Valley of Sinners Ch. 02

"I'm addicted to movies -- so you make the choice. I watch almost anything, including the occasional real blockbuster."

Hope became rather vague for Hope in the short time that Nash has known her. "Oh, I don't really spend time at movies."

Nash looked at her, mouth agape. He'd not been more surprised if she'd just confessed she'd not had sex since conceiving Lisa some twenty-four years ago. "You don't go to the movies?"

Dropping a handful of dog biscuits into Monty's bowl -- he was out roaming the vineyard -- Hope said vaguely, "Some times I used to take the girls when they were kiddies."

"Well I never!"

"Well you never what?"

"You know, Hope."

"Well, if you must know, films really don't interest me. I'd rather be out driving or lying under a tree reading or shopping or traveling. Then there's keeping busy around here, it's a big house."

"And tending to the grapes."

"Oh no, I'm not allowed to touch them under the specific contract I have with the Bronkovic brothers. I am a contract grower."

"Really, I had visions of you pruning from dawn to dusk, spraying and whatever else you do before you begin stomping the juice out of the ripe grapes."

"You pictured me crushing grapes the traditional way, in a white blouse and black skirt with the stain of red grape juice on my legs and going halfway up my thighs? Well I never," she teased, having the satisfaction of seeing her contract writer flush.

"No, I must not touch the vines. My only obligation is to keep them safe from outside interference, e.g. human intruders and to control four-legged vermin."

"Eradicate."

"No, one can't really eradicate rabbits. I thought even a Townie would know that."

"Can we take the Chevy?"

Hope tossed him the keys, asking if he could drive, and received a nod.

"I've been waiting for you to ask, and was rather surprised about not being quizzed about it's history, gear ratios and why dad replaced the original motor and running gear."

Nash said there was plenty of time for that, perhaps when they were relaxing after lunch in the orchard.

Nash opened the passenger door and Hope thanked him, taking the seat and muttering, "I haven't had that ritual done for me for a very long time." It was her turn to flush.

The polite gentleman said nothing because he was busily speculating what other niceties that Hope had not received for a very long time, and he was not even thinking about sex.

Nash felt his juices flow when he pressed the ignition and the distinctive, balanced rhythm of the motor relayed tremors via the steering wheel to his fingers. He glowed with pleasure and realized Hope was studying his expression with a faint smile. She was a complex woman compared with his mother and even the perplexing and currently childless friend of his, Maria Mersey.

Maria, now there was a thought.

Backing out of the garage he could see in the rear vision mirror Monty racing towards them from far away.

"Monty's coming at a gallop," he said. "Do we take him?"

"No, he's on guard duty. He'll accompany us to the cattle-stop at the road frontage but won't come any further," Hope said, using a keypad to set the house alarm and to close the garage door. "Turn right, but look out for vehicles -- young hoons and older men wanting an adrenalin rush use this long stretch of flat road to do the ton."

"One hundred miles an hour?"

"Yes, and the occasionally crazy bastard tries to go even faster."

No vehicles were approaching as they turned left, moving deeper into the valley. Hope said the valley had a micro climate of its own and soils that were conducive to grape growing. Her father had suspected this and had soils tests done and for two years had monitored rainfall, sunshine hours and soil temperatures at six locations along the valley. In the late seventies the first grapes were planted as a trial and by 1982 later a mini-boom in grape-growing in the valley was underway with the Bronkovic brothers establishing a grape crushing operation as a very basic facility.

"Was their mother's name Natasa?"

"Yes," said Hope in surprise. Do you know of her -- of course she'd dead now?"

"That big painting in your dinning room over the dresser -- artist Natasa Bronkovic."

"Of course, you noticed and made the connection. Why has it been that astute employers not managed to capture and hold you?"

"Ah, that's the story of my unhappy life. But today we dwell on something else. This is my first working day, isn't it?"

Hope flushed, saying that he'd been at work since arriving in the cab, getting the feel of the home environment but today was the first formal day at work -- looking and listening.

They passed the winery, which had a shop for casual wine tastings and sales but no restaurant or winery tours. She said the three brothers were hard workers and shared their late parent's frugal-mindedness.

"Work hard, minimize expenditure, maximize profit and retire just before death very wealthy," Hope sighed, "Just like my father."

She rattled off the names of the families growing grapes, while on the other side of the road were mainly six acre blocks, mostly running dry stock including ponies. Some of the houses were newish and palatial, 'country estates' of city lawyers, accountants, car dealers and financiers.

This seemed curious to Nash, so he expressed that opinion. Hope explained that the original property owner who owned the entire valley until his death in 1979 had noticed that grass grew better on the north-facing side of the valley. When the territorial authority, or county council as it was called in those days, began planning a roadway through the valley the farmer, Trevor Hopkins, intervened. He persuaded the surveying party - with bribes of fillets of prime steak and cartons of beer - to run the road reserve along the edge of the premier part of the valley, meaning the road when constructed would run along the somewhat less fertile land.

"Mr Hopkins's suggestion that the road extension be named Boundary Road was accepted, but the name caused problems as there are other roads named Boundary in the region. The mayor attended dad's funeral and I suggested to him over afternoon tea that it would be a good idea to rename the road Grapeville Road. Max didn't offer much encouragement but months later I read in the local community newspaper that all approvals had been received, allowing the District Council to rename the road Grapeville Road in honor of dad's pioneering work in establishing grape growing in this valley. All of the locals were chuffed with the idea and currently there's quite a push on to get our Te Henui Village -- we're coming up to it now -- renamed Grapeville. Max the mayor says he'd push to get the name changed if we can get someone to open a liquor outlet with restaurant that specializes in local wines and wines of the wider region. I've undertaken to underwrite such a venture if villagers can find somebody capable of running it well and eventually buy me out."

Nash raised his eyebrows at that disclosure but was focused on a more immediate question. "Grapeville-sourced wines -- I never seen them, and there are none in the kitchen in your wine-rack?"

"What did you drink last night at dinner -- did you notice?"

"Yes, Quinn's Table Red, very nice as I said last night."

"Madge and Richard Quinn are retired farmers who live at the upper end of this valley. Each year they commission the Bronkovic brothers to produce 5000 bottles of table red under the Quinn's label which the Quinn's then on-sell to a liquor chain. Richard Quinn is a former commodore of the yacht squadron and remains its patron to this day, so is extremely well known.

"Have you even heard of Te Henui Cartwheel Merlot?"

"Not until I saw bottles on your wine rack."

"If you read the label you would have seen my name."

"What about Montgomery's Reserve Home Paddock Cabernet Sauvignon?"

"Yes, I can't remember drinking it but have read the occasional write up about it as it's considered one of West Auckland's best reds."

"Oh my, you are well informed. So let's extend your education. Te Henui Black Stump Red is no better than what the name promises, but its great value for a wine selling for around nine bucks in supermarkets. It's a blend of wines from this valley, including juice from vines taken off the hill behind my house."

"Oh, no!"

Pointing to a vacant angled parking space while checking her lipstick, Hope smiled and said: "The brain is working is it?"

"Is Monty's proper name Montgomery?"

Snapping her handbag shut Hope nodded and said the block of vines where Nash had his first experience at shooting rabbits exclusively produces the juice for Montgomery's Cab/Sav.

"That block is Monty's special domain -- he fertilizers it each morning at dawn, and then tries with very limited success to eradicate its rabbit population. It's the premiere wine of this valley, though truthfully that's not saying much. It's difficult to find because devotees pre-order most of it. The brothers want me to allow them to bend in cab/sav juice from adjoining blocks but they're not Monty's patch. Dad knew about that particular piece of ground from old Trevor Hopkins. Dad purchased 200 acres -- it was acres not hectares in those days -- and built our house there on the site he named it Home Paddock, as Bessie my pony grazed there.

"Why would a busy vet want to buy 200 acres?"

"Because he had a vision -- dad ignored the people who laughed; he reckoned within ten years this would be one of the newest grape growing areas in New Zealand. I'd become dad's secretary/receptionist after finishing high school He wanted me to go straight on to university and become a vet, but at the time I didn't like the idea of sticking scalpels into animals. He grew table grapes where B-Block is now located behind the house where it's sheltered. I set up a stall at the gate and eventually people were coming from the city to buy our table grapes. That's how I developed my expensive tastes, as dad gave me all the money from grape sales which I spend it on dresses for myself and presents for mum and dad. At this stage mum was not living with us and died soon afterwards from complications after an operation. I adored Natasa's paintings and in 1970 I paid her one hundred and twenty hundred pounds for that painting in the dining room and gave it to dad at Christmas when he was getting over his failed marriage. Everyone who knew about the purchase thought I was mad paying that much, but Natasa and I knew better. That painting was valued last year for insurance purposes at $18,000. It's considered to be Natasa's finest work and a woman gallery owner in Sydney who knows of its existence, has offered me much more than that, but it's not for sale as it's dad's painting."

Jesus, thought Nash. Is there no end to this women's complicated outlook even when it involves people who are dead? If his mother died he'd sell all of her things and buy himself a 1939 Chevy pickup and get a conversion done.

Sell everything? Er, well right now he was not quite sure. He'd have to find out more about why to some degree Hope was living her life as if her deceased mother and father were still with her. And why in the hell would anyone name her dog Montgomery? And did the Chevy have a name? He'll inquire at the appropriate moment.

While Hope went upstairs above a shop to see her accountant, Nash surveyed the one-street shopping area. He counted twelve what he judged to be retail shops, a small medical centre and four other premises occupied by consultants that appeared to have once been shops. At the end of the village was a car and tractor service outfit with fuel pumps and opposite that were a veterinarian and a big farm and agricultural supply depot.

The busiest retailers were the grocery, the butcher's shop and a combined bookshop/Lotto agency, chemist and flower shop in that order. A clothing shop had one customer and right in front of him was a coffee shop with no customers, only a young waitress with her arms folded staring at him. Feeling a hormone surge, Nash grabbed the open neck of his shirt in both hands and pulled it apart, giving her the loutish signal, 'Show me yer tits.'

She looked at him with an unchanged expression at boredom at first, then grinned and for a moment Nash thought she was going to display her rather well-bundled package. Instead the girl who looked about twenty gave him the fingers, laughed and walked back behind the counter to serve a customer arriving at the doorway.

"Come and we'll grab coffee and a cake," called Hope who was that customer.

Replying "Good one" Nash was embarrassed as really coffee and cakes didn't seem such a good idea after his indiscretion outside the window, but Hope was already up at the counter selecting her snack. He went in, head bowed, hoping that the young woman would be too busy at the coffee machine to notice him. But she did, winking at him.

"I've ordered your coffee, choose something to eat," called Hope walking to a table.

"So you are Nash -- mum's told me about you, saying some of the women at the golf club were joking about taking you into the women's restroom for a line-up. Mum said she would try lining you up for me."

Nash dropped his bacon muffin, the plate shattering on the floor. He knelt down and began picking up the pieces.

"Oh, butter fingers are we?" commented the waitress, rushing around the bar with a small brush and broom. She bent down from the waist right in front of Nash, so that his eyes had no place to look but right down the gaping neck of her shirt. Pert twin cones with a glimpse of nipples filled his vision.

"Alayna Tait, this is my house guest, Nash Carson. I think your mother is right, you two will have so much in common."

"Thank you, Mrs Honeybun. Perhaps I could come and sleepover some time?"

"Whenever you wish, my dear; what about this weekend? I'm going to the summer flower show in Hamilton and will stay there overnight with a friend. You could come over and cook dinner for Nash."

"I-I-I need to g-g-o home and see m-mum," stammered Nash.

"You'll have to excuse him, Alayna. He's not yet used to the openness of country people. But that's a great idea -- you come on Saturday and fix dinner and on Sunday go into the city with Nash and you both can take his mother for a spin in the Chevy. It seats three on the bench seat, with seatbelts for three."

"Yes," that will be great. We close here at 1:00 on Saturdays, so about that time Nash walk over to our place for a swim in our pool -- don't worry about the bulls; they are pussies at this time of year. I'll be home about 1:15; I'll try to keep mum inside the house as she rather fancies you."

Nash turned brick red.

"She's a tease, Nash," Hope said softly

More customers had arrived so Alayna went to attend to them. While chatting with Hope Nash managed to look at Alayna three times, and twice she caught his glance. She had long brown hair tied in a cute pony tail, lots of freckles, a wide mouth, an infectious smile and was quite slender except for her chest. Although not pretty she had an easy personality. In fact, all the right credentials for a good lay; yes please!

"She's got a reputation for being a choosy and excellent bed companion, Nash. I've so pleased as she's given you the green light."

Nash dropped his head, and Hope became concerned. "What is it, Nash?"

"Well...it's...it's...."

"It's what, Nash?"

He took the plunge, saying it was rather like committing adultery.

"With whom?" Hope asked, genuinely interested that apparently there was a woman in his life. She felt ashamed that she'd not thought of asking him, taking it for granted that he was a loner.

"I'd rather not say."

Hope thought about that for a moment and slowly turned pink.

"Me?"

He nodded.

Hope turned scarlet: "Nash, for God's sake. I'm old enough to be you mother. I haven't giving you the slightest encouragement as far as I am aware."

"I apologize, Hope. I have no wish to offend. I think about sex several times a day and now you are in my thoughts. It's just happened, and there's nothing I can do about it. I have no intention of doing anything about it, but if you can't live with this unintentional revelation just say so, and I'll walk away."

"My dear boy, I'm not offended. In fact, now I think about it, I'm rather flattered. But just let's keep our relationship on an even keel, huh? Think about me as much as you wish; think dirty about me if you like. But just don't lay a hand on me-- not even a finger," said Hope, unable to restrain from giggling at the thought of that. What I really mean is don't touch me with sexual intentions in mind. Am I making myself clear?"

"Very clear, and I shall have no problem acceding to your wishes."

"Good boy. Rut with Alayna and get this thing with me out of your mind. She'll love that, but don't get too attached to her, Nash. She's a lovely girl but rather over-sexed and don't think she will be yours exclusively, if you know what I mean. That reminds me, you will need protection. Do you have any with you?"

Nash shook his head.

"I thought as much," sighed Hope. "So many men are too shy to buy condoms. I'll get you a good supply later this morning at the regional centre. My bank's branch in the mall is open on Saturday mornings; I would like you to accompany me. Have you an EPFOS card with you and another form of identification."

"Yes, drivers' license."

"Good, I shall transfer $500 dollars into your account for this Friday's payment and sign an auto-transfer to become effective from next Friday."

"But I have been with you only less than three complete days this week."

"Well, consider it's your lucky day, Nash, in more ways than one, and even I feel it's my lucky day to some degree. We must fly, don't forget to give Alayna an affectionate farewell."

"Goodbye, Alayna," called Hope, and they exchanged waves.

Nash stood at the cash registered, and Alayna came to him.

"Hi, Nash. It's all fixed, Mrs Honeybun paid."

"I know, I just came to say goodbye," said Nash, reaching across the counter to shake her hand.

Alayna licked her lips, reached over and pulled him towards her and gave him the sweetest of kisses.

"Now off you go. Oh, you'll be having late lunch at my place Saturday."

Hope was standing outside and handed Nash a notebook.

"You must not be with me without a notebook and pen," she said. "I'll drive to the shopping centre in Henderson while you write up things you remember from this morning, but leave out Alayna -- just background stuff and family names."

"Oh look at you, Alayna's plastered your face with lipstick. Stand still for a minute."

Hope wet her lace handkerchief with the tip of her tongue and gently rubbed at Nash's mouth. He closed his eyes, no longer prepared to look at the fully covered heaving bosom just in front of his eyes. Now that really was a real pair of tits. Despite having his eyes closed, he felt movement below his belt. Fortunately he was spared embarrassment as she finished the clean-up quickly. Hope unlocked the passenger door for him and smiled at his surprise as having the door held open for him.

"We country girls have class," she said, locking eyes and not blinking.

After clearing away after dinner that evening, Hope invited Nash to relax on one of the sofas in the lounge.

"Sprawl out and I'll fetch liqueurs."

Hope handed Nash a smallish glass producing an enticing fragrance.

"What is it?"

"Enjoy -- it's Glayva Scotch Whisky Liqueur over ice. Glayva means 'very good' in Scots Gaelic."

"Hmmm. Exceedingly nice. Thank you madam."

They chatted, Hope enjoying having a house guest to exercise her conversational skills. While Monty was very good company, he was a rather mute companion although a fair listener. This was her chance to find whether Nash had substance beyond his slick one-liners and casual comments.