Ginger James Chapter 1 Writer's Draft

 

 

Late November 1995

The Die is Cast

 

     A late afternoon sun covered the vineyard with a quality of light as if it were spun from gold. Caroline Lane stood on a granite promontory above the winery, the land below filling her with peace. Each day at this hour she reserved time to herself, time for evaluation of the day's work, time for reflection on all that happened and time for contemplation of what is yet to come. All of what she saw belonged to her now. In her heart she knew she would always love and care for what her mother had brought to life so many years ago. This is the place she and her younger brother knew as children, the place where they grew into adulthood and the place where her brother, her father and now her mother rested, kept alive by memories.

     From behind, Caroline heard the sound of little running feet and she smiled. She turned to see her seven-year-old granddaughter, Layla, tearing up the gravel fire road at full speed. Trailing her by several yards was her twin, Ian, his flushed face set with an undeniable determination not to be left behind. He was the more introspective one, she the precocious one, always moving, always into something. Both of the children bore the refined Castilian features of Caroline's mother, Ginger James, the same sapphire eyes and silky onyx hair that glistened like stars in a midnight sky. Caroline turned towards them and opened her arms as Layla ran to her. Still some ten feet away, Ian would not be denied being first to tell her. "Nama! There's a man waiting for you at the villa! Mommy sent us to get you." He crashed into her arms causing Layla a good jostle.

     In her resolute little voice, a thwarted Layla chirped, "I got here first; I was supposed to tell her." She made a quick sour face at Ian who cracked a winning smile back at her. "The man's a lawyer from Honolulu."

Caroline instantly knew what he wanted. Since her mother's death three months ago, five other lawyers had come. They all brought their best discounted offers to purchase the winery. Caroline had sent all of them packing and she would do the same to this one without a second thought. She tightened her arms around the children, "Well then, I think we should get back home. We'll see what this all about." The two ran to the mud-splashed Jeep Wrangler parked a few yards away and scrambled into the back seat, rushing to see who could buckle in first. 

     Even though Caroline took the twists and turns along the fire road at a dilatory pace, it took only a minute or two before the slate blue roof of the château began to emerge from behind a pine forested hill. When they reached the bottom, Caroline turned the Jeep off the fire road and headed toward the mansion. As they approached the château, from the back seat Ian asked, "Nama, are we gonna have to leave the house?" She stopped short of the open wrought iron gate and turned toward the child because underneath the sound of his voice she heard distress.

     "Whatever made you say that?"

     "Mommy told us the lawyers wanted our house. Since Nama G left us, a lot of them have come by. Does this one want our house too? Will we have to go away from here?"

     Caroline turned further to face both of the children. "I want you both to listen to me, ok? No one is ever going to take our home. Those men came here because they wanted to buy our vineyard, but it's not for sale. I sent them all away and I'll send this one away too. This is your home and it's going to stay that way. Do you understand?" The two children nodded. Relief crossed both their faces; Ian even gave a slight smile. "Now let's go home. I'll take care of this. Don't worry about anything, not for a single second." They passed through the wrought iron, Caroline's grip like a vice on the steering wheel.

     The dark and light gray pavestones whirred beneath the tires as the three traversed the long drive flanked by deep green sculpted gardens. In the afternoon sun, the quarried limestone of the château took on the rich color of unbleached linen. The steep hip roof and the exquisite high arched windows along the facade formed a statement of casual elegance that suggested a world long past, a world of grace and dignity. Yet, though Caroline loved her home dearly, the French Provincial style of the château appeared out of place in the rugged California landscape. The mansion was a better fit for the rolling green pastures of Burgundy or Auvergne. It was another Ginger James decision to go against convention and construct something whose reason was another perplexity, another secret never revealed.

     Centered at the front of the château entrance, a three-tiered fountain surrounded by red and purple Dianthus made a half-hearted attempt to obscure a polished black Deville town car. Caroline stopped the Jeep a few feet behind the limousine’s bumper and noticed the license plate belonged to a San Francisco rental firm. She worked to untangle the seat belt from the two-way radio attached to her hip as the children jumped from the back and raced up the eight stone stairs that led into their home. Finally freed from the seat belt, she reached for the valise stuffed with paperwork that seemed to be her constant companion and stepped out of the Jeep. Still dressed in work clothing, she looked at a Chauffeur in a pressed black suit who stood alongside an open rear door of the limousine. He cast a stare back at her as if to say hired help certainly didn't belong at the entrance to such a stately surrounding. Caroline returned his stare with a broad smile and as she walked past, caught a quick glimpse of a young blond dressed in a low cut fitted Versace suit sitting comfortably in the rear seat, a car phone in her hand. As Caroline climbed the stone stairs to enter the mansion, her thoughts rolled over an older rich lawyer and a young blond passion aroused in a body heated hotel bed. A small wry smile crept onto her face.

     Through the Tiffany double wrought iron doors Caroline could see her former college roommate Angelica Garcia approach. With a finance degree from both Stanford and Wharton, Angelica proved to be a godsend since Ginger's death. She opened the left door and Caroline entered. She passed by Angelica who stood to the side holding up a white linen business card with two fingers like a cigarette. Caroline glanced at the card and tossed the valise onto the nearest of two cream embroidered benches in the hallway, sat down, unzipped her down vest and began to remove her muddy western boots. "I know that look. What do you have for me?"

     "Well first, the lawyer," Angelica looked down at the card. "Andrew Hirano, Senior Partner Hecht, Roby, and Tokugawa, is waiting for you in the outer office. Second, the losses from the July wildfire I estimate at thirty million dollars."

     It was a full five seconds before Caroline said, "That's more than I expected. How much is covered by insurance?"

"    A little less than half. Sabastian said it would be three years before the bark comes back and the crop will become usable. We lost about seventy additional acres of fruit to smoke, but those vines can be harvested next year."

"If my Ventnor says three years, unfortunately, you can count on it to the day." Caroline stood, her white athletic socks in stark contrast to her jeans and the red spackled mud. "Let's go find out what this lawyer wants. Did you ask him?"

     "I did. He said he could only speak to you about it."

     "Another offer to buy the Vineyard, I'm sure." 

     They went through the two ten-foot Colonial Maple doors and entered the oval grand foyer. Twin staircases rose from the polished marble floor and gently curved toward a second story landing. From the twenty-five-foot coffered ceiling, a Rosdorf Park crystal chandelier hung on such a surprisingly thin cable it appeared to float in the center of the huge space. To the left were family rooms and to the right the office suite. As they reached the outer office,           Caroline looked at Angelica. She looked tired and a little frail. "You go on. I'll take care of this. We'll talk about the fire damage and figure out what to do on Monday." Caroline put her arm around Angelica, gave her a quick hug and then looked over at the lawyer, Andrew Hirano, for the first time. He was tall, at least two inches above six feet. Though he attempted to hide it, a raised brow gave away his slight shock seeing a mud-streaked Caroline Lane, the owner of an enterprise like Russell James Vineyards, shoeless. His black Armani suit, white shirt and burgundy silk tie made for an attractive fit around his well-conditioned frame. She guessed he was forty or so from the gray splashes at the temples of his black hair. His face was angular and quite handsome with dark brown eyes that showed some remnant of Asian blood ran through his veins. She walked over to him, shook his hand and said, "Mr. Hirano follow me."

     Two steps ahead of the lawyer, Caroline entered a neoclassical world of Louis XVI. The decor for the entire room was copied from an office in the Tuileries Palace. Champagne in color throughout, seating areas on either side of a sturdy but delicate cherry wood desk brought images of gentlemen in knee breeches and stockings, ladies in silk finery sipping tea and speaking in riddles. When Caroline reached the desk, she turned surprised to see Andrew Hirano still standing by the entry doors. He looked past her furled brow and said in a smooth baritone voice, one that instilled truthfulness and honesty, traits not normally associated with the profession, "May I close these? My instructions are that our meeting is to remain strictly confidential."

     Standing by the desk, she watched him gently close the maple doors and head towards her. Inwardly she found humor that an offer to purchase the Russell James Vineyards had to remain confidential. "Mr. Hirano, I can make our meeting very quick. The winery is not for sale. Please don't even bother to present to me a purchase offer." She smiled professionally expecting him to retreat but he came on, right up to the desk.

     "I'm not here to buy anything. I'm here to give you something that belongs to you."

      A little confused and wondering what he could possibly have that belonged to her, Caroline moved behind the desk and gestured for him to sit in one of the two scallop shell motif chairs across from her. "Well Mr. Hirano, what do you have that belongs to me?"

     He sat across from her and unzipped a clutch portfolio designed to contain a very few files. He reached into the case and retrieved a sealed cream envelope she recognized as one of Ginger's notes she use to express her gratitude for something. He said, "First, my condolences on the passing of your mother." He handed the note to her. 

Across the face her name was written in Ginger's hand and on the back was a purple wax seal. "Would you hold up the note please. I need a photograph showing the seal unbroken." The request surprised Caroline but she complied without comment. The lawyer took two quick photos with a palm sized camera and said, "I'm also charged to tell you that per your mother's instructions, please open the envelope alone and do not share the contents with anyone. With that Ms. Lane, my charge is completed."

     "That's it?" Caroline was now thoroughly confused. "You came all the way from Hawaii to hand me a note from my mother?"

     "That's correct."

     "What is this?" she said looking at the front and back of the envelope.

     "I don't know."

     Caroline paused a moment, thoughts spinning in her head. "Why couldn't you simply use mail or FedEx?"

     "Your mother gave explicit instructions the note was to be hand delivered and that it was for you alone."

     "How is my mother connected with your firm? I've never heard of you."

     "I was told your mother's account is considered as one of our founding and most important accounts. Other than that, I don't know anything else."

      Another Ginger James secret.

      He zipped the briefcase, stood and said, "Thank you for seeing me Ms. Lane, our business is now completed."

      Caroline stood and silently escorted him to the front door. She stopped at the top step, shook his hand. All she could think to say was, "Thank you."

     Andrew Hirano studied her eyes for a second and then said, "At your mother's request, please open the envelope only when you are alone and never share with anyone the contents." He went down the steps as the blond scooted over in the back seat. Before the Chauffer closed the rear door, she saw him reach for the car phone.

Caroline's daughter Skye came to her side as the limousine pulled away. "What's that all about?" She said searching for an answer that would include her. She looked at the envelope. "That's Nana G's handwriting. Let me see."

     Caroline turned and walked back into the mansion with Skye following. "This is something private she left for me. Where are the twins?"

     "I think they're upstairs playing."

     "Go and tell them the lawyer has gone away and he won't be back." Caroline, with Skye still following, attempted to close her office door. "I need to be alone for a few minutes," she said as Skye backed away and the door closed.

     Seated at her desk, thinking of the strange events Ginger had set in motion, she spun the envelope with her fingers seeing her name and then the purple seal go round and round until she finally stopped and broke open the seal. She slid out the note and read: You will soon receive a call from my lawyer, Benjamin Hecht. Take that call ...

     She leaned back in her chair wondering why a woman so adverse to drama would concoct something so irrationally fraught with drama. Why a woman that shared so little of her life before Caroline's birth would construct something extraordinary like a lawyer from Hawaii whose sole charge was to hand her a cryptic note.

     A phone on her desk jarred to life. It was her private line, a number known by a very few. "This is Caroline."

     The voice on the other end came weak and raspy. "My name is Ben Hecht; I was a friend of your mother's."