Thurston House Read online

  “I’ve never been as serious before. I feel as though I’ve come alive again.” The stagnant waters of her life had begun to flow again, and she realized now how much she had missed working, running the mines, building something. All she had done in recent years was watch the remains of all that drift away. And now, suddenly, she was in the midst of it again, thanks to him. “If this works, I will owe you an enormous debt, André.”

  “Ah, non!” He looked incensed and shook his head. “There you are totally off the mark, Sabrina. It is I who will be indebted to you for life if we buy this land.” And then, with his eyes narrowed like hers, he saw his dream growing in his head. “It will be an enormous success one day … I know it in my soul … the finest wines grown anywhere, including France … perhaps even a champagne or two.…” She wanted to cry, she was so happy listening to him. It was everything she had wanted to do for years, and now he was offering it to her, and Amelia had sent him to her, like a messenger of fate to bring her alive again. He was the greatest gift of all.

  For the next three days, they both went mad, speaking to banks, juggling their respective real estate, going back to look at the property again, speaking to the owners, and then the banks once more, and finally the two developers who wanted her garden lots. And miraculously, within a week, both deals were closed. She had sold everything on Nob Hill except Thurston House itself and a tiny garden directly behind the house, and they had bought three thousand eight hundred acres of land in Napa, adjoining her property of two thousand and one, which gave them almost six thousand jointly held acres of vines, but legally they each owned precisely half. Her lawyers had been busy for days, her bankers had insisted on checking André out, with cables flying everywhere, she had called Amelia twice herself to thank her for everything she’d done. It was the most frantic week Sabrina had ever survived, and when she put André on the train to New York at the end of the week, the two shook hands again and this time he kissed her on both cheeks.

  “You know, we’re both as crazy as hell, aren’t we?” She looked and felt like a young girl again, and he was handsomer than ever after several afternoons walking the property with her in the Napa sun. But she didn’t even see that side of him, she was so excited about what they’d done, and she still had to find a house, big enough for him and Antoine, with perhaps a cabin close by, for the three laborers they were bringing from France. “How soon will you be back, André?”

  He had promised to call her from New York, and cable her from Bordeaux. He had a lot to do there now, but he hoped to be back in a month. “Four weeks. Five at the most.”

  “I’ll find you a house by then, and if worst comes to worst, you can stay at Thurston House.”

  “That might be very nice.” He laughed at the image of his laborers from the Médoc moving into the elegant mansion on Nob Hill. “We’ll turn it into a farmhouse for you yet.”

  “It’s all right with me.” She waved at him and wished him luck, as the train pulled out, and for just an instant, her heart sank, remembering the train nineteen years before that had never reached Detroit.

  But life couldn’t be that cruel again, and it was not this time. Five weeks to the day, Sabrina was at the station again, this time to meet André, Antoine, and the three men. She had found a small, simple farmhouse to rent for them on a piece of land adjacent to what they’d bought, and in time he and Antoine could build a house for themselves, but there was no need for that now. They all drove directly to the Napa Valley that day, and all of the men chattered excitedly in French when they saw what André and Sabrina had bought. And Sabrina was surprised at how charming Antoine was. He was a tall, lanky, strikingly handsome young man, with his father’s blue eyes and a mane of thick blond hair. He had fine features, and a gentle smile, and his father’s endless legs, and he had a kind, thoughtful way about him. His English wasn’t very good, but he managed to say everything appropriate to her, and by the end of the second day they all spent examining the vines, she felt as though they had become friends. He was strikingly different from her own son, and she put it down to his maturity, but what struck her most about Antoine was what a good sport he was. He seemed to want to make everything easier for everyone, he relaxed the atmosphere when it got tense, which it often did, given the Gallic tempers involved, seemed to enjoy his father’s company and was exceedingly polite and at the same time humorous with her, and she found herself wondering how he would get on with Jon when he got home. She wanted them to meet and to get along.

  But that didn’t happen until June when Jon came home. Six weeks had passed since André and Antoine had arrived, and they were staying at Thurston House with her for a few days, to attend some meeting at her bank about some loans they were hoping to take out. The racket outside was unbearable, as the construction people tore up the garden lots for the houses they were going to build. She had kept only one tidy garden behind the house, but that was totally unusable now. Concrete was flying everywhere, dust descending on them in clouds, and trees hanging overhead, pulled out by cranes. It pained Sabrina to see them at work, and she tried not to think of it. It was sad to realize how much things had changed, but there was no fleeing it now, and at least she was doing something exciting with André and Antoine. She had been able to pay Jon’s tuition for his senior year and she was grateful for that. But now she had hardly a spare penny left. She wanted to sink everything she had into the vineyards with André. She went up to Napa several times a week, and surveyed their domain with glee. And he came into town at least once a week, and stayed in the guest suite at Thurston House. They were ensconced there when Jon arrived, and looked at them with open hostility as he set down his bags in the front hall.

  “More boarders, Mother dear?” She wanted to shake him for the tone he had used, and she looked at him angrily.

  “Hardly, Jon. This is André and Antoine de Vernay. I told you about the vineyards in Napa we’ve invested in.”

  “Sounds like nonsense to me.” He stood out in sharp contrast to André’s son, who had welcomed her into their lives so openly. But it was obvious that Jon was threatened by them. His mother was flirting with business again, and it reminded him again of how much he had hated her working in his youth. Antoine held out a hand to Jon now, which the younger boy shook uninterestedly. He had other fish to fry now that he was in town. He had two friends from Harvard arriving the following week, and he was going to Lake Tahoe, and then La Jolla with friends. It wasn’t exactly the summer he had planned. He would have rather gone to Europe with his friend Dewey Smith, but since his mother had insisted that she wanted him to come home, he was going to get even with her by forcing her to send him to Europe after he graduated the following year. He deserved the Grand Tour, everyone else went to Europe all the time. Why should he spend the summer at home. And he wanted to go on the Normandie when it was launched. She owed it to him after all, one didn’t graduate from Harvard every day. But he didn’t say anything to her about his plans, he had plenty of time to work on her, and right now he needed a car for when his friends arrived.

  “You can use mine when I’m in town, dear. I’ll take the cable car.” André was listening to them with one ear while he made some calls in the library. He was surprised at her endless patience with the boy, but he was her only son, and that explained a lot. His father had died when he was two, and she had told André as they sat up late one night and talked, that she had always felt guilty toward Jon for the long hours she worked at the mine.

  “But you did it for him. I had the same problem with Antoine when Eugénie died, but he had to understand. I was only one man. And you had an enormous responsibility on you, Sabrina. Surely now he must understand that.”

  “When it suits him, he does.” She had smiled at her partner and friend. She knew her son well, and although it embarrassed her at times, she also knew how spoiled he was. And it bothered her that he was badgering her now in front of André about the car.

  “Can’t we buy another one for God’s sake
?”

  “You know I can’t afford it right now, Jon.” She attempted to keep her voice down but he refused to do the same.

  “Why the hell not? You buy everything else, land in Napa, vineyards, God knows what else.” He was brutally unfair, she had bought nothing for herself in years, and although her clothes were obviously well made, they were noticeably out-of-date. André had noticed it, and was well aware of the sacrifices she made. And she already had almost nothing left from her real estate sale, she had plunged it all into the vineyards she bought with André, and the tuition for Jon. There was no mad money, even for her, but Jon seemed determined not to accept that, and to continue to pressure her.

  “Jon, you’re being unfair. Just drive my car, for heaven’s sake.” She kept it in a garage across the street now, which she rented from friends. Her own garage had been torn down along with that entire part of the property in the grips of the construction people now.

  “How do you even expect us to stand it around here with all that noise?” He was shouting at her over the din, and it was only when they stopped at night that she actually realized how loud they were. She had grown used to it in the last month, and would have to live with it for at least a year, from what she heard.

  “I’m sorry, Jon, it won’t last forever; and you’ll be away part of the time.” She smiled gently at him. “And when you finish school next year, they’ll be all through.”

  He sighed audibly and looked at her. “I hope so. Now, what about the car? Can I take it this afternoon?”

  “Yes, you may.” There was a girl he wanted to take out, she was a friend of a friend, and a sophomore at Mills.

  “Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?” She was accustomed to dining often with both Antoine and André, and she wanted Jon to get to know them both, but he already had other plans and shook his head as he stood up.

  “Sorry, I can’t.” And then he glanced over at his mother’s friend. André was still busy on the phone, and Jon thought he couldn’t hear him. “Is that a new love?” He looked pointedly into his mother’s eyes and she blushed beet red, and he could tell by the set of her mouth that she wasn’t pleased.

  “Hardly, Jon. He’s my business associate. But I’d like you to get to know him and his son.”

  Jonathan shrugged. For all he knew, they were a couple of bumpkins from France and he wasn’t interested in them. He was judging by their interest in land, the fact that they came from Bordeaux, the simple way they dressed. The fact that they were both of noble birth had gone completely over his head, and they never mentioned the chateau they had just sold. But Jon had other concerns, especially now that he had his mother’s car, and half an hour later he was gone again, and didn’t return until late that night. The next morning, Sabrina left the house with Antoine and André shortly after dawn, and she didn’t come back again until late that night, having driven herself back from the Napa Valley again. She seemed to spend all her time in her car now, going back and forth between Thurston House and her new vineyard land, but there was a great deal to do.

  “Why did you ever do a crazy thing like that?” Jon asked her again when they met that night and she saw something accusatory in his eyes, as though she had spent something she shouldn’t have or she was failing him by being out so much, as she had when she ran the mines. But he was just about twenty-one years old and he was at college three thousand miles away now most of the time. And she had a right to something that excited her as this did. It was something she had wanted to do all her life, and she was only forty-seven years old. She didn’t plan to just roll over and die because he’d grown up. It was the best thing that had happened to her, but it was very threatening to Jon and he was unpleasant about it each time the subject came up, as though it were taking something away from him.

  “Jon, it’s going to do well. I promise you. We’re going to have the finest wines in the States.”

  He looked at her and shrugged again. “So what? I’d rather drink Scotch anyway.”

  She exhaled exasperatedly. Sometimes he was impossible. “Fortunately, not everyone agrees with you.” And that reminded him, he turned to her with a particularly nonchalant air.

  “By the way, I have some friends coming through town next week.”

  Sabrina frowned as she thought and then looked at him. “But you’re going to Tahoe, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I just thought that maybe they could stop by and say hello to you.” It was the first time he had ever suggested that and she suddenly wondered if it was a girl. She smiled shyly at him.

  “Is this someone special to you?”

  “Yes.” And then he realized what she thought and quickly shook his head. “No, no, not like that … it’s just a friend … never mind, you’ll see.…” For an instant she thought she saw guilt in his eyes, but this time she wasn’t sure.

  “What’s their name?” He was already running off, and Sabrina called after him.

  “Du Pré.” She didn’t even know if it was a woman or a man, and she forgot to ask him before he left for Tahoe the following week.

  30

  After Jon had gone to Lake Tahoe with friends, Sabrina spent most of her time in Napa with André and Antoine and the French laborers. There was an enormous amount of work to do. There was land to be cleared, and on her old land, vines to be cut down, others to be stripped, still others André had brought from France. It would be a full year before he’d be satisfied with the condition of their land, if then, but they were all prepared for that, and their project was well under way. They had already chosen a label for the wines they would make. They would call their ordinary brand Harte-Vernay, and their finer wines Chateau de Vernay. Sabrina was delighted with all of it. She returned to San Francisco after a week in the blazing Napa sun, dark as tar, her eyes like patches of bright blue sky, her hair braided down her back. She was wearing the espadrilles André had brought her from France, and slacks, and she was just going through her mail at Thurston House, when the phone rang on her desk, and an unfamiliar female voice asked to speak to her.

  “This is she.” She wondered who it was, but was more interested in the stack of bills in her hand. There always seemed to be more to pay, and she could see from these that Jon hadn’t denied himself anything in the past few weeks … three restaurants … his club … the tailor he preferred …

  “I am the Comtesse du Pré. Your son suggested that I call.…”

  Sabrina knit her brows, then suddenly remembered the name. Du Pré … but he hadn’t mentioned a countess. Perhaps she was the mother of a girl he was particularly fond of. Sabrina sighed away from the phone. She really wasn’t in the mood, particularly not for a woman who announced herself in just that way. She sounded American, Southern almost, but her name was clearly French and her accent was excellent. It was too bad André and Antoine weren’t in town. But they weren’t, and she had promised Jon.

  “Perhaps Jonathan told you that I would call.”

  “Indeed he did.” Sabrina tried to sound welcoming on the phone while continuing to flip through the enormous stack of bills.

  “He’s a darling boy.”

  “Thank you very much. Are you visiting San Francisco, then?” Sabrina really didn’t know what to say to her, or why she had called.

  “I am.”

  “It’s unfortunate that Jon is out of town. He’s in the mountains with some friends.”

  “How nice for him. Perhaps I’ll see him when he comes home.”

  “Yes …” Sabrina steeled herself. She had to do her duty to Jon. “Would you like to come to tea sometime this week?” With all she had to do, it was the last thing she wanted now, but she had no choice. Jon had warned her, and the woman had called.

  “I’d like that very much. I would like to meet you, Mrs. Harte.” She seemed to pause strangely on Sabrina’s name, and Sabrina jotted a note to herself. She might as well get it over with.

  “Perhaps this afternoon?”

  “That would be perfect, my
dear.”

  “I’m delighted,” she lied, but with Sabrina one never knew. “Our address is …”

  But there was a charming peal of laughter in the phone. “Oh, there’s no need …” And then, “Jon gave it to me a long time ago.” Sabrina couldn’t figure out if she was old or young, a madam or a girl friend, or simply a woman he had met. It was really the damnedest thing, and when André called later that day and asked her to run to the bank to do an errand for him, she had to tell him she couldn’t go.

  “Damn, Jon has stuck me with some woman of his. She’s passing through town, and I’ve got her coming to tea.” She glanced at her watch; a tea tray was all set and she was wearing a gray flannel dress with a velvet collar and a string of pearls her father had given her when she was very young. “She was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, and from the sound of her, I don’t think she’ll leave soon enough for me to get out. I’m really sorry, André.”

  “It’s all right. It can wait.” He thought of her pushing her way through the jungles of her own land the day before, her hair wild, her face burned, her eyes almost a Mediterranean blue, and it amused him to think of her serving tea. He laughed and she made a face.

  “I can’t imagine what she wants, but Jon made a point of it, so I did the correct thing. Frankly, I’d much rather be up there with all of you. How is everything?”

  “Fine.” But before he could say more, she heard the knocker on the front door, and then the bell rang.

  “Damn. There she is. I have to go. Call me if anything special comes up.”

  “I will. By the way, when are you coming back?”

  She wanted to go on working with them, and Jon wouldn’t be home for another week. “Tomorrow night, I think. Can I stay at the farmhouse with all of you?” She was the only woman there, and she was the consummate good sport about sharing their discomforts and rustic life-style. And at night she helped them cook, although it wasn’t her best skill. “I run a mine better than I cook.” She had grinned as she burned all their eggs before they went to work one day. From then on they cooked for her, and she did a man’s share of work, as she always had. André admired her for that. He admired her in many ways.