Season of Change(119)

                “You don’t own it anymore? Who does?”

                “Larry. He’s bought up lots of property in town. Stands to make a fortune if your winery is successful. That’s why he fights you over every penny. He’s over-leveraged and short on cash.”

                They continued their slow ascent to the top of the small hill and sat on a bench in front of Takata’s family tomb. The heat and surroundings were oppressive, despite a poplar that provided shade, and the occasional weak breeze that barely rustled its leaves.

                Slade put the box of Cubans and the flowers on the bench between them. He stared at his loafers. “Nice view.”

                “Don’t lie. Being here bothers you, doesn’t it?” Takata removed a cigar from the box. “I take comfort that my loved ones are here, at my back. You probably don’t think about your parents over there to the left, taking care of each other.”

                Slade pulled at his collar. “Mom wouldn’t have approved of what Dad did.”

                “S’pose not.” Takata lit the cigar with several quick puffs. “But she’d forgive him. That’s what this place is all about. Forgiveness.” He sat back on the bench. “My wife was very sick before she died. We tried everything—traditional treatments, new age medicine, prayer. But nothing I did could stop her from slipping away. In the end, she wanted relief from all the pain.”

                Takata took a big drag on his cigar. “For a long time, I had to live with my guilt. Why her and not me? I smoked. I drank. She’d done neither. One day, as I was sitting here, I realized the time of her passing wasn’t up to me. I’d been left behind, alone, for a reason.”

                An idea put forth by Will’s fiancée, Emma, last night. Too bad Slade wasn’t a believer in fate. He couldn’t see anything beyond proving to himself that he could atone for his father’s loss by making money.

                “I think the reason I’m still here is you.” Takata’s dark eyes drilled into Slade’s.

                It was Slade’s turn to scoff.

                “Laugh all you want. You’re not getting rid of me.” The old man gazed over the crosses and headstones marching down the hill.

                As threats went, this one made Slade smile. “I could move.”

                Takata blew a smoke ring. “You’d have to deal with all your father’s things.”

                A bird swooped to the grass nearby, hopping closer, as if to make sure they hadn’t brought any food to share. It took flight with a disapproving chirp.

                Slade wasn’t willing to let the old man win that easily. “I could shut the house up and leave town.”

                “You’d leave an old man alone?” Takata tried his best to look forlorn, but Slade knew him too well. “Who knows? I may write you into my will. I’ve got no heirs.”

                Slade laughed. “You barely know me.”

                “I watched you grow up. You’ve done your parents proud.”

                Slade didn’t know what to say. Takata’s praise meant more than any write-up he’d gotten in business magazines.

                “And now I want you to do me proud.” Takata gestured downhill. “I want you to head down that slope and say some words to your parents. I’ll wait here.”