Lucy lay on the sofa, her head in Josh’s lap. They had dined simply at Mountain Shadows and eaten in the large country kitchen. Annette had excused herself afterward and headed upstairs, leaving Lucy and Josh alone. They spent some time watching movies and snacking on buttery popcorn. Lucy had begun to feel more at home when visiting the farmhouse, and she and Josh had reached a new level of intimacy she’d begun to realize she had never experienced with anyone else.
“What’s the most important thing to you?” Lucy asked.
“I would have to say having a sense of purpose. Life is never easy, but if you know why you are doing something, somehow it makes it all doable. I used to think that earning the big money and climbing the ladder was my purpose, but since my dad died, it’s changed. Right now, safeguarding the future of this farm for everyone who lives and works here is what gets me up in the mornings.”
She turned to look at him, his face softened by the dim light of an antique lamp, and he looked especially handsome tonight.
“What about you, Lucy? What’s your purpose?”
“I said it that first night I dined up here, that I want to make a difference. Not in a grandiose way like the Palmers showing off at gala dinners and charitable foundations, just to help struggling children, one child at a time.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Josh. “And by the way, just so you don’t forget. I love you.”
The words made her feel soft and safe and warm. With Jason, she had been hooked on the adrenaline, swept away by a carefully orchestrated deception. At the time, it felt intoxicating, a dangerous dream with a nightmarish undertone. But this time it was different. She was learning that I love you had many guises. It came in the form of let me know when you are safely home and can I help you?
Over the past few months, her relationship with Josh had come to anchor her in a way she had never experienced. Love, the real thing. It was here at last. It felt strong and tender and slightly scary at the same time. There was no more need for words and Josh began exploring the contours of her body. When his lips met hers, his kiss was slow and passionate.
“What if your mother comes downstairs?”
“Nah, my mother isn’t a night owl,” he said, lifting her sweater over her head. He switched off the light and the TV. The room was illuminated only by the shafts of moonlight that shone through the old bay windows. Soon, they were both naked, their bodies entwined. When she surrendered to him, the sensation was bittersweet in its intensity. She groaned, affording him the deepest entry possible, and feeling his hardness move inside her filled a longing fierce and deep.
She fell asleep next to him, spoon-shaped under a throw, safe and secure in his arms and his love.
***
“The alarm was set off last night at about two am. Fortunately, Kallie got here quickly and turned the tap off. Otherwise, God knows how much wine would have been lost,” Tom said, shaking his head.
Tom and Josh were standing in cellar number two next to a large fermentation tank, their shoes stained red from the wine that was an inch-deep on the floor.
“How much do you think we lost?’ asked Josh. It was early morning and he had been woken by an urgent phone call from Tom only fifteen minutes ago.
“I reckon a hundred liters or so. Shit!” Tom was clearly livid.
“Do you think there’s been any contamination?” asked Josh.
“We can’t rule it out. I did a quick taste test and it seemed all right, but we can’t take a chance. Everything in this tank will have to go, Dammit!”
I think whoever did it skedaddled once the alarm went off. “That’s how they got in.” Tom pointed to a small window, its panes smashed. Glass lay in shards on the floor.
“Why, after months of smooth sailing, would we suddenly have trouble again?”
“It’s Sun Valley, Josh. I absolutely know it in my bones.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Could this be the work of disgruntled workers? Have we laid anyone off recently? Do you know anyone with a grudge?”
Tom shook his head. “We’ve had no trouble on the work front recently. No one has lost their job this year.”
“Perhaps it could be a political act,” said Josh. “The radical Land First group has been causing havoc on some farms lately.”
“It’s possible, but highly unlikely. I’d know if the Land First group were agitating here. And whatever the cause is, I’ll tell you one thing, that bastard Hans Bekker knows.”
In his gut, Josh knew his friend was right.
***
Hoyt Construction. Not once but several times, Josh had seen the name on various pieces of machinery that were active on the Sun Valley property recently. A pickup truck with the Hoyt logo had been parked there too. He knew the company was multi-national and had an office in Johannesburg.
Josh had made an excuse for Lucy, told her that he had mountains of work to attend to. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He hadn’t said anything to her yet about the sabotage of one of their fermentation tanks. He was a man who liked to be in possession of the facts, so he began the process of fact-finding.
All through the night, he set about methodically researching the Palmers and their business interests, as well as Sun Valley’s. For hours, he worked painstakingly, cross-referencing every associate and subsidiary of Sun Valley. He dug deep into the Palmers’ history, keeping track of all their business interests while trying to deduce who exactly made up their inner circle. It was clear that the money was old. Jason Palmer’s great-grandfather Jackson Palmer had made his fortune in steel and railroads. Later, Jackson Palmer II added to the family’s wealth through properties and been in a position to heavily subsidize his son’s political career.
It appeared that Jason’s immediate family had made politics their business while it was Senator Palmer’s brothers Graham and Marshall who actually ran the family businesses. It was a complicated knot of trusts and consortiums that was opaque to public view.
Damn it, they’re good.
After hours of searching with little to show for it, his eyes burned, and a headache crept up his neck until it was a tight painful band across his forehead. One name, however, appeared several times in reference to the Palmers: J.F Struben. The man was a ghost. He had zero social media profile but was listed on the board of directors for Zenith Holdings and the so-called Bonavie Trust. Both were owned by Palmer Family holdings and the Bonavie Trust was registered in the Cayman Islands. Jack Palmer II’s alma mater was Yale, where he had been in business school from 1976 to 1980. Finally, just as he was about to give up, he came across the slightly blurry picture. There, in 1977, stood John Francis Struben with an arm around a fellow member of the Alpha Kappa Fraternity, Jack Palmer.
With a dogged sense of purpose, Josh kept up his search. The sun was about to rise when finally, he found what he was looking for. A few phone calls tomorrow to his contacts in Johannesburg would give him the confirmation he needed. Bonavie Trust, thanks to J.F. Struben, the Palmer family fixer, now had a controlling share in Sun Valley Wines.
***
The following morning, the clouds had lifted but not Josh’s spirits. After just two hours of broken sleep, he began calling his contacts in the wine industry. Bill Hagerman, a friend of his father’s and a major wine dealer, was able to shed some light on the situation.
“Sun Valley was in considerable financial difficulty and considering selling up earlier this year. Despite their major marketing drive, they simply never acquired the market share they needed to make the place profitable. The word is that they have of late acquired a new partner, all hush-hush, an overseas interest. It’s all very recent, I’m talking the last few weeks,” said Bill. “They’ve received a major cash injection and hired a top winemaker from France to oversee the winemaking.”
And a minor hood to carry out the less legitimate parts of the Palmers’ plan. Josh put together the pieces in his head.
Damn! Winemaking was a tough business. So many of the old estates had been bought out by large corporate interests over the years. Families like his, who had generations of experience in winemaking, had given up. Finally, after withstanding droughts and floods and other disasters, they found they could no longer compete with the big wine firms, whose advertising campaigns make them appear to be old-timey and authentic, but behind them were corporate interests with deep pockets and international reach.
Mountain Shadows was still hugely respected and a regular winner at both local and international wine competitions, but acceptance into the lucrative international market with so many competitors remained a huge challenge, and the farm’s debt was slowly but surely creeping upward.