Valley of Sinners Ch. 06

SO FAR: A jobless and sensitive young man becomes innocently associated with a bubbling woman in her late forties who lives alone on a vineyard out of Auckland, New Zealand. Nash is attracted because Hope Honeybun drives a beautifully re-built and upgraded 1939 Chevy pick-up and draws him from his ‘shell’ with ease. Hope Honeybun’s interest in young Mr Carson is that he writes a little and seems to have a worldly sense so installs him downstairs as resident author and commissions him to write a novel based on her colorful and turbulent life, much of which spans the time she has lived in the valley. Maggie's secret has been revealed and Nash learns more about the mysterious Catherine Hausman.

*

Pretty Mimi Bronkovic is the most outgoing of the Bronkovic women as well as being the oldest, but at forty-five she’s only a year older that Ana and three years older than her other sister-in-law Yela. Hope and Maggie gave her a couple of years and Neven, the oldest of their generation, was five years older than his food-loving wife Mimi who only through binge dieting managed to keep her weight in check.

No-one in the valley had expected the eldest and somewhat conservative – in the traditional family sense of the word – son of Josip Bronkovic to marry a New Zealand woman without European lineage and they were right. Indeed, there was talk about the oldest of the Bronkovic brothers not marrying at all despite his two brothers already having taken the walk up the church aisle.

In despair in 1987 Neven parents insisted that their thirty-three year old son accept airline tickets from them to visit France in the off season to increase his knowledge and expertise in the art of wine-making and vineyard management. At the same time they arranged for their son, in the twilight of prime marrying age, to visit relatives in his parent’s original homeland. Josip and Natasa’s expectation was that their boy would return with a potentially hard-working bride of Dalmatian origin. But that was not to be.

Neven returned empty-handed but smitten, in love with a French woman, five years his junior. He never made it beyond France before his return home. Mimi’s haughty parents, who operated a three hundred year old family winery where Neven spent almost three months, were unmovable – they had no problem about their daughter having a fling with this powerfully built and single-minded New Zealander, but Mimi must marry a Frenchman, and that was that.

Initially Mimi accepted her parent’s wishes, and when Neven left shed few tears – she was used to a procession of lovers passing through her home or village and actually had no intention of marrying. But gradually she began to mope and realised that Neven was a lover without peer, the only lover whom she genuinely liked. In fact she now believed he was adorable.

One afternoon – seven months after Neven’s departure and definitely not pregnant – Mimi ostensibly left home to stay the weekend with an old school friend in England. The next day the now very focused Mimi was in London, boarding a flight to New Zealand.

She arrived at Te Henui village by cab from Henderson and on the street spoke in excellent English to a pretty blonde woman and asked for directions to the home of Neven Bronkovic.

Amazingly, the woman hugged her and said she must be Mimi.

“I’ve known Neven for much of my life,” enthused this friendly woman calling herself by the strange name of Hope Honeybun. “Neven has told me all about you – over and over again, actually. Are you here to marry him?”

Overwhelmed by the knowledge and friendliness of this woman, travel-weary Mimi could only nod.

“Look, you cannot stay in the home of your fiancée, you must come with me and stay as the house guest of my father and myself for as long as you wish.”

Realising this was not an offer to be refused, Mimi accepted, therein establishing a close and lasting friendship with this very sophisticated woman called Hope Honeybun.

The wedding was held a month later, The only people from France attending were Mimi’s cousin, Brigitte Moreau and husband Chaney. Mimi’s own family had excommunicated her. Her bridesmaid was the unmarried sister of Drago’s wife Ana while Hope took the role of bride’s mother including totally organising the event in consultation with Mimi and the groom’s mother Natasa. Cedric Honeybun, as stand-in father, gave her away and flower girl for the twenty-four year old bride was Maggie Tait’s beautiful thirty month old daughter, Alayna.

Before too long, the relationship between the Mimi and Hope cooled somewhat through Mimi having entered into a relationship with Hope’s father.

Mimi had difficulty accepting that she’d allowed such a relationship to occur and it continued sporadically. She drew away from Hope a little, fearful that Hope would find out and Mimi was aware she’d be unable to justify her behaviour.

However, from the time of Cedric’s death the relationship between the two women soon flourished as never before. Occasionally Mimi wondered that perhaps Hope knew about her adulterous relationship, but by then the maturing woman was aware that Hope herself was no lily-white: although lacking evidence she was convinced that Neven and Hope’s youthful romantic entanglement was continuing. She’d detected Hope’s favourite French perfume on Neven several times. An understandable kiss, perhaps? No, not in places on Neven where she’d thought she could detect it! Mimi was not devastated, however, as the French understand such things. Life goes on, at least unless the ultimate showdown occurs.

Seventeen years later, with Neven’s and Mimi’s two children approaching adulthood, a thin-faced and slightly tentative young man arrived at the Te Henui Winery which was producing mainly for the cellar-door and the supermarket/local wineshop trade, with its premium wines selling via agencies into niche markets stretching from Dubai to Tokyo. In good years, up to twenty-five percent of its output wass exported. Sales via the internet are also increasing, thanks to a web site, professionally designed and maintained by the son of one of Hope’s ‘gentlemen friends’.

“Good morning,” greeted Mimi, addressing the cellar door’s first call-in customer of the day. “Would you care to taste a small range of our product – currently we’re offering tastings of our cabernet-merlot-franc blend, an off-dry reisling, a robust chardonnay and an upmarket merlot?”

“Not just now, thank you. What I’d rather much like is a strong cup of black coffee and perhaps two chocolate biscuits?”

The audacity of the man, Mimi thought with a shrug, finding she was captivated by the man’s gentle smile and his radiance. His radiance? She was not sure what she meant by that so hurried off to pour a mug of instant coffee and opened a pack of biscuits normally reserved for VIP visitors.

“You are around from here, I believe,” Mini said, returning with the tray. “I’ve seen you in the village walking a dog, Mrs Honeybun’s dog I think?”

Automatically holding an arm across her chest to avoid the straining material of her dress revealing too much, she leaned forward and offers Nash a chocolate biscuit which was whipped off the plate with enthusiasm.

“Thanks,” he said. “I really didn’t expect these, I just had the urge to try you on.”

“Try me on?” Mimi gaped, a little startled. In her understanding of Kiwi idiom, that meant only one thing.

“Oh, sorry. You’re foreign, aren’t you?”

“Oui, I am French.”

“A lovely country and very interesting people from what I’ve seen on the big screen. What I was meaning is I had the urge to be cheeky. Dunno why – I guess you look kind of cute.”

“Me cute?” Mimi said, unable to avoid looking pleased and displaying a slight blush; since Cedric’s death no casual male had murmured flirtatious remarks to her.

“Only young children are cute, no? You see me as a child?”

“Oh no, not a child,” he said, looking straight at her with almost a Cedric smile.

Mimi’s blush returned.

What an interesting young man. He was Hope’s man; Hope had told her a young man was staying in her house and he would be writing a family history for her.

“I’m Nash, Nash Carson. I am a guest at the home of Mrs Honeybun. I am doing some work for her.”

“How do you do,” Mimi said, shaking the offered hand. “I now know who you are as Hope has told me about you. I am Mimi Bronkovic.”

“How do you do. I now know who you are as Hope has told me about you,” Nash responded, to her astonishment mimicking her accent incredibly well.

Mimi giggled but recovered quickly, knowing that Neven was not far away in the office and Marko, Ana and Yela were also nearby, although on the noisy bottling line doing a run of two-year-old Te Henui Old Riverbank Carbenet/Merlot.

“You must not tease me like that,” she whispered, glancing towards the office.

The impudent man grinned.

“Are you able to show me around and explain the overall operation please Mimi, or am I required to make an appointment?”

The question unnerved Mimi slightly. The winery’s policy was no tours for members of the public, but this young man was not public – he was in the employment of Hope Honeybun, the winery’s largest shareholder.

Nash was quick to spot the change as the generous mouth of the pink-faced blue-eyed off-blonde puckered slightly. She slid her hands up and down her thighs a little nervously.

“Neven doesn’t welcome visitors?”

Mimi gasped. Just how much had Hope been telling this Nash? She pushed the plate with the remaining biscuit towards him and said, “Excuse me, I’ll ask my husband to show you through the winery.”

She came back, smiling.

“Come and meet my husband, he knows about you.”

The mass of Neven didn’t surprise Nash, as he’d seen a photo in Hope’s lounge of Neven and Hope holding an inter-club mixed pairs championship cup they'd won two years earlier. In that photo Neven appeared to be a full head taller than Hope and very much wider across the chest. He prepared to wince from a mangling grip crushing his fingers, but the handshake was nothing more than firm, and the smile genuinely welcoming.

“Nice to meet you Nash, anyone meeting Hope’s approval is welcome here. I’m rushing to get documentation for an export order completed, so you must excuse me. Mimi will show you around.”

They toured the winery, with Mimi explaining that on average around sixty percent of their output came from Te Henui grapes and the remainder is white grape juice, crushed and settled and then brought in mainly from the Gisborne Region, while they also bought some reds from sunnier Hawkes Bay which were chilled and trucked in overnight as grapes.

“In very good years, that occur every three to five years, we often can produce reserve label Sentinel Rock Chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon that are one hundred percent Te Henui sourced grapes,” she told Nash emphatically. “Neven will want you to note that.”

“Montgomery cab/sav?”

Mimi looked at him with delight.

“Oh, you know. That’s the premier product of this winery. That terrier I have seen you with in the village, he’s Montgomery the Fifth I think.”

Nash can’t think of anything to say, so nodded.

“Ah, I thought so when the connection between you and Hope was established within me.”

Nash grinned at the cuteness of the second language phraseology, but did not tease her.

“You know the origins of the name, perhaps?”

“No, I don’t Mimi. But I have wondered about it, meaning to ask.”

Nash looked at her deeply and she swallowed. This young man, he was much younger but a little like Cedric was, she thought. Mimi experienced a little flutter within her chest and stomach. How could that be? Although slightly diverted, she remembered to explain the origins of the name.

“Cedric – he was Hope’s father – was given a terrier pup by his neighbour. Cedric told me he could not decide upon a name so his neighbour, who’d fought in the Second World War suggested the name Montgomery after the odd-ball British warrior. The neighbour had served under General Montgomery, in North Africa I seem to remember, and was much admired by this neighbour who was giving Cedric the pup.”

“So, that explains it. Did you know Cedric intimately?”

“Intimately?” echoed Mimi, turning away quickly.

“Yes, did you know him well?”

“Oh, yes of course,” she returned to face him looking relieved. “Very well as he had lots to do with this family. In fact he gave me away at my wedding as my father was unable to come to New Zealand for my marriage.”

Mimi lead Nash through a doorway and said, “Here are my sisters-in-law. Nash Carson – this dark beauty nearest me is Yela, wife of Marko Bronkovic who’s down the far end of the bottling line, and over there is the vivacious Ana, wife of Neven’s other brother Drago.”

“Good morning, Mr Carson,” called the women in unison.

“You are the man living with Hope, we’ve heard about that,” Ana smiled.

“I’m living in her house, that’s all.” All three women titter at his seriousness. They heard a sharp whistle, and Marko called, “Quality control!” Yela and Ana immediately returned to checking the bottles emerging from the labelling machine.

Nash was introduced to Marko who wass very busy. They moved on.

“If you are still staying with Hope in the autumn you must return as our first lot of grapes will be arriving – usually the first Te Henui Valley harvest comes off Hope’s C-block and it will be so this season because the brothers inspected the crop yesterday and Drago has set the harvesting date with the contractors.”

“Machine harvesting, I guess.”

“Yes,” Mimi, said obviously pleased to learn that Nash was not totally ignorant about the process. “Of course, with the exception of our reserve wines, which are hand-picked and get tender loving care all the way through. In wine-making, all sorts of processes and techniques are employed,” she said, beginning a summary.

“Basically the grapes arrive in containers on trucks and are dumped into a sump near where you entered the winery. They are carried to the destemmer/crusher on a continuous conveyer. The grape berries are crushed and fall through the perforated cylinders and most of the stems eject through the end of the cylinder. Often Neven and Marko decide to place red grapes whole into tanks for a while to begin a different process, depending on a number of variables. You need to talk to Marko about that. The juice from white grapes is separated from the skins and seeds immediately after crushing, although even then occasionally the skins are not separated for twelve hours or so to increase colour extraction. A basket press separates the juice from the main solids and the juice is stored in temperature controlled stainless steel tanks where the remaining solids called lees settle on the bottom. After one or two days the clear juice is removed from the lees and filtered, and is ready for fermentation.”

She paused as asked, “Are you with me?” Nash, taking notes, nodded.

“The white wine is warmed and then inoculated with a selected yeast strain to enhance flavour and remains in its temperature controlled tanks for about three weeks. Except for our lowest-priced chardonnay label, our chardonnays are inoculated again for a malolactic fermentation which softens the wine for a better taste on the palate.”

She greeted an elderly man in a language other than English, not French thought Nash.

“For red wine, it is easier to ferment the skins, seeds and juice together, making separation in the press much more efficient. Of course colouring from the skins infuses red colouring into the juice. When fermentation is completed the red wine is pressed off to tanks or barrels for malolactic fermentaion to soften the wine. Then it is later run to oak for aging in the maturation cellar. I emphasise again that quality control is essential throughout the entire process as micro-organisms such as bacteria, moulds and yeast arrive on grape skins. Our wine makers must also encourage the development of desirable yeasts and finesse in control of temperature is vital.”

“You understand all this?” Mimi asked, taking a breather.

“Yes, it’s very complicated isn’t it?” Nash said as they passed rows of large stainless steel tanks. “I have a little knowledge, having made fruit wines with both success and also with disappointing results through excessive clouding, rampant yeast growth and development of unwanted odours.”

“Well, aren’t you an interesting young man? Here am I rattling on and you know all about it.”

“Er, no, Mimi. I’m a little boy lost in a winemaking venture on this scale.”

“That’s very honest of your to say that, Nash. But little boy, I think not.”

“Now, here we come to my favourite place of the whole operation. I call it the nursery, so walk quietly because our maturing wines are half asleep.”

She giggled, catching the surprised look on Nash’s face.

“I am joking,” she said, but out of habit I do walk into here quietly.”

The walls of the huge maturation cellar were lined with wine in casks of different sizes and a double width of stacked casks also ran through the centre of the cellar..

“What’s in these casks,” Nash whispered, pointing.

Mimi giggled but whispered in reply.

“These French oak barriques marked CH are chardonnay and further down you’ll see more marked RCH.”

“Reserve chardonnay,” Nash offered.

“Oooh, very good, and on our right are our reds. Right beside you is…”

Mimi tripped on a thick hose and lost her footing. She twisted and fell with a thump on to the concrete floor. Nash attempted to catch her but was only partly successful in reducing the impact of her fall. He pulled Mimi to her feet, and she leaned against him, catching her breath. She felt so soft and warm that Nash decided he’d better let go of her.

He stepped back a little, hands now on her shoulders and asked if she was all right.

“My right cheek, I’m going to have a big bruise,” she groaned.

Nash reached down,rubbing below her hip.

“It’s all right, I’ll do that,” Mimi said, stepping back and rubbing her behind. She was now breathing heavily and looking very intensely at Nash in the dimly lit cellar.

“I think you need a drink,” Nash said, taking Mimi by her other hand. She made no attempt to resist. “Look where you walk,” he chuckled.

Nash asked what was the current output of the winery.

“Last season we hit 52,000 cases for the first time but as we are a little over-stocked with some reds, the brothers will not buy in much Hawkes Bay red grapes this season.”

As they left the dimly-lit cellar, Mimi slipped her hand from Nash’s light grasp.

Back in the tasting room she cleared away the coffee cup and empty plate, returning with a bottle of dry riesling and three glasses. “It’s still early morning, so this wine is best I think.”

Mimi went to the office to ask Neven to join them, but the office was empty. She looked out and noted his car has gone.

“Cheers,” she said to her new friend, smiling openly.

Nash raisesd his glass in salute and smiled back, a very friendly smile.

* * *

The regional centre had a catchment area of well over 100,000 people. Driving into the mall carpark Hope pointed to a stand-alone medical centre: “That’s the site of our former home and daddy’s veterinary clinic.”

They entered the busy mall and Nash was disappointed, saying he’d been expecting something more substantial than a buffet luncheon or coffee shop fare. Hope smiled and lead him to an up-market restaurant on the top floor. Nash looked more at the the age-spreading ass in the dark business suit just head of him instead of watching his footing but managed the stairs without incident; Hope was wearing very high heeled black shoes and a plain gold shirt. Nash thought ‘stunning’ but when when he had seen her dressed before they left had offered the usual “You look nice,”