Sundown Crossing (8 page)

It didn’t matter to her that, strictly speaking, he was not of Stenmark blood. His mother had been unable to conceive naturally and after seven years of a childless marriage, he had been adopted. That didn’t matter to Grandfather either. At just on thirty-four he was being groomed to take control of Rhein Schloss when Grandfather retired. If and when he retired! Rhein Schloss was his life and Luke couldn’t imagine him not being involved. The wine business had been his salvation after Rolfe’s banishment and later, after Kurt and
Marta’s deaths. And even though Grandfather was now an octagenarian he couldn’t picture Carl Stenmark not being at the company’s helm for several more years at the very least what with its many vineyards under the company banner, and with its export trade growing every season.

After dessert they gravitated to the living room, which his mother had redecorated and made more comfortable. Margit had already deposited a cheese platter and biscuits on the coffee table, together with a percolator, cups and a bottle of port.

Lisel, more often than not at this time, was first to take her leave. ‘I’ve a date in town,’ she told everyone. She winked at Luke and said quietly enough so that only he heard the words, ‘Wish me luck, hey!’

He knew his aunt well, and that it was likely she wouldn’t return home until tomorrow, sneaking in without Grandfather knowing she’d had a romantic liaison. Everyone at Stenhaus was used to Lisel’s amorous ways but no one told Grandfather that his youngest daughter had, over the years, become sexually promiscuous. They deemed it wiser for the old man to maintain the illusion that Lisel was…normal. However, Luke knew there would, invariably, be a man waiting for her at some prearranged rendezvous. Her affairs with men—often younger than herself—were always passionate and brief, with Lisel controlling the situation and the assignations.

‘Don’t know where she gets the energy,’ Greta said with a shake of her head as she took the silver tray around.

‘From when she was very small that one always had plenty of energy.’ Carl reminisced. ‘Lisel could wear us all out, especially her mother.’ In momentary reflection his gaze settled on the painting of Anna Louise. A melancholy smile curved his mouth and softened his aged features. He raised his port glass in a silent salute to his long-dead wife.

‘With all her energy Lisel’s a great asset to the company, sir. Always coming up with innovative ideas for promoting and marketing,’ Josh said as he followed Carl’s gaze to the portrait. Anna Louise had been a looker in her day, he thought as he sipped the quality port. Rhein Schloss had a reputation for putting down the best port in the Valley, ageing it in oak casks for eight to ten years and selling the bottles of liqueur port for obscenely high prices.

Josh watched Lisel slip unobtrusively from the room. Slut! That’s what she was and everyone in the room other than the old man knew it. Wouldn’t mind a bit of a lash with her, he admitted, but he was too smart to come on to the high and mighty Lisel, even though he’d heard that she didn’t mind a bit of rough-and-tumble sex. Still, he gave her credit for being discreet. She chose her partners from people she worked with, or amongst those in the Valley—discontented husbands, travellers, even the occasional tourist who took her fancy.

He knew all about Lisel because Josh made it his business to know as much as he could about the Stenmarks. Knowledge was power and he was into power, seeing it as a way to better himself. Sucking up to Luke and old Carl helped too. He’d risen from the bottle-packing line on the winery floor to operations manager in three years. They didn’t realise he was brown-nosing, but while he had moments of self-loathing for doing it, he did so because he saw it as a means to an end. His ultimate goal was to get into executive management, away from the blue-collar workers and the smell of fermentation. Being an executive, he’d decided, was where the real money and power lay.

Though he’d been at the Stenmark home before, Josh’s gaze wandered around the room again, taking in the décor of understated elegance and wealth. Greta, like Anna Louise before her, had superb taste. He’d been invited to dinner a couple of times and he wanted Carl to make it a regular thing. If that happened it would show everyone that he had an inside track to the inner circle of Rhein Schloss management, and that he was becoming indispensable to the old man and the heir apparent.

Luke could definitely be regarded as the heir now because Carl’s other son, Rolfe, had died without making things up with the old man. He knew about Rolfe’s banishment, everyone in the Valley did, but the man must have been some
kind of fool not to weasel his way back into favour once Kurt was out of the picture.

Carl wanting the Krugerhoff acres was interesting too, he thought. The old man was a possessive bugger. A pity, really. He had some money put aside and wouldn’t have minded bidding for the land himself but if the Stenmarks wanted it, no doubt they’d be the ones who’d get it. Josh controlled the inclination to sneer. The Stenmarks were always successful because having a great deal of money and influence assured that they would be.

He held his glass out when John offered a second port. Shit, man, wasn’t this the life and boy, he was hungry for a bigger slice of it. Maybe, he thought as he sipped the smooth liquid, he’d take a drive and check out Krugerhoff when he got a spare moment. See why old Stenmark wanted it so much.

Angie drove the hired compact Mazda along the Barossa Valley Highway because she knew the Valley, having spent several years at the viticulture college, before working for some time in Europe. She’d heard that it had closed and courses in winemaking and viticulture were now being done at Adelaide University instead of Roseworthy College.

Carla, watching vineyard after vineyard pass by, shook her head in wonder at the high rate of vine cultivation and the proliferation of wineries. In the last two weeks she had done some
homework on the Barossa and the Stenmark family, learning all she could through the embryonic technological medium of the internet, thanks to an up-to-date Christchurch library. It was a wonderful learning and information tool that was growing daily in popularity. Before they’d left Christchurch she’d received three more offers to buy Krugerhoff—two from real estate agents in the Barossa Valley on behalf of unnamed interested parties, and a second, improved offer from Michaels Realty, which only added more fuel to her curiosity about the inherited vineyard.

Having scoured her father’s journal several times, and with each reading, learning about and bonding with him a little more because of what she now knew, Carla had been puzzled by the level of interest—until now. Seeing the cultivation in the Valley, the emphasis on tourism and winery bottle sales she understood why the old, small holding could be regarded as valuable. Since landing in Adelaide, she had tried to ignore thoughts of rejuvenating Krugerhoff, especially if she had Angie to help her. She personally knew little about winemaking and vine cultivation and…a voice inside her head argued, wouldn’t it be too big a wrench to leave Christchurch? She had lived in the South Island town since her early teens and it was home to her. Angie had told her that forty acres of cultivated vines and the winery could produce a substantial vintage, enough to provide a comfortable living for her, Angie and Sam, without her having to teach. But she did
enjoy face-to-face teaching. The possibilities were tempting and for the moment and until she knew more, she couldn’t completely disregard them.

She recalled something she’d heard her father say many times.
If you see an opportunity grab it with both hands and don’t let go. It may never come your way again.

Was that why he’d left her Krugerhoff? Because he saw it as an opportunity for her and Sam to become financially independent and to be reunited with his relatives? He could have sold the acres years ago and made life easier for himself at Valley View, but he hadn’t. Darn…She could give herself a headache worrying over the whys and wherefores of her father’s reasoning and still be none the wiser!

‘It feels as if I’m coming home,’ Angie said softly as they passed through Tanunda. ‘I’ve missed this place.’

Sam, who was sitting in the back seat, looked at the countryside and gave his opinion. ‘Nothing but vines, forever and ever. Looks pretty boring to me.’

‘Sam!’ Carla wasn’t impressed. ‘You weren’t bored at Grandpa’s, were you?’

‘No. Grandpa used to teach me about the grapes, and tell me stories. It was interesting at Valley View.’ He changed the subject. ‘Mum, I liked being in the plane, that was cool, but this is a strange place for a holiday. Why are we here?’

‘I told you, Sam, to look at Grandpa’s old vineyard. I might decide to sell it but I want to
see it before I make such an important decision.’ She hadn’t told him anything about the Stenmark family. She chose to keep that as a surprise.

‘Oh, yeah. I forgot.’ He went back to playing with his much-treasured Star Wars figures.

Angie gave Carla a sideways knowing look and said, ‘It’ll be late afternoon by the time we get to Nuriootpa. Do you want to check into the motel I booked, get settled, and look at Krugerhoff in the morning or…?’

‘The agent has the keys. I asked him to have the electricity, water and gas reconnected. I want to see the place today, so I can get an idea as to what it’s like. Tomorrow there’ll be plenty of time for a thorough inspection.’ She chose not to tell Angie what the real estate agent had said about Krugerhoff—the property was derelict, a real mess.

Angie tossed her head back and chuckled. ‘I thought you would. You’re so much like Rolfe. Do it today. Why wait till tomorrow was one of his axioms.’

‘I remember Dad saying that.’ So many things about her father were just memories now, as they were with Derek. That’s what happened when a loved one passed on. The present stopped, leaving only the past. Time capsules, scenes, things said, happy and sad times to be remembered with love.

‘We’ll go to the agent’s office first? I think he’s in First Street.’

As Angie stopped the car near the two metre high, rusty wire gates, Carla tried to recall how her father had described and drawn the perimeters of Krugerhoff—Darn. Why hadn’t she brought his journal? Mmm, too late to worry about that now. She saw that the wooden sign proclaiming the winery’s name had been worn down over time until only the upright posts, leaning at an angle, remained. Little could be seen beyond the gates because a proliferation of low shrubs and stripling gums had grown up over the years. Carla could see a single track leading from the side of the gate into the property.

Carla took out the key ring containing half a dozen keys that the agent had given her. She fitted the first one in the lock, but it wouldn’t turn. In succession she tried the others, all to no avail. Either she had the wrong set of keys or the lock’s internal mechanism had rusted up, rendering it useless.

‘It’s gonna rain, Mum,’ Sam prophesied from behind his mother and Angie. He was staring up at a darkening sky. A mass of grey clouds hung ominously above them. In the distance they could hear crackling thunder and see flashes of lightning. The bush was still and soundless…another sign that rain was imminent.

‘Let me try,’ Angie offered. She took the keys off Carla.

The three, engrossed in gaining entry to Krugerhoff, didn’t hear a Land Rover stop on the
verge of the road. A tall, rangy man wearing a weather-beaten hat, khaki shorts and a zip-up vest over a khaki shirt, unfolded himself from behind the driver’s wheel and got out. He walked lightly considering his height and weight, almost soundlessly, towards them.

‘Hey! You okay there? Do you need some help?’

Shock caused Angie to drop the keys in the dirt. ‘Damn!’

The three turned to look at the stranger.

‘Are you a policeman, mister?’ Sam asked as he stared curiously at the man’s dirty elasticised boots and overall khaki look.

‘No way, buddy.’ He grinned at Sam. ‘I’m Paul van Leeson, I live down the end of this road. You have a problem?’

‘Hello, I’m Carla Hunter,’ Carla introduced herself, Angie and Sam. ‘I…I the real estate agent gave me these keys to Krugerhoff but none seem to work.’

‘Kiwis, hey!’ Paul acknowledged their nationality then said matter of factly. ‘The lock’s probably stiff, or stuffed. I’ll get my can of WD– 40. Lubricating the lock might free it up.’

Angie and Carla looked at each other as Paul loped back to the Land Rover.

‘He’s nice,’ Angie whispered, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Carla.

‘If you like them long and lean,’ Carla countered, straight-faced.

Paul returned carrying a can and sprayed a small burst from it into the lock opening. He put
the can in his vest pocket then held his hand out for the key. ‘I’ll give it a go if you like.’

‘Thanks.’ Angie handed over the keys.

With a minimum of fiddling he opened the lock and without being asked to, began to push back the wire gates. ‘These haven’t been opened for a while,’ he said with a grunt. ‘Thinking of buying Krugerhoff?’ he stated the obvious. ‘Funny,’ he scratched the tip of his nose in contemplation, ‘I wasn’t aware of it being on the market.’

‘Er, no. We just want to take a look,’ Carla’s evasive answer surprised even herself. ‘Thanks for helping us, Mr van Leeson. Very kind of you.’ He was staring at her, a quizzical expression in his grey eyes. She didn’t like that—it was almost as if he thought he knew her though she was sure she’d never set eyes on him before. Cheeky Australian! She wondered if all Australian men were as bold, but then in the next instant dismissed the thought.

‘Call me Paul,’ he insisted. ‘Here.’ He took the can out of his pocket and held it out to Carla. ‘I see you have other keys. You might need the old WD-40 again.’

‘I couldn’t…’ Carla shook her head but Angie had no problems in taking the can from him.

‘Thanks. How can we get it back to you?’ the ever-practical Angie asked.

‘If you’re staying at Nuriootpa, drop it at my office in Gawler Street. Otherwise just leave it by the gate when you’re done. Can’t miss the office though. It’s the best looking building in the
street.’ He gave them an all-encompassing cheeky grin. ‘I’m the architect who designed and built it.’ He reached into his vest pocket again, pulled out a business card and gave it to the receptive Angie.