Miles stopped for a cup of coffee at a convenience store before returning to the winery. He tried to remember how much of a mess was left from the poker game. It didn't seem like it was that bad. Most of it could be removed with generous use of large trash bags. And, the windows had been left open to clear the air.
As Miles pulled into the winery, he saw Todd's big, black luxury car. Can't be good news, he thought. He parked in the public lot and went up to the winery building. It was locked, but Miles had a set of keys. He went into the front, locked the door behind him, and started looking around. He saw some print outs of register receipts in a pile. Todd was nosing around about the missing cases, he surmised. He heard the sound of voices in the upper room and went up to find Todd and a woman he didn't recognize. They had a spread of bagels and crème cheese, with foam cups of coffee like the one Miles had just bought. Todd barely glanced up at Miles.
"I see you decided to come back. We missed you last night."
This early, Miles thought, Todd already had him steaming mad. He kept his temper in check - after all, he had no idea who this was with Todd - obviously not his wife, Carol, who Miles generally found pleasant. "You know, Todd, I don't usually work on Friday nights anymore. I'm sure that Jimmy helped Brandon with any overflow." Miles felt some need to explain himself. "I went out of town and I was too tired to drive back. I found a place to stay." He hoped that implied that he had stopped at a motel. He looked at Todd's companion. "Hello. I'm Miles Delong. I'm the wine maker and general manager here." He knew that it would annoy Todd, who always made more of his own role at the winery.
The woman looked up and smiled. She looked vaguely familiar, Miles thought. She had dark brown hair, in what Miles considered a fussy style, curled and sprayed in a face-framing way. She had an open, interested face, big dark eyes and neatly shaped eyebrows. She was dressed in a pants suit of bright teal, with a red top under the jacket. Miles found it amazing that she was also wearing shoes and carrying a handbag each also teal with red trim. She had the air of someone who is accustomed to being the center of attention. She rose, and held her hand out.
"Cassandra Combs, known as Cassy Combs. I'm the food and wine writer for the Messenger. We're doing a series on wineries in the Midwest, and Todd was kind enough to offer to spend the day here with me, give me a behind the scenes look." Miles remembered now seeing her photo in the daily newspaper. He read her column regularly, but found it upsetting that she focused on wines from California and other parts of the world.
"Great! I'm glad to see that you're going to give some coverage to the local products." Miles said, trying to look excited. He'd just made plans with Ana, now what? He couldn't possibly let Todd run this, he didn't have a clue about so many of the operations of the winery. He had to tactfully extract Cassy from Todd, but he also planned to try to keep Todd away from Ana.
"If you'll excuse me, I need to take care of some things. " He looked at Todd. "What's your itinerary with Ms. Combs?" Without waiting for an answer. "I'd like to show her through the vineyard." He knew that Todd wouldn't want to risk getting dirty. Or show his total ignorance about the growing of grapes.
She cut in. "Call me Cassy, please. That sounds great. And, before you worry, I did bring some boots to change into for tramping around the vines."
"OK. I'll meet up with you again in, say half an hour." Todd didn't look happy, but couldn't seem to think of an argument. "Todd, you might go through the cellar operations until then." Todd knew enough to bluff his way around for a short while, but Miles knew he'd better hurry.
"That was my plan, of course. Take your time, Miles."
"I'll see you soon, Cassy" Miles purposely ignored Todd. He went down the stairs, through the halls and home. He needed to change, to clean up his place, and to try to call Ana.
Ana heard the phone ring as she was going out the door. She was carrying an overnight bag. After much agonizing about what would be just right, she had settled on a long sleeved, button front light green dress for this evening, and two possibilities for tomorrow - a loose cotton skirt with a brown and gold print, or a pair of off white cotton slacks. She had a beige crocheted sweater set that went with either. She might stay tonight, but she would have to come home on Sunday. Things were moving fast now, but she relished the thought of spending another night making love with Miles. There would be time later to think about her other worries - Miles wife, her parents, even Greg. What if Miles wanted her to move in? Ana, she chided herself, don't jump the gun.
She decided to show up ready to work today, and was wearing a pair of old jeans that her father had given to her one time when she was helping paint a room in the lake house. They were a couple of sizes too big, and had a few spots of different colored paint. She pulled them snug with a belt. Over a white cotton tank top, she wore an old light blue workshirt, also her father's. Her hair was in a ponytail and she had on an old blue baseball cap, also with some paint stains. She applied a touch of moisturizer, a clear lip gloss and, after scrutinizing her face, a light touch of mascara. She decided that she should place practicality over attractiveness. Besides, Miles had already seen all of her that there was to see.
The cell phone was in the car, and just stopped ringing when she opened the door, loading her overnight bag. If its important, they'll call again, she told herself. Or leave a message. She went back for a final check of the condo. She left a light on, as she did when she went up to the lake house. She grabbed her work coat and her denim jacket. She picked up a pair of cotton gardening gloves she had used repotting plants that spring, and rejected them - the look was too amateurish, she thought. She could buy some brown jersey gloves at the gas station on her way that would look more serious. She thought of one last thing, grabbed the partially finished bottle of wine and put it in a cooler. She'd buy some ice. She locked the door, got into the car, and started down the road, listening to Car Talk on National Public Radio as she drove down the road. It seemed today that everyone had problems with trucks. She wondered what it would be like to ride with Miles in his truck. She had never dated anyone who drove a pick up before. But, she decided, its not that different than Uncle Chesters SUV, just has more room to carry things. Ana stopped after a few miles for gas - it was usually cheaper at the next interchange beyond hers, and today was no exception.
Miles waited a couple of minutes, then tried the home number again. He began to think that he didn't know what he'd say - tell her to stay home? That would be a mistake. All he had to do was keep her occupied for a few hours while he showed Cassy Combs around. By that time, Brandon would be here, and he could charm Cassy through a wine tasting. What he needed was some help - Jimmy would know what to do.
He called Jimmy and let the phone ring 12 times before a sleepy voice answered.
"This better be important, Miles," Jimmy had caller id.
"Jimmy, my friend, my best friend.."
"Cut the bullshit," Jimmy sounded more alert. "By the way, how'd it go with Ms. Ana Palmer last night? Or are you calling me to come and pick you up after she stole your truck and robbed you?"
"it was fine. I mean, it was great. That's the problem. Or, not really a problem. But I have one now."
Miles explained about Cassy Combs. Jimmy immediately understood that it was important that Cassy be exposed to the winery through Miles and not Todd, if they had any hope of a favorable and accurate story. But, there was Ana. And, there was work to be done for the cook out.
"All I need is for you to keep an eye on her - have her help you get ready - just for a couple of hours, then I'll pass the reporter off to Brandon. "
"He's still asleep."
"Well, please ask him to come in early today - no later than noon, if he can handle that."
