Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(4)
Mary ushered Natasha into a tidy, well-lit room.
“Here we are. Of course, you can bring some of your things in to make it homier, but we have restrictions since it’s short-term housing. As I explained in your phone interview, guests are only here for short stays.”
Guests. A strange term for homeless women. But hey, better than a life sentence.
“It’s just fine,” Natasha said. Her throat tightened, and she felt tears welling as she took in the room that would be her and Tyler’s temporary home.
Twin beds flanked a window with a wrought iron security bar. Along one wall, a counter held a two-burner stove, a small sink and a tiny cube-shaped fridge.
Mary pointed to the fridge. “We allow cooking in the rooms, but the meals in the dining hall are provided.”
Provided. She meant free. And right now Natasha and probably the rest of the women in the shelter needed free.
“The bathrooms are down the hall to your right. There’s a separate one for the boys.” Mary opened a set of double doors built into the wall. “The closets are roomy, but if you need more space, there’s a storage area in the annex.”
“Thank you, but I put most of our things in storage. And my wardrobe is pretty sparse. Mostly work clothes, which in my case means jeans and T-shirts.” Natasha assessed the shelves and hanging rods. “Tyler’s things will fit. There’s even room for his baseball gear.”
“He likes baseball, does he?”
“He’s mad for it. But his passion gives me the perfect carrot to hold out to make sure he does his homework. He’s a straight-A student,” she added proudly.
It was a miracle that Tyler didn’t suffer from the disability that plagued Natasha. Or suffer because of it. Severe dissociative dyslexia—even on a good day she couldn’t spell the word properly. She’d prayed and prayed late at night when Tyler was a toddler, prayed that he’d be normal, that he could read. Evidently some prayers paid off.
“After your interview last week, I looked into some of the gardening jobs at the local vineyards,” Mary said as she closed the closet doors. “But you could still take the aptitude test. Lots of local employers accept that in lieu of a high school diploma. Our Work in the World program has great success in placing our guests in new jobs. And the clerical jobs pay much better, you know.”
Natasha knew. Knew too well that if she could do basic math, an office job might lead to better pay. But her dyslexia made that impossible. Besides, she hated being inside. If she could get a decent job as a gardener or at a local nursery, she could save up, apply for the low-cost housing that Mary said was nearby. Tyler could stay in a good school district. He’d be happy and have better tools and skills to navigate the challenges that life would throw his way. That was enough.
“I’d rather do what I’m good at,” Natasha said, glad that she could be honest. “I’m a great gardener. I’m good with plants.”
Mary tilted her head and smiled. “I understand. There are two good prospects. But if I were you, I’d look into the position at Casa del Sole first off. It’s a gorgeous facility, but more importantly, the new owners have a reputation for looking out for the welfare of their employees.”
Adrian urged his horse into a full gallop when they reached the summit of the ridge-top path overlooking Casa del Sole and its vineyards. The early morning fog had cleared from the coastal plain, but his thundering ride hadn’t cleared the doubts that had nagged him during the night.
Sunlight glittered on the streams running through the land below, as if mocking his troubled mood. From the ridge he could see Zoe and Cody’s home at the border of Casa del Sole. His own house, nearly finished, was barely visible on the ridge to the east.
Birds chirped in nearby oaks, but other than their songs, there was silence. The air was still, as it often was between weather patterns. By midafternoon the coastal breezes would return, bringing with them the cool temperatures and night fog that teased nuanced flavors from the smaller-berried grapes of the region, grapes that so many lives and dreams depended upon.
In the distance, two riders approached. As they neared, he recognized Coco and Amber riding Zoe’s polo ponies.
“Taking a day off?” Coco asked with a wry smile as she and Amber flanked him.
“Assessing the acreage for the new vineyard.” It was partially true.
“Had you said yes, I’m sure the planet would’ve stopped revolving,” Coco said in a chiding tone.
“You look troubled,” Amber said.
Coco peered at him. “Where were you last night? We missed you at dinner.”
“I had feathers to smooth. Some of the local growers aren’t keen on the precedent I’m setting with having employees of the vineyard own shares in the business.”
“Too egalitarian?”
“No, it’s not that. For the most part, the local owners I’ve met are fair and community minded, not snobs. But involving workers in the profit of the business… That makes them nervous. Even Dante isn’t so sure about profit-sharing.”
Their brother Dante had returned from his tour of Australian wineries full of ideas and plans. But profit-sharing with employees hadn’t been one of them.
“And what does Papa think?” Amber asked.
“He has his usual wait-and-see attitude. Cautious. He insisted on two-year contracts with employees to start. If what we’re trying isn’t viable, we’ll pay out the shares and start over. But I know it’ll work. People always rise to a challenge and do their best when you trust in them.”