The Shape of Things to Come (Hypernaturals 15)

The Right Place

Renee swam over to Denise, who is hanging languidly from the side of the pool chatting with Helen, Morgan, and me.

Helen is still marveling at the scheme to poison Claremont. The 'What did you do now?' forgotten and replaced. She alternates between a few core things: "Your pheromones! Sylvie proposing to you in writing! Marry me and make all of La Cour yours! As if in human space you and I aren't already married! Serves the conniving bitch right! I should send her one of those glass dicks Denise had made. A little note: This is what you are missing. Bitch!"

I am sure a bog-standard size glass penis made for sentimental value is not going to impress her. She never got my pants off. She would have no idea what that is.

"Send her the set." I suggest as a joke. "Throw in the Danny and DeWayne models."

"Oh: Good idea!" Helen agrees.

It's not a good idea, as Sylvie has no idea who Danny and DeWayne even are and she can get all the dude she wants, not counting me. A variety pack of random glass sex toys will mean nothing to her. But: whatever. The concept fits Helen's venom for our soon-to-be former neighbor.

Sometimes Helen verbally circles past the simpler "Fucking Sylvie La Cour". That is punctuation. Its variation is "Bloody Bitch". I don't have all the history here, but I don't think Helen likes Sylvie. It feels like that conflict predates this event.

A pivot to Claremont is in the loop all the time too, and some variation of: 'I can't believe after all this time we have that land... Bloody fucking polluted though it is. Going to take years...'

Years to fix the land, she means. Get the fungus out, and all the chemicals the La Cour family used to artificially pump up their yields. There might come a day in the future when we figure out how to add herbicides, pesticides, and fungicides to vineyards and not affect the end result of the wine. I doubt it is soon.

I like the 'we' Helen used. No longer 'My Vineyard'. What the three of us did seems to have mentally morphed for Helen whose Estate this is. Not so much she is relinquishing it, but maybe at a deeper level, it is more 'ours' than it was. That 'ours' includes the newest kid. I have tried to be a good steward of the place, mostly by knowing when to not interfere. I have also knocked heads with Helen: She was not happy I was playing with a Shiraz until she saw it not only sold but won awards. It was a Claremont-worthy product.

Was. Sylvie and her doofus sibling fucked that up for now. As Helen said: It is going to take years to fix it. Even leveraging the ideas Sylvie had around creating new crosses of the predecessor varieties and such. It was Sylvie: Duval is neither that smart nor that motivated to care. I can't immediately use the setup because I have to get all the shit out of the former La Cour vines. All the artificial stuff.

Morgan is still miffed at being left out of it. "I am glad I have no fangs when I hear Fiona describe the flavor of Duval."

I spoke to her larger issue. "If you had been there, and used your pheromones, we would not have made it back to our side of the fence."

"I had forgotten, at some level, what yours are like." Denise reminisced to me. "I think they are more powerful than they used to be. Of course, when I first experienced them, you were brand new."

"And yours are exactly like you. A fine NorthWestern America IPA of a Vampire." I replied.

"That sounds interesting. I like IPA's." Morgan stroked Denise's wet arm lightly. "Wedding night. Show me."

"I can't wait to get married..." Denise found that suddenly humorous. "Things you never expect a Vampire to say. Especially ones my age."

Renee rolled over and floated near Denise. Well; As close to float as a Vampire can: arms and legs milling the water. "Hey. Denise. Just wanted to say congratulations. I love the ring. The first family has high admission standards, but you are perfect there. You are going to be great as a Sagan!"