Catherine Lanigan - A Fine Year for Love

Liz rushed into her office, shut the door and pulled out a clean white blouse from the closet. She towel-dried her hair and rolled it into a twist. She didn’t have a smidge of makeup left after the rain pelting, but she didn’t care. As she tied her apron on, she noticed the morning’s mail. As usual, Louisa had left it on the old leather desk blotter.

Sitting on top of the stack was the familiar green paper envelope from the County Treasurer’s office containing the yearly property tax bill. Always diligent about the vineyard’s accounting, Liz reached for the envelope and opened it.

What met her eyes was a shock.

“Twenty-three thousand four hundred dollars...past due?” Liz read the numbers again. Twice.

This was impossible! They were not a year in arrears.

“I paid this bill,” she groaned, sinking into the desk chair. She could remember purchasing the cashier’s check from the bank to pay the taxes. “There has to be some mistake.”

Liz called the Indian Lake County treasurer’s office and spoke to one of the clerks. The woman assured Liz that although the Crenshaw taxes had always been paid promptly each year, there had been no payment in the past twelve months. Liz thanked the woman and hung up.

She dropped her face to her hands, feeling as if the world had just crashed down upon her. There was no mistake. Liz now owed not only her taxes, but a penalty, as well. According to the bill, she had ninety days to pay in full.

How could I have forgotten to pay this? Liz berated herself. I’m always so careful...

She drew in a quick breath and clamped her hand over her mouth. “Sam.”

Last year, the taxes had been due when Liz was in France. She had left the cashier’s check with Sam for him to take to the treasurer’s office. Amid the flurry of her decisions about Louisa, the champagne vines and the newly built tasting room, she hadn’t given the taxes a second thought. And because she’d always paid the taxes with a cashier’s check, she had no record of the check being cashed.

This was about the same time she’d begun to notice the first signs of Sam’s forgetfulness, she realized with a lurch in her stomach. His slips were always minor, and she’d thought they were more of a nuisance than a real danger. But this...

Losing over twenty thousand dollars could ruin them.

Liz had already taken out two new mortgages to pay for the tasting room and all the improvements to the fermenting barn and the cellars. She doubted any bank in town would advance her any more money on her harvest. Liz had yet to prove herself and her wines’ abilities to bring in big sales. Though they were doing well—even better than she’d hoped with the tourist trade—she still hadn’t secured a large retailer. That was her plan for next year. Not this summer.

She had to find the check.

Panic overtook Liz as she scrambled through her desk drawers. Her search was in vain. She went to a small wall safe that Sam had installed behind a family portrait. In the safe, she found the deeds to the vineyard, copies of the mortgages, Sam’s will, her father’s will...but no cashier’s check.

Where would he have put it? she asked herself as she scanned the room. Through the office window, she saw the rain was dissipating. Then she spotted her truck.

She left the office through the side door and rushed across the parking lot to her pickup. She took everything out of the glove box and examined the papers. No check. She crammed everything back inside, then looked under both visors and checked under and between the seats.

She raced up to the farmhouse and went to the living room. She hoped she could find the check before she had to bring the incident to Sam’s attention. Then she would simply pay the taxes and Sam would be spared any concern or embarrassment. She rifled through the drawer in the end table next to Sam’s recliner. Suddenly she stopped. There was only one place he would have put the check for safekeeping.

His rolltop desk.

At the far end of the living room was a hundred-year-old burled walnut desk with a glassed-in upper library case that soared to the ceiling.

Liz pulled out every drawer and checked the contents. She went through old papers, newspaper clippings from her father’s high school years, her parents’ wedding announcement and their eulogies. She found old receipts and outdated warranties for appliances they’d long ago donated or thrown away. There were stacks of Christmas cards and sweet birthday cards her grandmother had given to Sam. But no check.

She took over half an hour to examine everything in the desk. Liz grew more concerned as she rifled through each drawer and cubbyhole with no results. At this point, Sam’s humiliation was only one of her concerns. Liz now realized that unless Sam could remember where he’d put that check, they would be facing a grave situation.

Someone else could have found the check and cashed it. If it had been destroyed, the money would be unrecoverable.

Liz wanted to scream, cry and curse. She had to believe she would find the missing money. She had to stay positive, even if it felt as if the world had just gone black.

* * *

LIZ’S MIND WAS REELING with the consequences of losing the check as she walked back to the tasting room, where Louisa and Sam were expecting and needing her assistance with the tourists who were continuing to drive up to the vineyard. Liz opened the door and nearly ran into Maddie.

“Liz!” Maddie exclaimed. Her broad smile instantly fell away. “What’s wrong?”

Liz tried to erase the worry and concern from her expression. “Huh?”

“You look terrible. Are you sick?”

“Sick? No. I just got caught in the rain is all. What are you doing here?”

“Ordering wine for the engagement party on Saturday.”

Saturday? That soon? Liz felt her stomach roil. On top of the new situation with the taxes, she’d have to see Gabe.

Maddie peered closely at Liz, disappointment filling her face. “You forgot.”

Liz grinned sheepishly. “You told me next Saturday.”

“This is next Saturday, you goof,” Maddie said, giving her friend a hug and mushing Liz’s still-wet hair. “You got caught in the rain, but I bet you’re glad for this downpour.”

“Love it.” Liz glanced at Maddie’s extensive list. She’d ordered two cases of chardonnay, two pinot grigio and two cabernet sauvignon. Hmm. Four white to two red. The preference for white was a trend Liz was noticing more and more. It further confirmed her decision to bring French chardonnay grapes to her vineyard. If this kind of market buying kept up, her Vignoles, Seyvals and Vidal blanc grapes would help her produce more white demi-sec and dry barrel fermented, and excellent ice wines. Liz smiled broadly. “Yes, the rain...” The vision of Gabe in his convertible shot across her mind. Something wasn’t right. “So, tell me about the engagement party. It’s still being held at Gabe...I mean, Nate’s parents’ house, right?”

“Yes, and Gina is like a field marshal with a battle plan. Honestly, Liz, I didn’t have to do much at all. She wanted Italian imported wines, and there’s nothing wrong with that—”

“I love them,” Liz interrupted.

“Yes, but I insisted on buying the wines because I wanted them to be yours. I love your wines and so does Nate—we wanted to show off your expertise. By the way, Nate has a lot of friends from Chicago who are going to spend the entire weekend in Indian Lake. We’re going to show them around on Sunday, but I was hoping we could bring them out here then. They’ll buy tons from you. You should see the orders they’ve been sending me for cupcakes.”

“You’re mailing them now?”