A Fantasy About Love

A tale about love, of personal relationships getting close and fading away,

Of business challenges and successes

And of four people deeply in love

THE ENCOUNTER

Chapter 1: A Felicitous Encounter

"James, what are you still doing here? You have not forgotten that there is a party at my house in two hours?"

I looked up from my computer screen where I was trying to find a way around a complicated personnel problem. Should I remove that guy from his position, and if yes, whereto? I was a bit upset because a glimmer of an idea had just appeared and now it was gone. The situation was not very comfortable for the company: Last year's sales had been disappointing, the sales quota had just been missed, the annual Regional Sales Convention in Bali had only a few representatives from IBM Australia, and everyone from HQ to the last salesman was thoroughly pissed off. It was early into the new year and the company urgently needed a success story to pick itself up. I believed that it was more a management problem than anything else -- there were more than enough prospects out there to improve the situation rapidly, but nobody took the initiative to get things rolling.

Peter Hamill was my colleague in the computer company, responsible for retail sales whilst I was the Large Account Manager having recently arrived from New York. I was responsible for selling big mainframe computers and everything was still new to me; especially certain attitudes displayed with enthusiasm by my Australian coworkers were rather upsetting for my organized German mind. I remembered, however, that I had agreed during the week to go to the party but had forgotten my promise completely.

"Peter, can I beg off? I am late resolving this problem and need to prepare a presentation for Monday early morning for our boss. I promise that I'll join you next time."

Peter was leaning against the door frame; a tall, blond and a typical laid-back Australian surfer type. He was competent but seemed to have other interests in his life beside his career, principally his dedication to wines. He did not like the answer very much. He had already changed from his formal business suit to casual Friday afternoon attire, with a light blue shirt, a grey trouser and a cashmere pullover draped around his shoulders.

"Come on, you have been sitting there for hours staring at that screen. Do you believe that staring for another three or four hours will resolve the problem? Relax a bit, come to my party, talk up some girls and you might have a possibility to find an alternative to the black hole you're in."

I had to agree with Peter -- at this moment there was absolutely nothing on my mind, which even remotely looked like a way out of this quandary. I could sit there for hours getting more and more upset or go off on a completely different track to loosen up and start new. Considering the funk I was slowly entering, Peter's suggestion seemed much more appealing. I glanced out of the windows; from my 21st floor window I could see the tiny triangles of colorful sails of the sailboats getting back to harbor and if they could spend the afternoon forgetting the world why should I spend my time thinking about the company? In addition, earlier this week had been my anniversary and all I got was lunch with Peter -- the wine he selected was superb, though.

"OK. Two hours at your house. Anything I should or could bring?"

"Just yourself, and please be in a better mood!"

Peter left and I shut off the computer, locked my door and left. It seemed that no one was left on this floor -- after all, on a Friday night everybody just vanishes as soon as the magic moment of four o'clock arrives. Only the reception area still had people sitting at the counter and chatting.

"Good evening, Mr. Winter. Late as usual?"

"Tony, work never stops and if you want to be successful, you just have to give everything, and often a bit more."

"Mr. Winter, just remember that you have to live to have a life, and pardon me saying so, you don't have one!"

"Tony, truer words were never spoken, but you know how things are. Being new in the country and in the company requires an extra effort, but I just hope that things will slow down soon."

Tony looked at me with a smile.

"Well, Mr. Winter, I wish you a good evening and a good weekend and see you on Monday."

"Thanks, Tony. You might see me on the weekend working."

"Mr. Winter, I have more common sense than this. For me it will be the beach, some beers, a barbeque and some pretty girls."

I left the building and thought that Australians had a much easier outlook on life than the people I had met working in other countries. They were more open and more direct, and whilst they were working hard, they also seemed to enjoy their free time with much more enthusiasm. It was difficult for me to keep up with them, at least privately.

I turned left and walked to my apartment. It was a pleasant late summer evening even after a recent uncharacteristically cold spell, and my mood picked up a bit.

I had been very lucky when I arrived; a senior manager had been transferred to headquarters in the US. Since it was an at least three years assignment, he wanted to let his apartment and had offered it to me. It was close to the company's building, the center of the city, and the Opera House and many good hotels and restaurants were not far. The rent was not cheap, but I could afford it easily.

I walked for about five minutes and entered the apartment building. Pressing the 14th floor button, another tenant hurried into the lobby. I had seen her before; a pretty woman, well dressed and always polite. I smiled at her, holding the door for her and when she stepped out on the 11th floor, she turned back to me and gave me a brilliant smile in return. I tried one of my rare smiles, but when I found the courage to say something she had already turned away. I told myself that I was a fool, indeed. The opportunity comes and I let it walk away. When would I learn?"

I shrugged my shoulders and when the elevator stopped at the 14

th

floor, entered my apartment. It was big for a single man, with everything one could wish for, two bedrooms en suite and a large sitting room, a separate dining room, and a small balcony with a good view over the city towards the Harbour Bridge.

There was some mail: some bills, two tickets, and some publicity trash. I looked at the tickets and was surprised -- they were for the next day at the Sydney Opera, and the performance was 'Norma' with Joan Sutherland. I had completely forgotten that I had put my name on a long waiting list and since miracles still happen, there they were. Two tickets for the night! Expensive, but since I adored operas and Joan Sutherland even more, nothing better could have happened. I stopped: two tickets? Then I remembered that one was for my colleague who had to travel suddenly on business. Well, even paying for two tickets was much better than not seeing Joan Sutherland.

I looked at my watch and changed into my casual attire: a black trouser, a white shirt, a smart green cashmere pullover, and some comfortable black loafers. I looked at myself in the mirror: Tall, a bit over six feet, blond hair with some grey strands already visible, slender, but strong from my martial art classes - acceptable, I thought. I decided that I would stay at the party for half an hour, invent some excuses and go out for a late dinner. There were enough good restaurants that I would always find one I enjoyed.

I went back to the elevator -- the pretty lady would appear again? but unfortunately, all that was left for me was to go down and take my car to drive to Peter's house on the other side of Sydney.

The noise was disturbing: loud noises and loud music. I parked the car close to the house. I wondered how Peter managed to keep his neighbors from calling the police, but that was not my problem. I just wanted to pay my respects, staying a few minutes and then leave. My host looked at me when I entered, already a bit flushed and I hoped that the party was not already at an exaggerated pace.

"James, here you are. I started to believe that you would not come and was getting rather upset. Look around, the food's there, the booze is on the other table and lots of girls around. Take your pleasure!"

l looked around and it was as Peter had said. It was a big room with lots of food and booze, and some very pretty girls standing in groups and gossiping - probably about the men who were standing on the other side of the room and looking at the girls. I thought 'why not 'and tasted the food, commercial and not very tasty, and some wine, even worse, obviously selected for the price and not for quality. That left the girls and I wondered what to do next. I had to stay another twenty minutes at least and I asked myself how I would survive this.

Suddenly Peter appeared again.

"James, please help me out. I have the daughter of a business friend here and she doesn't seem to enjoy the party. Can you use some of your continental charm and entertain her a bit? I would be eternally grateful."

I wondered where this was coming from and somewhat doubtful, asked why she needed entertainment in this noisy crowd.

"Why is she alone? Any problems? Why me?"

"No, James. She is from Brisbane and still rather too young to be in this mess. Her mother asked me to look after her during this weekend, but somehow things got out of control. I believe that you are more her type than these people who will get me very soon in trouble. I would owe you big-time if you would make this effort. Talk to her, get her a drink, and I will allow you to go home early. Please."

"You want me to babysit a girl? Are you crazy?"

"James, she is not a girl. She is a young woman, intelligent, rather pretty and in her last year on the Brisbane University."

I just looked at him.

"Pray tell, why do I have to babysit her? If she is what you say, where are the young men clustering about her?"

He hummed and hawed a bit and murmured something like she was very reserved and introvert, and she preferred to be alone. He had promised her mother, however, that he would make certain that nothing would happen to her, not now and not during the weekend.

"Peter, are you telling me that you expect me to look after the young lady the whole weekend? Are you out of your mind? I have things to do and showing her the lights of the big city -- which I must say I do not know well - is not on my agenda for the next few days."

He looked at me trying to come up with some arguments. At the end, he reminded me that he had helped me to settle in, arranged the apartment and the car and that I should be eager to get him out of the hole. What could I do?

"Peter, let's agree that I do this tonight, but forget the weekend and we are even for whatever you have done for me during the last months OK? And by the way: why do you have to do favors for her mother?"

"She runs a company in Brisbane, and I have been trying to do business with her, but always unsuccessfully. I must admit she is too smart for me, and her daughter is in the same league."

"Are you telling me that you are afraid of a woman? You out of all people I know here?"

He tried to change the 'afraid' to 'respect', but I did sense that he was not very eager to contradict me.

"OK, my soon to be ex-friend. Lead me to the slaughter."

He took me to a remote corner of the house where a woman was sitting, staring at her laptop.

"Maureen, may I introduce James Winter? He is new in the country and I wondered whether you could tell him a bit about our country. He's a workaholic and it's a miracle that he appeared tonight -- after some pressure, I admit. James, this is Maureen Monahan. James, get the lady some wine while I look after my other guests".

With that introduction he turned and ran away.

Maureen looked up at me and seemed absolutely puzzled. She had long, thick and lustrous red hair curling to her shoulders, a very pretty face with some freckles, and dressed in some greyish skirt and pullover. She turned and looked for the rapidly disappearing Peter and then turned back to me, gazing at me for a short while. That was the moment I realized that she had the most wonderful eyes I had ever seen in my life. Huge green eyes with a sparkle of blue and grey, and I had to get myself under control not to stare at her.

"Mr. Winter, I don't really know what I can tell you about Australia. I've travelled a bit, but I am certain that there are many more people, probably even in this room, who could be much more helpful."

With that remark, she looked at her laptop again.

I had been dismissed before, but not in such a situation, and it hurt. After all, I was not ugly, dressed in care and quality clothes, had been educated by my mother to behave politely in my family's tradition, and it had never been implied that I was dumb and boring. What was this girl thinking?

"Ms. Maureen, our host told me to get you a drink. What would you prefer? Wine? Mineral water? Gin Tonic? It is getting warm in here and you must feel thirsty."

Not the most brilliant remark, but she accepted that she could not escape so easily. Her eyes captured me again, reflecting the ceiling's lights and transforming her irises to an incredible emerald. Her mood had not improved, however.

"I am fine, thank you."

This started to intrigue me. I did not know why I cared, but I wanted to get a civilized comment for my attempts of social courtesy. And she seemed to be cute.

"I see that you have tried the wine, and, in my opinion, it is not very drinkable. I know, however, that Peter has some very good wines in his cellar. If you promise not to move for five minutes, I'll see what I can dig up."

"If you must insist. At least I can finish my article in peace."

Not the most positive response to my attempts, but a door had opened. Finding Peter was difficult, but finally, I cornered him in the kitchen. I told him that I needed a bribe for the girl to start to look at me, and that bribe was a bottle of one of his better wines, not the plonk he served today. He tried to avoid the sacrifice, as he really liked his wines and spent a lot of money and time on his hobby. Only after threatening to leave and let him resolve his problem on his own, he relented and selected a bottle of red wine. It was a Grange Hermitage, and even I, not an oenophile, had heard about it and was duly impressed. He opened the bottle and poured some into a glass, sniffed it, tasted it, moaned, and finally gave me the bottle, saying wistfully good-bye to his treasure.

"Make certain that you treat this wine with reverence, as it is one of Australia's best wines."

I got two different glasses -- he insisted that I needed those glasses for this wine -- and went back to see what I could do about Maureen. I was lucky, too, because she was closing her laptop and getting up, preparing to leave. She was above average height -- perhaps close to six feet -- slender and dressed in the uniform of the young -- jeans and pullover, grey and black of course, but she could not hide that there were curves in the right places.

"Maureen, please look at what I have found. You can't walk away from one of Peter's treasures. He told me that this is a good wine and, in his words, has to be revered. Please sit down, at least for a moment, and enjoy this treasure."

She looked at me and I could see in her eyes that she was weighing in her mind her decision to leave against the need to be courteous to a friend of her host. Then she looked again at the wine and the tip of her tongue appeared, unconsciously licking her lips. Her mind was made up.

"Oh ... I have drunk that wine once before in my mother's house. Perhaps just a sip ... but only for a moment. I really have to go and read one more article for my seminar tomorrow morning."

I wondered for a moment about the 'my mother's house': did she live on her own or was there another story hidden? She gracefully sat down and tucked her legs under the chair. I poured the wine and we clicked our glasses.

"To your health and an interesting seminar tomorrow but pray tell what made you change your mind. The wine or my charming nature?"

She looked at me again and smiled rather sarcastically.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Probably not, but please, but what is so special about it? Peter said that it is a good wine, but to change your mind and stay a few minutes with me, it has to be better than good."

She lifted her glass, inhaled the bouquet, looked at the color, and inhaled again. She closed her eyes and seemed to go away for a moment. Opening her eyes - did I say already that she had huge-greenish eyes that drew you in - she swirled the glass, repeated everything and sipped carefully. A small sigh of satisfaction signaled that she had found something she hadn't expected.

"What do you understand about wines?"

I did understand a bit through my friends and travels, but her reaction seemed likely to keep her around. A student probably in her last year, appreciative of fine wines, she might be impressed enough to try to teach me something -- and stay around longer. This was all I wanted at this moment.

"Well, there are red wine and white wine, of course. And don't forget the rosés and French champagne. Some are awful, some are good, and a few are very good. That essentially covers it."

She stared at me again and visibly wondered why Peter had given me this treasure.

"I agree, though there are greater differences than simply red and white wines, or good or bad ones. There are bad ones, good ones, extremely good ones, and the rare exception -- and this wine is one of them. It is probably the best red wine that Australia produces. What do you sense when you try it?"

I repeated her performance and she was absolutely spot on, it was a real treasure. Should I agree with her or pretend ignorance so that she'd feel inclined to instruct me? After all, this was not a wine you drank every day. Her face had changed completely, and it seemed that she had become alive. It reflected not just a basic knowledge, but someone who intensively enjoyed the pleasures of her life. I decided to play the ignorant way. Not too ignorant, but enough she'd continue to teach me.

"Well, it has a nice color, a full bouquet, and I've been told several times that I should say that a red wine reminded me of red fruits. So maybe cherries? Blueberries? A bit of vanilla?"

As she shook her head, I noted that I was getting more interested in looking at her than drinking the wine, even this one. She was even more pleasing to look at than drinking this wonderful wine.

"James, let me tell you something. When you drink a good wine, you go through a ritual that gives you a deeper understanding of what you are doing and why you are feeling certain sensations. There are four basic steps: see it, swirl it, smell it, sip it. See it, examine the color. Young wines are usually lighter in color. Swirl it, and the bouquet will open faster. Smell it and detect those fruity notes: white for citrus or similar, red for berries. And finally, sip it to determine whether you like it. Then you look for tannins or dryness, and terroir, or complexity and character. There may be some oak, or vanilla as you mentioned. This wine is a mixture of at least two grapes, normally a Shiraz and some Cabernet Sauvignon. Are you still with me?"

She startled me, since I had been staring at her sparkling eyes, her face alive with her fascination with this topic. She was so different from the woman who had sat there staring at her laptop and now she'd transformed from a young girl into a pretty woman. My attention had been to be a guest at Peter's party and hoping to get away early to continue my project, and now I was hoping to stay a few more minutes or hours with her. I wasn't quite sure had caused this response in me - a pretty and smiling woman in front of me making me forget my loneliness as I worked feverishly during all these months?