Bill, cigar in hand, joined him. "Cohiba? I needed a respite." He offered him a cigar from his leather carrying case.
"Gave up smoking," Professor Forland said as Bill pocketed the extra cigar—a nice fat gauge, too, so the draw would be deliciously smooth.
"Thank you for serving on the panel, for visiting our compatriots," Bill graciously said. "Virginia has two hundred fifty vineyards. You can't visit them all, but I'm delighted you've visited the ones here."
Professor Forland inhaled the fragrant cigar odor as Bill prepared his. "Like Galileo, I recant."
"Ah." Bill smiled, pulling the extra cigar from his blazer pocket, cutting off the nub end for the professor with a sharp mother-of-pearl cigar cutter. Then he carefully held the flame a bit away from the tip so Professor Forland could light the treasure, "A little bit of heaven, isn't it?"
"Nicotine serves a purpose," Professor Forland good-naturedly remarked. "You know, when your wife and I were out today We saw Toby's operation."
"Very opinionated."
"There are worse characteristics, but, yes, he can be difficult. What surprised me is his idea for a wine he hopes to bottle this year. He buys the Cabernet Sauvignon from—let me remember—"
"Dinny Ostermann." Bill nodded with admiration. "He's one of those people who can make a purse out of a sow's ear."
"The usual mix of Petit Verdot, and Toby's got the Verdot right, too, but the usual mix is eighty percent Petit Verdot with twenty percent Cabernet Sauvignon. The Petit Verdot plays the dominating role. He wants to reverse it."
"Linden Vineyards Aeneus 2001 does that." Bill's studies showed themselves, although he wasn't a bragging sort of man.
Then again, if you catch a big fish you generally don't go home by an alley.
"Yes, yes, I know, but what really surprised me was Toby's aggressiveness. He says he can do it better."
Bill laughed. "In his own way he's as arrogant as Rollie Barnes. What'd you think of that operation, by the way?"
"Too early to tell. Spends money like water. Arch Saunders was one of my students, you know. Even taught for two years. Not as brilliant as Toby in the classroom, but a more balanced person. And sounds likeRollie is buying or renting any land with the right soils and drainage. Very competitive. Arch, too. They'll upset people, those two." professor Forland drew deeply on the heavenly cigar. "Despite the conviviality of tonight's dinner, every now and then Toby glares at Arch and Rollie. Toby's worked so hard, alone, and here Arch comes back from California and snags a plummy partnership."
"Heard that Rollie is building his own bottling facility. And the first grape hasn't appeared on the vine." Bill exhaled a blue plume, changing the focus of the conversation.
"Optimism."
"Mmm." Bill shrugged. He endured Rollie.
Bill was a secure man with a bubbling, effervescent humor. Bill's quiet confidence and, worse, his social grace infuriated Rollie, who felt clumsy.
"Did you know that Hy Maudant bought a mobile bottling line?" Professor Forland closed his eyes as he took a deep drag, the orange glow of the cigar tip shining.
"When did he do that?"
"Today. We stopped at White Vineyards first."
"Patricia and I haven't had a minute to catch up. I'll be interested to hear what she says. Those units cost $350,000. Hy is a good businessman, the French usually are. Instead of sinking all his money into his own bottling facility, he buys the mobile unit. He already has the huge tractor to pull it. He'll use it himself and then hire it out to other vintners. Shrewd." Bill made note of the fact that Hy, a guest this evening, didn't brag about his acquisition.
"Very, as long as you have someone who can service it."
Bill turned as he heard Patricia call from inside. "Be right in." He turned to Professor Forland. "Hy will have someone who can fix it. I know Hy. By the way, I'll put together a small box of different cigars for you to take home. Unless you have a favorite."
"Ah, your sampler will tell me more about you than my poor tastes." He stopped a moment. "But I have to say the best cigar I ever smoked in my life was a Diplomaticos, Cuban."
"Yes. I like them very much, although I tend more toward Cohibas, at least afterdinner. Romeo and Juliet and Dunhill make a good cigar even if the tobacco isn't Cuban. But you know, the Cubans really do have the perfect conditions for cigar tobacco. Funny, isn't it, cigars are as unique as wine and just as difficult to produce. Another fine art," he sighed. "Damned fool embargo. Hell, when the embargo was declared, President Kennedy had humidors stuffed with Cuban cigars. That's what raises my blood pressure more than anything—hypocrisy."
"The hypocrite honors morals or the law by pretending to obey."
Bill laughed, appreciating the fine point. "Another brandy?" As they walked inside, Bill draped his arm over the professor's narrow shoulders. "I married Patricia, but you know when I knew I was completely, totally, eternally in love with that woman? When she dragged me out of bed at four-thirty in the morning for weeks our first year to pick the grapes. She spared me nothing. We did much of the physical work ourselves, and I am not an early riser. But, you know, the happiness on her face, the shared goal—for the first time in my life I have a three-hundred-sixty-degree relationship with awoman, the most remarkable woman I have ever known."
"You are a fortunate man, because she's one of the most beautiful women in the world."
Bill puffed his last puff. "Beauty may bring you to a woman, but it won't keep you. She has to have beauty from within."
"Ah, like the vine. It, too, must express the beauty from within."
"Poetic." Bill smiled as they rejoined the guests in the den, where a lively discussion was in progress about the spiritual difference between baseball, football, and basketball.
Professor Forland knew little about sports, but the sight of women as impassioned about sports as the men was not unique to him. In Blacksburg, football was a religion both genders appeared to worship equally.
However, the true achievement of Virginia Tech lay in its vibrant social life. It was once written in a national magazine when rating the best party schools in America that they couldn't include Tech. It would be unfair to pit professionals against amateurs.
As the guests left, Toby and Arch fell in step some distance behind Rollie and Chauntal.
At the bottom of the curving outdoor stairs, Toby abruptly asked, "Why'd you leave Tech for California? Being a professor is a soft job, a good one."
"Hands on. Classroom's not for me, but I didn't know that until I taught for two years."
"Didn't have anything to do with Mary Minor?" Toby used Harry's true Christian name and her maiden surname.
They reached Toby's truck, parked well below the great house. "A little, I guess."
Toby leaned against the door, crossed his arms over his chest. "What was it like working out there in Napa Valley?"
"Different world, a totally different world. But the people who have been hired by the rich people—the movie stars' people and all that, those Italians and French that actually run the vineyards—they are something. They are true blue. They had to adjust to a different climate, soils, rainfall, and a whole different way of living, but, boy, look what they are producing." He paused a moment. "Good as it is and beautiful as it is, too many people in California, even in Napa Valley. They're like locusts just eating everything up."
"Never happen here."
"Oh, yeah? Toby, Charlottesville came in as the number-one place to live in America."
"Ah, just a poll. The rest of the country, outside the South, I mean, thinks we're all a bunch of dumb rednecks."
"Hope so." Arch laughed.
Toby laughed, too, a rarity for him. "Yeah, keep 'em out. Hey, want to see what I just bought?"
"Sure."
He opened the truck and pulled down the raised center console/armrest. He popped open the lid and removed a handgun. "Isn't this something? Brand-new. A Ruger P95PR. Bought two boxes of ten-round magazines, too."