The Beast of Napa

9 - Games

Despite being given the day off, Catriona felt the need to tend to the vineyards.

Raised Protestant, she felt a pang of guilt every time Sunday rolled around and she wasn't sitting in a church. She had faith, and saw her prayers answered in marvelous ways, but she couldn't bring herself to sit in the pews with those who claimed the kindness of Christ only to speak of her and her sister in whispers when they thought Catriona wasn't listening. Those born outside of the States were treated no better than Judas, the betrayer of Jesus; as if it were Washington himself who went up on the cross.

At times she wished she was raised Catholic, solely for the option of confession. God already knew the struggle within her, and she desperately wished for someone of flesh to know the same. She had great fear of the future, bitterness towards the past, and confusion on how to move forward in the present. Working until her fingers bled was the only way to distract her from her thoughts, and having a day off was more cruel than kind.

"Haven't you been working enough this week, dear girl?" Mrs.Greene asked, calling her in for lunch. "You're going to wither faster than the vines if you don't take your Sabbath."

"I don't think I can be still," Catriona replied with regret. "I never have been able to."

Mrs. Green shook her head, picking the girl up off the ground and dusting the dirt off her skirt. "You're as bad as Mr.Griffin. There's no point in working yourselves to the bone when everything can be lost in a moment. Save something for tomorrow, dear girl. You don't know if it'll come anyways."

Mrs. Greene locked her arm around Catrinoa's and escorted her back to the house like a hen shooing a chick. She continued her motherly chatter as they sat down to dine with the rest of the staff, for a lunch of sandwiches and sweet fruit.

The staff on the estate was small and a bit rough around the edges, but overall, they were well-tempered and held pleasant conversations. Catriona had avoided speaking with them for fear that her accent would isolate her from the crowd eventually. In this, she created her own loneliness, her fears creating the reality she was most desperate to avoid.

After lunch, she wandered through the estate, wondering if her sister had thought about reaching her during the time she had been at Griffin's estate. Sara had been so quick to revenge, but slow to redemption. The thought simmered in Catriona's stomach like raw tea leaves, strong and bitter.

She wandered into the storage room connected to the house, making it her new task to thoroughly examine the bottles to learn more about their owner. Griffin was a man who liked red wine best, but Catriona craved the sweet, light taste of white. Not that she could afford either one.

On the counter next to a line of bottles was a large blue box with a navy satin ribbon and German lettering across the top. Her curiosity got the best of her, and she couldn't help but tip open the lid to look inside. It was a box of dark chocolates, each a different shape but with the same lucious sheen. What would it be like to enjoy such fineries? Maybe it wasn't hers to know.

"Have you tried one?" a voice asked from behind.

Catriona jumped, turning to see Patrick's warm smile enter in the room. He nodded to the box of chocolates and she stepped away from them, her heart in her throat.

"I recommend the star-shaped ones," he said. "They have the best snap to them."

She looked over to the box, turning back to Patrick with a polite smile. "I don't think they're mine to eat."

"Nonsense! Why else would they be created except for excitement, enjoyment, and pleasure?"

He stepped over, reaching into the box and handing one of the chocolates to her. She stared at it for a moment, thinking about whether to eat it or to lock it away as a treasure.

"This is my gift," Patrick said. "I had them sent all the way from Belgium. Tell me what you think."

Under his watchful eye she felt the need to please him, and so she inched it towards her mouth and placed it on her tongue. It was nutty and rich, brushing her tongue like satin, the bitter flavor somehow bringing a sweet release to her brain.

"This was made by a gentleman who grew up in the poor slums of Germany," Patrick said as she ate. "He fell in love with the wealthy daughter of a banker and knew that he had to impress her father in order to win her hand. He started making chocolates because he couldn't afford to buy them for the woman he loved, and when her mother slyly stole one, she fell in love with the boy as any proud mother would. The mother funded the boy's chocolate business behind the father's back, and he became such a rich and popular man that the father sought him out to set up a blind date. They married almost immediately, and it's a family business to this day. A wonderful story of destiny, don't you think?"

Catrinoa nodded, the story bringing a smile to her face. "This chocolate is of such high quality already, but somehow your story makes it taste sweeter."

Patrick put a finger on his nose and then pointed at her. "Agreed. Enjoying the finer things in life is more about the story behind it than the price tag on top of it. But there's another story I'm very interested in these days."

"Oh? Whose?"

"Yours."

Catriona froze, her eyes widening. She blinked as her cheeks flushed and she looked towards the ground.

"I'm not interested in anything you don't wish to share," Patrick added with a laugh. "I was just confused why a capable, hard-working woman such as yourself isn't running her own company instead of working for my cousin."

Catriona's ears perked as his words. "My own... business?"

"Sure! Why, look at Rose. She's perfectly capable of running her grandfather's business. You're just as lovely and hard-working. Have you ever thought about it?"

Catriona burst into an embarrassed laugh. When had anyone noticed her work? When was the last time someone asked her about her dreams? Not that she had ever told them to anyone aloud. But since someone was now asking, she felt overjoyed at the idea of finally sharing it with someone.

"I thought about becoming a seamstress," she said, quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment. It was so strange to hear the words come out of her mouth. "That's ridiculous, isn't it? I have no skills in fashion, as you can see. I'm sure there are much better dreams to have..."

"What better dream than your own?" Patrick interrupted. "Why, it's a fantastic idea! Selling one of a kind styles to the masses. Have you had any experience in sales?"

She shook her head.

"In that case, I may have the perfect opportunity for you --"

Before Patrick could finish, Griffin stormed in, passing by Patrick and Catriona completely without a single glance. He was muttering to himself, reaching for a bottle opener on the counter and opening a bottle of wine adjacent to it.

"Are we celebrating success or failure?" Patrick asked.

Griffin stepped back, startled. He then sighed with contempt, his eyes shifting between Catriona and Patrick.

"You seem tense," Patrick observed. "Is everything alright?"

Griffin grunted with a sharp nod. Too sharp. "It's nothing to worry about. Another minor setback."

"Something to do with the new policies?"

Griffin sighed again, gripping the bottle by the neck. "It's my own responsibility to handle. What are you two doing in here anyways? And alone, at that."

His eyes narrowed at Patrick.

"I came to ask this young lady to be my Bridge partner," Patrick said. "It's a lovely day for a game."

"Don't teach her to gamble," Griffin warned.

Patrick waved him away with his hand and a laugh. "No bets today. Just a friendly hand. Come, my dear. I'll teach you the rules."

He offered his arm to her. She took it, and they left the storage room together, leaving Griffin behind to drink straight from the bottle.