CHAPTER 9

After several stressful weeks, Joe drove home to Luca’s Vineyard for a weekend break.

On the three-hour drive back to the vineyard, he called several clients of Palin Accounting. Most were reluctant to talk. As one of Palin’s largest clients, Joe called Stanwell Construction and asked for a time to meet the owner, Tony Stanwell. The receptionist was very reluctant to discuss anything or even acknowledge that Tony Stanwell owned the business. When Joe mentioned a deposition in front of lawyers, the receptionist advised that she would take the message to her boss. When the call finished, Joe made a conscious decision not to think about the case for the rest of the weekend.

He arrived at the vineyard at midday on Friday. He kissed Wendy, and they shared a coffee, talking about their days ahead. The harvest was going to be large, Wendy said. Joe agreed, and they discussed timeframes and bringing in seasonal staff to help. There were always college students looking to pick up extra work, and there wasn’t a better place to work outside. They agreed to put an advertisement out over the coming days.

Wendy said that Casey would be home from college for the weekend. Joe smiled. He loved that his youngest child was now an adult, growing into the world, but he missed having her at home. In his heart, he wanted her to remain an innocent five-year-old forever, but he had learned to let go and allow her to become her own woman.

Set on fifty-five acres in Upstate South Carolina, Luca’s Vineyard had a chateau to the east of the property, which featured a café, a store for direct sales, and a dining space for events. The Hennessy homestead was at the west of the property, sitting at the top of a hill above the rows and rows of vines. Twenty-five minutes outside of Greenville, the vineyard employed ten staff, who were treated like family.

Wendy and Joe spent the afternoon walking amongst the vines. As they walked, Joe could feel his lungs fill with clean air. The fresh air seemed to reach deep into his body, refreshing his soul. Wendy talked about her optimism for the harvest, and how the sugar levels, acidity, and tannin development were all being closely monitored. It could be one of their best years, she said.

They stopped at the main shed and checked on their equipment. It all looked in good working order. The tractors, two beautiful old John Deere’s, were running well. The irrigation lines were flowing without a problem. The pruning equipment was in good order.

After a break for an afternoon snack, Joe spent some time on the riding mower, clearing the weeds between the vines. Joe loved the land. He loved working, getting dirty, being out in nature, and creating something others could enjoy.

Before his son’s death, his world had been law and justice. Most of his time was spent in the office, some weeks putting in over seventy-five hours under the ambiance of artificial light. In his younger years, he worked so hard for justice. He worked so hard for the people of Charleston. In the year after Luca’s murder, he questioned everyone and everything, until it drove him to the edge of insanity. He left Charleston without knowing who murdered his son, and the lands became his place to heal. He found serenity among the vines, where he could let go for a few moments at a time. Eventually, he buried his grief deep under a wall of stoicism and focused on the grapes.

Casey arrived in the late afternoon and spent the last daylight hours helping her father. They pruned the older vines, delicately handling the mature plants. Casey talked about her studies at Clemson and everything she learned in agricultural studies. Joe was surprised by some of the things she’d learned. Casey explained there was so much science in agriculture, and even artificial intelligence was being used to replace some processes. Joe listened, nodded in the right places, and then told her nothing could replace a farmer’s intuition. It’s the reason why doctors still use stethoscopes, Joe said. All the technology in the world can’t replace intuition.

As the sun set on their Friday, Casey and Joe returned to the five-bedroom brick home and were greeted by the wonderful smells of fried chicken. Casey couldn’t contain her excitement. After a week of eating college dorm food, the idea of her mother’s home-cooked fried chicken was like a gift from heaven.

“Are there any boys in the picture?”

Wendy asked Casey when they all sat down at the table to eat. “Anyone we should know about?”

Joe’s hand gripped his knife firmly.

“Not yet,”

Casey said, and Joe’s hand eased from around the knife. “But there are some very handsome young men in my class.”

“As long as they treat you well,”

Joe said. “And if they don’t, you need to call me straight away.”

“I’m ok, Dad,”

Casey said. “I’m an adult now. I can handle these little boys.”

Joe smiled, proud of his strong and capable daughter. They ate dinner, played cards, and laughed together for the rest of the evening. On Saturday, they all rose early and worked the lands. Joe set up the smoker in the yard and began the long process of making what he claimed was the best brisket in the state. At midday, Wendy and Casey spent some time in the shop, talking to interested tourists and locals alike.

By 5 p.m., they had all returned home, exhausted but happy after a full day. Joe poured two glasses of Merlot and went to the chairs outside their home, handing one glass to Wendy. They sat silently for a few moments, enjoying the views of the nearby lower lands. Joe felt a sense of relaxation he hadn’t felt in weeks.

When the brisket was ready, Joe set up the table on the back porch, and they ate dinner overlooking the vineyard. They called Ellie, who was studying in New York, and kept her on speakerphone so she could join in their dinner conversations. As the sun set on another day, the family talked about everything and nothing—Ellie talked about New York and the craziness of the big city. Casey talked about Clemson and how she had made so many new friends already. The daughters compared notes on studying, and Ellie gave her younger sister several tips. Wendy talked about the vineyard and the upcoming harvest. Joe talked about his brisket and how much precision was required to get the taste just right. Wendy and Casey complimented him on the flavor, and Ellie complimented him on the idea of it. Together, they ate, told stories of their busy lives, and laughed. It was a night of nothing but love and family.

Once dinner was cleaned up, Joe returned to the back porch, a glass of Merlot in his hand, looking over the valley. A tinge of sadness washed over him when he thought about the drive back to Charleston the next day.

Away from the pressure of the law, everything seemed quieter. The tension disappeared from his muscles. His mind was clearer. This was home, and he knew it in his heart. This was where he was supposed to be.

If he could win the case, if he could secure payment from Palin, he could leave his life in Charleston behind.

He just had to survive until then.