moved to Chicago. The jobs, not the people. My first and only job after college.’
‘That’s tough. I’ve been through some changes, although not quite like your situation.’ He again looked thoughtful. ‘But its all water under the bridge, whatever that means. Maybe I should invent some saying like ‘its like grapes through a press.’ Because the grapes aren’t whole anymore, but, if all goes well, you end up with wine, which is even better than grapes, in my opinion at least. I tend to believe that things work out for the better, if you let them. At any rate, I hope you like working with us. We only work until about noon or one, depending on how much we have to do. Then we break for lunch, then, if anybody’s left standing, they help out for a couple more hours, otherwise I do it myself, with a little help from my friend Jimmy who comes over a little later on. Hey, I don’t mean to talk your ear off. I guess we haven’t had a new person here for awhile. Let me show you where we’re working today.’
They walked away from the shed, to the south. A gravel path curved around the back of the wood building. It led through a wooded area. Stone benches stood intermittently along the path, and a fork in the path led to two large covered wooden shelter houses lined with picnic tables. A long grill sat between the shelter houses.
‘That’s where we do our Saturday cookouts during the summer. We started a few years ago, and it’s turned out to be a real money maker for us,’ Miles said with some pride. We’ve also been able to hire people to run the tasting and tours and retail, and work the cookouts. Jimmy and I used to do that all ourselves, along with taking care of the vines and the wines. We still like to work the grill, though.’
Then they went slightly uphill and out of the woods. Ana stared in amazement.
From the road, the winery looked like a normal park. You could see the driveway, trees, lots of picnic tables and the shelter houses, and as you went up the driveway, the multi story main building with a gazebo on one side and a stage some distance behind. But, not a sign of grape vines. Ana expected to see a flat square area, maybe even an acre. She was taken aback by this vision. From the rise where they stood, there was a buffer of about 50 yards of grass. The terrain sloped down, and rolled into a long flat area. As far as she could see were row after row of trellised vines, extending from a central grassy area, like the mouth of a river. In the middle of the grassy area was what looked like a compost pile covered with pieces of wood. Between each row of vines were open rows with very close cut grass. At the head of some of the vine rows stood a single rose bush.
‘How many vines are there?’ she asked Miles. ‘There must be thousands.’
‘About five thousand, depending on the day,’ he answered. ‘We get losses
every year. Some weather, some disease, some new ones just don’t take. But we hold pretty steady at this size. Much bigger, and we’d have a hard time with vine maintenance. Any smaller, well, we are at a point of selling most of what we produce annually. So, we really can’t get any smaller. What I would do, if it was up to me, is maybe tear out some of what we have and plant some different types. ‘ He pointed to the left. ‘We’re picking some of the whites today.
Including Chardonney. Those rows over there.’
Ana could see piles of bright yellow square plastic crates at the ends of several rows. She saw bodies at intervals on each side of a few rows. The other pickers were already hard at work.
‘I like to pair up pickers. One on each side of a row, across from each other. They miss less that way. Just go on down and find someone who’s alone. Or, if everyone’s in a pair, just make it a three. They’ll let you know when the lugs are full. And, have fun!’
Miles turned back and walked toward the winery. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back. Ana was making her way down the slope. He shook his head. Don’t even think about it, Miles. That’s the last thing you need. But he couldn’t stop staring, she was nothing like he had expected. She was so natural – pony tail and no makeup, and so down to earth in her attitude. She was thin but shapely, and, on the tall side, five seven or so, he guessed, with long legs under her faded jeans. Just the type he had a weakness for. Her light red hair had sparkled in the morning sun as they walked. He had to fight an impulse to touch her again – just to see if he had really felt something electric when he briefly held her hand. He hadn’t missed that she pulled back suddenly – did she feel something as well? He shook his head again and turned around. Work, Miles, work, he told himself. As he walked back, he chanted it like a mantra. Work, work, work. But he knew he’d have trouble staying focused on the grapes this morning.
As Ana walked, she looked around. The leaves on the vines were shades of bright green, some showing the first sign of turning fall colors of amber and brown. From many vines, shoots and branches spread well into the aisles between the rows. The number of vines was intimidating. The rows were spaced at about 7 or 8 feet, and were each a couple of hundred feet in length. Each row had a large wooden end pole, and in the rows with a rose bush, it stood about 18 inches in front of the end pole. Many of the end poles bore a metal sign with a name. Ana passed by several different names, certain they were names of grape types, but she didn’t recognize any of them. She reached the 5 rows with the plastic crates at the end. Seeing that each man was tossing bunches of grapes into a crate at his side, she picked one up. About half way down the center row, Ana saw Uncle Chester, picking alone.
‘I was waiting for you,’ he said. ‘I see you met Miles. Or, he made sure he met you!’
‘Uncle Chester, I don’t see what the big deal is. He seems really nice, and very informative.’
‘You just watch out, young lady. I know you’re still trying to get over Greg.’ Greg was her ex-husband.
‘Uncle Chester, how can I get over Greg? He won’t leave me alone!’ It was true, her ex had called her daily since the news came that her job was being eliminated. He blamed their break up on her job, and was trying to convince her to try things again.
‘So, Do I just start cutting?’
‘Cut the bunches, try not to miss any or to get leaves in with them. Throw them in your lug. When it starts to get heavy, then get another one. You’ll get a feel for how full they should be after while. If they’re too heavy, we can’t pick them up later when we need to. Just watch mine, and fill yours about as full. And, you just stay away from young Miles there. Not that he’s all bad.’ Chester mused. He took this place and turned it around. Jack Formby was running it out of what’s now the tool shed. Our wine club used to pick some of his grapes, but he didn’t have half the number. And, he was open when he felt like it, and not open when he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t want to have the hassle of the things Miles started – cook outs, catering for parties and wedding receptions, live music, winery tours, and the like. And, his own kids wouldn’t have anything to do with the place. It wasn’t until Miles started to make a success that they started to act interested. Now, of course, Jack says you can’t keep them away. Brandon flunked out of college, then started working here, and Todd has appointed himself CEO, which means that he tries to look like he’s in charge. Of course, one of these days I expect they’ll inherit the place. I hope for Miles’ sake that he has other plans – those boys will make his life miserable once when Jack passes on. But, that’s not my concern.’ Ana wanted to ask Chester more questions about Miles, he seemed to know quite a lot. Its just normal curiosity, she told herself, like anytime
Latisha
- 26.06.2022
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