You mean red? I almost asked, but didnt.
The rest of the week, while I wrote fourteen measly checks accompanied by notes that promised Id send more as soon as possible, I tried to think of ways to convince David that the picnic store was a good idea. Sure, it was a little touristy for Joes taste, but hed mentioned how he wished he could somehow regain the original charm of Grandpa Sergios store. And Joe would appreciate the ode to our picnics.
I had to convince David that this was a way to pay homage to that history, keep the store running, and make it profitable too. I needed David. I could cook up a storm for my family, but he could take it to a whole other level, and I obviously had some things to learn about the money side of a business. I felt desperate, and I still hadnt mentioned the life insurance problem, not to anyone.
I would definitely need the family to get on board. And that meant disclosing to everyone just how bad things were financially. I knew I should have already come clean, but it seemed like a betrayal. I needed to talk to Joe.
One night I picked up the phone and dialled the number at the store. I had done it before, many times, just to hear his voice, to hear him say, Thanks for calling Capozzis Market. Were tied up with customers right now. Leave a message and well get back to you.
But this was different. This time, I actually called to talk to him. Some part of me, my arm and fingers at least, momentarily forgot that Joe was dead, and picked up the phone and dialled his number so I could say, Honey, what should I do? Come home, have dinner I made lentil soup and well figure this mess out. Oh, and can you bring some coffee?
When the answering machine picked up, his voice knocked me into the present. I hung up the phone, then checked it. The dial tone, flat and lifeless, droned through my ear, through my head, my throat, my heart. Changing the store would mean changing the answering-machine recording, something I hadnt been able to bring myself to do.
The next week David, Lucy and I were out touring her vineyard, walking up the hill between the rows, the vines like outstretched arms greeting us in the late afternoon sun. Lucy was in love with this spot of earth and excited to share it in all its phases. She wore work boots and a broad-brimmed hat, tenderly touching the grapes and vines as she talked.
The pinot noir grapes are starting to change from green to purple. If you look closely enough, each grape displays a different intensity of colour. Arent they gorgeous? She told us the process was called verasion. This was also the time in the growing season for stripping away some of the leaves in order to control the canopy. The more sun these lovelies get, the drier and more flavourful theyll be. By fall theyll be perfectly plump and ready for crush. She mentioned terroir, the big buzzword among vintners and winemakers that was constantly debated.
Terroir is that sense of place that you experience when you drink a glass of wine. This hillside has a history. Lucy held her hands out as if she were giving a blessing. There is the climate, even the certain way the sunlight slants against this hill. And the geology the layers upon layers of rock and volcanic ash from millions of years ago. The parent materials break down to make the soil what it is today, its mineralogy, the chemical balance.
I have one of those, David said. Oh, wait, mine is a chemical imbalance. My mistake, go on.
Lucy rolled her eyes. As I was saying terroir is the expression of the land the grapes come from. Others say terroir is about viticulture, the influence on the grape. Its the way the vines are hand pruned, the type of barrels, the whole winemaking process as well. And some say its everything from what occurred here throughout the ages to the moment the bottle is uncorked.
Ive always thought, I said, this might sound strange but Annie and Zach, this place, Elbow, permeates them. I always want to breathe them in. It must be their terroir.
Lucy said, The terroir of people? I can hear all the debating theyll get out of this one. Do go on.
Its I can smell the land, this place, in their hair, in the creases of their necks, and on their fingertips. This wonderful loamy scent mixed with wood smoke, the tanoak and redwoods, the rosemary, the lavender. And okay, a little garlic from being at Marcellas I dont know. It sounds funny when I try to explain it.
David patted my back. Nothing a little bathing wouldnt fix.
Ha-ha. Very funny.
No, he said. I actually get what youre saying. And I could even take it a step further. Ive been thinking about your idea for the store.
Yeah?
Grandpa Sergio died years ago, but that grocery store still smells like him when I walk in the door its faint, but its always there. Especially up in the office. His cherry tobacco pipe smoke. And its mixed with Pops Old Spice.
Nothing opening a window wouldnt fix, Lucy said.
Touché. He shook his head. But no, that wouldnt get rid of it. Nothing will. Even changing the store, even remodelling it and turning it into a slightly different kind of store it will still be Capozzis Market. Youll still be able to feel the family history when you walk in. Maybe even more so with the big nod to the mother country, as Grandpa used to call it. Thats whats important. If we dont try Ellas idea, were probably going to have to let the place go and lose everything my grandfather, my dad, and my brother worked for all these years.
I was afraid to say anything. Some kind of spell seemed to be on us there on that symmetrically furrowed hillside, surrounded by old gnarled vines and young grapes.
I was afraid to say anything. Some kind of spell seemed to be on us there on that symmetrically furrowed hillside, surrounded by old gnarled vines and young grapes.
Change can be good. You know, I always told Joe to quit fighting the tourist thing. To celebrate it. But I was just the baby of the family, not anyone whod ever run the store. Grandpa made that clear, David finally said. I still want to talk numbers. But I think you might be onto something, Ella. Lets talk about what you would need from me. I think I want a place at this picnic.
I grabbed the both of them and let out a victory holler. We ambled arm in arm down the hill to the small stone winery to celebrate. Despite the fact that now we had to talk numbers.
Lucy poured wine. We toasted to terroir, to Lifes a Picnic. I told them about my life insurance problem. I also explained just how bad I thought the stores financial situation was. I could see them both not gasping as if their lives depended on it. Lucy poured more wine. David drummed his fingers and made a ticking sound with his tongue a habit of his whenever he was thinking something through. I usually only noticed it when we were on the phone, but at that point in the evening Davids tongue ticking was the only sound in the room.
Finally he said, Let me break the news gently to the folks, about the store and about the insurance. I know why Joe didnt fess up to Dad. He seemed far away. Because he was always trying to make him and Grandpa proud. We both were. Even me with my desperate lack of Italian machismo. My dad seems to still desperately need that pride in the store, pride in his father, pride in us. His eyes filled and he stood up. In his two sons.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning while I washed dishes, I felt a tug on the leg of my jeans and looked down to see Zach staring up at me, sucking his thumb and holding Bubby, rubbing the turquoise satin of the bunny ears on his cheek.
What, honey?
He started swatting Bubby against the kitchen drawers. I turned off the water and knelt down. What is it, Zachosaurus?
He sighed. When is Daddy coming home?
Oh, honey. I hugged him. Daddy died. Remember? Daddys not coming home.
I know. But when is he coming back?
Hes not coming back.
When Im a big boy?
I shook my head. No. Not when youre a big boy.
That mama lady came back.
She did. But she didnt die. She just lives somewhere else and came to visit. Do you understand the difference?
He nodded and sighed again. Can I have a oatmeal bar? A whole one?
Sure. But do you understand about Daddy?
He started flipping Bubby up and down and doing a silly dance, saying Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh! And some milk. Pleeeeeeeze.
The now familiar uh-huh song, which had started shortly after Joe died, seemed to be Zachs way of saying that he was done talking for the time being. He was three and having trouble understanding. Hell, I was thirty-five and still didnt get it some days. But I wished I knew how to help him.
Later that afternoon, Paige called and said something that shocked me, her words like big flashing signs emerging from the fog, finally telling me where we were headed if we continued down that road. She would often call to speak to Annie. Id wanted to question Paige, but I could never get out the words; I always felt a physical barrier, as if something lay lodged in my throat, blocking any questions that carried the possibility of ruining our world. But that day when she called, I took a deep breath and squeezed out some words, asking her what her intentions were. I sounded like some grumpy father questioning a teenage boy about dating his daughter, which hadnt been my intention, but my own anxiety clamouring out.
My intentions? Paige asked. I beg your pardon? Im Annies mother. And I would like to speak to my daughter.
I took another deep breath. Yes, I understand that you gave birth to Annie. But youve been gone a long time, and Paige, Im just worried about Annie getting hurt.
Really? If youre so worried about hurting Annie, perhaps you should be more careful when you drive so you dont almost cause a car accident and then scream obscenities at my children.
I opened my mouth. No words would come out, but my heart beat so loudly, she could probably hear it echoing up through my throat.
She continued. Please put Annie on the line. Or do I need a court order?
A court order? Did she say a court order? Paige, I just Okay, Ill get her.
What did she want? What did she want? Part of me understood that a relationship with Paige could be good for Annie. But part of me was scared of what that might mean for Annie and me and Zach. And what if, once theyd got used to her, Paige vanished into thin air again?
Still, she was Annie and Zachs mother their birth mother, at least and if knowing her did make them feel more secure in this world, and if she was serious about not disappearing again, that was far more important than any jealous, territorial feelings of mine. Thats what I kept telling myself, anyway, as it became difficult to take a deep enough breath, which had been happening more and more often. Especially around two in the morning. Breathe in.