Take Me Higher (8 page)

‘I’ll drive you to the air strip,’ he offered.

A short time later, James was standing next to his car at the entrance to the family house. He watched Syrah, Diana and Keoki walk down the stairs flanked by floral tributes to Ethan. He could hardly keep from staring at Keoki, so handsome and exotic-looking with an aura of sweetness that touched James’s heart. Syrah’s child! How he wished he had been the father of this love child of hers. The boy looked up at him, their eyes met and a bond was immediately forged between them. James walked up several stairs to greet Keoki and shake his hand.

‘I’m one of your mother’s oldest friends. We grew up together. Our fathers were good friends too, the best. I loved Ethan as I loved my own father. Come along, I’m going to drive you to your mom’s plane.’

And with those words said, James slid his arms around the boy and gave him a hug, took his hand and then Syrah’s. With Diana alongside Syrah, arms linked, they left the house of mourners behind them.

Once settled in James’s car for several minutes they were silent.
Only the sound of gravel crunching under the tyres and a bird singing somewhere in a tree broke the silence. The four of them were lost in their own thoughts. Finally it was James who broke the silence. ‘Syrah, as you’re the new owner of Ruy Blas, I think I should tell you some things that are going on in the Valley. They might influence you in your handling of it.’

James could see Syrah, Keoki leaning against her, in the rear-view mirror. His heart raced that little bit faster. He could feel in the marrow of his bones that Syrah was coming home. Ethan had given her the chance and he was certain she would grasp it in both hands. Hadn’t Ethan told James often enough that Syrah, in the final analysis, had a passion for the vine that Caleb and Paula would never have? Only she had never as yet come to terms with it. James looked briefly at Diana, who smiled back at him. For a few seconds he was dazzled by her beauty, that special charisma that helped to make her the great actress she was. It was that smile of approval more than anything else that spurred him on.

‘You’ve been away from the Valley and what’s going on here for a very long time. Things are very difficult financially for the small independent growers. That will include you now. Out from under the umbrella of Richebourg-Conti, and without its support and Caleb and Paula’s help, you will be one of the smaller vineyards – though granted the most prestigious one in all of California, an independent with great power. If you keep Ruy Blas, remember that for most of the time the vineyard will be an uphill battle to run but with monumentally exciting rewards waiting at every harvest.

‘Syrah, men like Ira have for the last few years been pushing their way into the Napa Valley and buying most anything they can get their hands on. Ira Rudman has been seen around Richebourg-Conti frequently. He’s been cultivating a friendship with Caleb and Paula, but never got to first base with Ethan. He wanted none of the diversification plans Caleb and Paula dreamed up with Ira. Your brother and sister-in-law have been feeding information to Ira about which of the smaller vineyards are in a bad way or going down, the banks foreclosing. Rudman has bought up too much vine-rich land and now we’re all concerned.’

‘The bastard!’ exclaimed Diana.

‘You can be sure he has something big in mind. Ira never does things in a small way. How stupid and mean of Caleb and Paula,’ declared Syrah.

‘Wine is in our blood. We were born into the industry. Whatever you do about Ruy Blas, I’m sure it will be the right thing. Think long and hard on what you want for you and Keoki, the life you want to lead and where the world of wine fits into it. And remember, I am here for you if ever you need my help.’

‘James, you always were my knight in shining armour,’ she said. He saw the softness of love for him in her eyes and heard it in the sound of her voice.

‘And you have always been my Lady of Shallott. Those were the happiest days of my life,’ he told her.

The airfield was in sight and Syrah’s tangerine bi-plane stood under the afternoon sun like a rare butterfly. Everyone fell silent as James drove across the grass towards the plane. He stopped the car close to the double-winged aircraft. No one made a move to leave. It was several minutes before Diana turned round in her seat to face Keoki, ‘Well, sport, let’s you and me climb into our flying gear and get settled in our seat,’ she suggested to the boy.

Still looking at Syrah and Keoki through the rear-view mirror, James watched the boy kiss his mother’s cheek before he leaped from the seat and flung the door open. Syrah, still in her mourning clothes, followed her son from the car. James, now standing beside her, placed a hand on her shoulder. It held her back from following her son and Diana. Syrah and James did not speak. Being alone together for a few minutes seemed enough for them. Syrah climbed into her flying suit while he watched her.

Once dressed she turned to him and said, ‘You are all I have, all I trust, and your being here for me now makes me wonder why I ever ran away from you.’

‘Foolish youth. Shall we leave it at that for now and forever?’ he answered her.

‘You always did make everything easy for me,’ she told him.

The love that shimmered between them was too intense even to contemplate. The sexual attraction so strong it was impossible to deny it. For each of them it was too personal, too deep, to do anything about
at that moment. James, taking both her hands in his, raised them to his lips and kissed them. Syrah had never felt so loved except by Ethan.

‘There’s so much more I’d like to say. I don’t know where to begin,’ Syrah told him.

‘Nor I.’

‘Our time will come.’

‘Yes, but until then it would be best for you to take immediate action to protect yourself and your vineyard. The Ruy Blas manager and his staff of vineyard workers, who have been working together for as long as I can remember, are under the Richebourg-Conti umbrella. I think you should assume that now Caleb and Paula own Richebourg-Conti they will go after your legacy too. They need Ruy Blas, it’s the flagship of Richebourg-Conti.

‘The first thing Caleb will do is to make the Ruy Blas workforce redundant or at the very least snatch them back to work on the Richebourg-Conti vineyards. If that were to happen your vineyard and Ethan’s cellar would be doubly vulnerable to sabotage, thievery, court orders and claims by your brother. I believe he will stop at nothing to seize your legacy back from under his control.’

‘What shall I do?’ asked Syrah, who realised James was talking good sense. She
did
have to protect Ruy Blas. Running back to Malibu to mourn the death of her father and think about what to do with her life and her legacy was not reacting responsibly to Ethan’s grand gesture of love. Of course she would have to protect her inheritance, even if she didn’t know how.

James was acutely aware of the anxiety he was causing Syrah. It showed on her face. He reached out to sweep a strand of her hair from her cheek and caress it with the back of her hand. She leaned into his hand and once more they were aware of how close they were to each other. How much richer their lives had instantly become now that they had once more found each other. That realisation did nothing to comfort them. It would also complicate things for both of them.

James ignored the passion he felt for Syrah and addressed the problem at hand. ‘If you would like me to, I will go directly from here to Ruy Blas and find the manager, Henri Chagny, and the vineyard workers. I have been close to these men all of my life. I know many of them well, men from my own tribe who sit on the same tribal council as I do. They
have their own loyalties to the land and the vines. If I go to them as soon as I see you off and suggest they resign from Richebourg-Conti, who pay them as Ruy Blas workers, their resignations effective immediately, I believe you’ll be able to hire them in your own name and place them under contract to Richebourg-Ruy Blas. As the new owner you have every right to do that. The vineyard would then be run as it always was before Ethan’s death.’

James’s suggestion seemed so right. His help gave Syrah a focus on her legacy and a new understanding of how she would have to fight for the vineyard to keep it. A shiver of excitement travelled through her entire body and she came to terms with the fact that she loved the land, the vine and the grape. With a sense of belonging, she realised she had come home.

There was a tremor in her voice when she told him, ‘Please do that for me. Get the men to stay and work for me as they did for Ethan. And, James, please keep a watch on what’s going on at Ruy Blas until I can straighten out my affairs in Malibu. Getting my head round the changes I will need to make is not going to be easy. I’ll call you as soon as I am back there.’

Their numbers were hurriedly exchanged on scraps of paper furnished by James. They kissed just once: deeply, passionately, urgently. Then Syrah broke away from his embrace and into a run. James watched her check that Keoki and Diana were safely seated before she put on her flying jacket and climbed into the forward cockpit. James pulled the chocks from under the wheels, the plane’s motor burst into life and the propeller sputtered into action. Syrah taxied away from James and the three of them waved farewell to him. James raced to his car and was away from the field before Syrah had even taken off the ground. At breakneck speed he drove to Ruy Blas. Instinct told him she would circle her vineyard before flying away.

He arrived at the vineyard only minutes before Syrah swept out of the sky over Ruy Blas. She circled it twice and then, flying low over the vines dipped the wings from side to side. Her long white silk scarf drifted lazily down from the sky. James ran to catch it in mid-air. He pressed it to his lips. By then she was gone, flying into a waning sun.

Chapter 6

Circling over Ruy Blas,
her
vineyard, Syrah’s thoughts were not of what she had reaped from her father’s death but what she had lost: a man who’d loved her for everything she was and was not, for everything she could be. James and what had happened to them in an instant in the garden brought new hope to her that at the direst time of her life someone was watching over her. She relived once more that recognition of an intense and exciting love they’d had for one another, the passion of two hearts beating as one.

Dropping her scarf to James, a gesture of wanting to leave him with something of herself to contemplate, was all she could manage as she flew away from the Valley to Malibu. Her preoccupation with the loss of her father had too great a hold on her, was in a certain sense crippling her. Flying through the blue, cloudless sky, fragments of the last few days seemed miraculously to come together in her head: the loss of Ethan was going to be temporary; she sensed her father would always be with her, a part of her life kept very much alive as long as she and Keoki had Ruy Blas. And James? A temporary parting? Yes! It was so clear to her that they would find each other and a way to be together in love. Doesn’t destiny demand it? she asked herself, and was certain that it did.

It was Diana who drove them from the field where Syrah kept her plane, Keoki was asleep and the two women made the journey to Syrah’s house in silence. Only when they arrived and Diana pulled off the road and into the drive did they speak.

‘Would you like me to stay with you for a few days?’ asked Diana.

‘No. I’ve taken so much of your time when you should be in rehearsal. How ever will I be able to thank you for seeing Keoki and me through this terrible time?’ Then Syrah burst into tears. Her emotional stamina
was drained. There was nothing she could do about that. Both women were aware that time and distance away from the dreadful days and nights they had been through would be the only healer.

They hugged each other and Diana awakened Keoki just as Melba Morissey arrived through the wooden gate. The housekeeper took Keoki in hand and, placing an arm round Syrah’s shoulder, walked them to the wide door which she opened with her latch key. Diana watched the house burst out of darkness and into light. She waved to Syrah and drove away, relieved that Melba would take over and pamper her friend and Keoki.

For Syrah, being home and surrounded by her happy-go-lucky life and familiar things was an uplifting experience. Suddenly she was confronted with her old lifestyle and the fun it had been filled with. It felt good – frivolous, but oh, so very good. Ethan’s death, the dreadful Caleb and Paula and their greed, were a whole world away. What had that to do with her life and the way she wanted to live it?

For the next few days she caught up on her sleep and walked the beach, putting friends and social engagements aside. She and Keoki slipped into their old lifestyle as if it were going to go on like that forever. Syrah did not call James. She knew he would understand that she needed time to evaluate what had happened to her. But then he didn’t call her either. With the post every morning came household bills. She never even bothered to open them. That was too much like real life intruding on her private world.

Finally one morning Syrah had come to terms with dealing with her finances. She wrote cheques, filed the invoices marked ‘Paid’ and forgot about them. Several days later she was astounded by a call from her bank. Her current account was overdrawn and the bank demanded a deposit of funds to be made immediately to cover her overdraft. Such a demand had never in the past been a problem, either for the bank or Syrah, both had known it would only take a phone call to Ethan Richebourg and any temporary financial embarrassment was over. But there was no longer an Ethan Richebourg nor an account in his name for funds to be drawn from. The problem loomed large for both the bank and Syrah: Ethan Richebourg’s support was gone forever.

Syrah’s leisurely and stress-free world came crashing down around her. Pressure to wake from her inertia and take some action began to
mount for her. She was without a penny of cash reserves, had a nervous bank manager who believed the bank had always been too lenient with her financial affairs. The result: Syrah was cash poor and in serious debt as she had never been before. A call from Baskin Coolidge to say that Caleb and Paula had been advised Ethan’s will was legal and binding, and any action through the courts would almost certainly end in failure, made it impossible even to think she might be able to return to her old carefree way of living. Suddenly she was beset with serious responsibilities.

Her immediate action was to borrow twenty-five thousand dollars from Diana so she could make good the cheques she had written and there was enough cash for her day-to-day living expenses. That in itself was embarrassing. Although Diana made it as easy as possible to smooth over her friend’s having to ask for financial help, it did not come easy to Syrah, even from a best friend. She felt uncomfortable and rather foolish that she had, all her life, not interested herself greatly in money. On that front worse was yet to come. She was forced to look at the enormous debts her once considerable credit had allowed her to accumulate: the mortgage on the Malibu property, a portfolio of bad investments that needed propping up on a long and continuous basis. Lack of income of any sort was the most disturbing of her problems; second, lavish purchases that she could no longer afford to pay off. The lack of cash flow to keep her lifestyle going was forcing her into a world she had never experienced.

She found it difficult to accept that this was to be her life from now on. Confused, not knowing where to turn or what to do, she did the only thing she could do, called on her financial advisers: her bankers and her father’s accountants. And suddenly they were no longer there for her as they had been all her adult life. She was made to understand that Caleb’s curtailing her income from Richebourg-Conti had ruined her. Their only advice was that she should liquidate her assets, pay off the debts she had, which would more than likely push her into bankruptcy, and begin afresh. In other words, get a job and live within her means.

Syrah slid into despair as easily as going down a water slide. It was then, in her darkest moment, that Caleb called on her. He arrived at her door, unannounced and without Paula. Her spirits were raised by the
sight of him. Why was he there? Had he forgiven her? Had he forgiven their father for loving her? Was it true that blood was thicker than water? Was what had happened between them at Richebourg-Conti a bad dream conjured up by the death of Ethan? Those were the thoughts running through her mind as her brother walked through the drawing room on to the wooden deck overlooking the beach where Syrah, in a bathing suit, sat sunning herself while contemplating her grave situation.

‘Whatever are you doing here, Caleb?’ she asked, only to realise the moment she had uttered the words that they, as well as her tone, were hardly welcoming.

‘Well, I’m glad you see fit to come straight to the point. I might say you’re looking like hell warmed over. Are you ill?’ he asked.

‘That wasn’t very welcoming, I agree. Sorry, I’m not myself at the moment. Do sit down. I’ll tell Melba to get us some cool drinks and a bowl of fruit,’ she told her brother as she rose from the chaise she had been lying on and wrapped a sarong round her.

Caleb did not take a chaise but a wooden chair placed at a round stone table looking out towards the ocean. The sky was a hazy mother-of-pearl colour streaked with clear blue gashes made by a soft warm breeze trying to push the haze away and out to sea. He watched some of the beautiful people who lived on the beach walking, or jogging, along the water line and despised them as he did his sister for this luscious and frivolous life that was spent in such a laid-back manner.

When he had walked in on her, Syrah had looked distressed yet still beautiful. Captivating in fact. He had always been proud of her beauty, knowing it to be that rare kind that comes not from vanity but something deeper that not many women could match. All his life he had wanted some of that to rub off on him, but it never had. Caleb sighed. She and her beauty, her charisma, had ruined their lives. The love that some siblings were able to achieve and keep for always had never happened for them. Syrah should have made an effort, he told himself, and liked her even less today because in his eyes she never had.

She returned to the sun deck dressed in white: a pair of wide-legged trousers, a white shirt with long sleeves rolled up and its tails tied at her midriff. A sliver of tanned flesh showed there that he found oddly tantalising. Caleb had missed nothing: she had brushed her hair and dabbled with her face and she was barefoot. Just looking at her Caleb
knew he had been right in telling Paula not to come with him though it had caused yet another row between them. Their rows almost always had something to do with either Ethan or Syrah.

She took the chair opposite her brother. Almost immediately she sensed a tension between them but mercifully this meeting was on her territory not Caleb’s. She gained some strength from that thought. He remained silent. She simply didn’t know what to say to him. The tension was broken when Melba arrived with a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice and a glass bowl of luscious-looking fruit. Brother and sister remained silent when the housekeeper left them to return shortly with plates, silver forks and knives, and white linen napkins.

Syrah scraped back her chair and took several steps away from the table to lean against the balustrade. Facing him, she finally broke the silence. ‘What are you doing here, Caleb? And without Paula at your side? Is this to be some sort of a reconciliation between brother and sister, possibly an apology for the many cruel and twisted things you had to say to me at Dad’s funeral? No! The look on your face says I have it all wrong as usual.’

She was fighting back tears. Not one of the things she had said to her brother had been what she had meant to say. In her heart she wanted him suddenly to transform himself into a loving sibling who adored her as her father had. To come to her aid. To beg that they should begin again and learn to love each other. That had been the case once when they had been children before their egos had divided them.

A nice thought that could never be realised because Syrah recognised disapproval, dislike even, in Caleb’s eyes. Quite possibly even hatred. She sensed she had had little choice but to take a defensive position with her brother. It had been instinctive and, she realised, while still gazing at him, a matter of self-preservation.

Syrah poured the orange juice into two large crystal goblets and handed one to Caleb. He took the glass and drank from it. After placing it on the table he told her, ‘I thought it was best to come here and make you an offer you can hardly refuse, rather than dealing through our respective lawyers. I want the legacy Ethan left you. I
need
it. Richebourg-Conti
needs
it. You don’t. It will be a heap of baggage on your back whose weight will bring you to your knees and eventually crush you.

‘I’m prepared to give you a substantial monthly allowance for the remainder of your life, one that will keep you in the style to which you are accustomed, if you will sign over the rights of your legacy to me and never return to Richebourg-Conti. I have taken the liberty of having the papers drawn up,’ he told her as he withdrew them from the inside pocket of his jacket.

‘Never!’ she exclaimed, barely above a whisper. That too was instinctive because she certainly did need that kind of money, and the security of a financial future.

‘Did I hear you say
never
?’ asked Caleb.

‘Yes, I guess you did.’

‘Wrong answer, Syrah. I suggest you think again and then sign this document.’

‘I hear a threatening tone in your voice, Caleb. Are you warning me I’d better sign or else? Or else what? Just what more do you think you can do to me you have not already done?’

‘If you do not at the very least consider my offer and call your lawyer to join us in a meeting to hash out the details, I will call Paula and tell her there is no deal. She will then call the bank and tell them to call in your considerable outstanding loans and every one of your creditors. You will ruin yourself, have to sell off everything to keep Ethan’s legacy and watch the grapes rot on the vines. Even your precious plane will be gone. You’re no wine maker nor a worker. You’ve no funds to run your holding, and not a clue about business. I want that legacy, Syrah, and I mean to get it. You will have to sell and I know one thing for sure: you will never sell it outside the family because Ethan would turn over in his grave if you did and you couldn’t bear that.’

She rose from her chair and walked round the table to stand next to her brother. Something had snapped within her from stress, deep grief, the aura of hatred and greed surrounding Caleb. She watched him rise from his chair. A moment of madness came over her then. Passion and self-respect rose in her, a sense of self-worth took her over. Her hand shot out and she slapped Caleb several times hard across his face, first on one cheek then the other, swift as a serpent’s darting tongue.

She trembled with rage. Her mouth dry, she could barely speak but when she did she told her brother, ‘Out! Out now before I count to ten. Because if you’re still here then I will call the police and have you
physically removed. Stay out of my life, Caleb, and off my land. Yes,
my
land. Out of
my
wine cellar. Until you arrived here with your lust for my legacy, I had no idea of what I wanted to do with it. I wasn’t even thinking about it. That’s no longer the case. Always remember, you greedy bastard, it was
you
who made my mind up for me. You who reminded me I am not the woman you think I am but my father’s daughter. You will rue this visit for as long as you live.’ And Syrah began counting, ‘One, two …’

She watched Melba silently hand her brother a white handkerchief which he placed against the trickle of blood oozing from his nose. Syrah stood her ground and watched her housekeeper usher him from the terrace and out of the house to his car.