Dad sighs and nods. “It certainlycontributes, yeah.”
We go back to eating for a while, and I seemy Uncle Ren in a whole new light. He’s a successful businessmanwho owns five gas stations in Santa Rosa, but talk about humblebeginnings and dedication to family.
As if my dad hears my thoughts, he says,“After your mother and I got married, Ren got his high schoolequivalency, kept working two jobs seven days a week, but went tocommunity college at nights. He’d saved enough money to work onejob, night shift, and go to Sonoma State during the day where hegot his degree in business. I never doubted Ren would besuccessful.”
Most of this Max had shared with me andLaura, but still, our Uncle Ren is one impressive dude.
“Stefano left the Marines after seven years,took a trip around the world, met your
Aunt Asta, and brought her back to Santa Rosaand married her. Then he got a job at Northrop Grumman, and isstill there. In other words, life went on, and your mother becamemore settled. She had you girls, and the winery was takingoff.”
Our waiter cleared away the plates, and Dadorders baklava for us to share.
“In nineteen-ninety, we started having foodpairings with our wine tastings. Mostly local restaurants,creameries, and cheese producers worked with us. But we used a foodimporter in San Francisco to bring in Italian salami and a fewother products. That’s when I met Alessandro Di Caro.”
Don Di Caro did not lie, but he sure didn’tput a fine point on it either.
“Part of my job was procurement, and he didbusiness with the guy who owned the food import company in SanFrancisco. Looking to expand his reach, Alessandro came out to thewinery one weekend when we were having a big wine and cheesepairing event. He was impressed with what he saw, and asked if hecould tour our father’s vineyards.
“Yournonnoloved Alessandro. As youknow, Ter, he’s a charming man with laser focus. But with yournonno, Alessandro was total old school. They talked only inItalian, and shared stories about home. Dad had never been toSicily and loved hearing Alessandro’s stories. Alessandro knewPiemonte well, and had done business with one of our cousins, whichthrilled Dad.”
Dessert arrives and it’s a good thing there’sthree of us, because I could only manage one forkful. That stuff issweeeet.
“Over the course of about eighteen months,Alessandro came out to visit us about four times. Your motherthought he was gracious and respectful. I liked him because he wasstraightforward and didn’t hide his intentions. Your Aunt Asta andUncle Stefano were at the winery for an event one of the timesAlessandro was there, and they liked him.” Dad laughs. “Especiallyyour Aunt Asta. After he left, she couldn’t stop talking about hisblue eyes.”
I chuckle. “His son, Gio, is a carbon copy.But if it’s possible, he’s even better-looking. I’ve been out withhim and his fiancée, and girls, women, older women, all look at himlike he’s an ice cream cone they want to lick.”
Laura says, “She ain’t lying, Dad.”
He smiles. “Yournonnacommented onthose blue eyes too.” We all laugh. “Anyway, yournonnowasin his early seventies at the time of Alessandro’s last visit, whenhe made it clear he wanted to buy into the winery and the vineyard.Dad was all for it, and so was I. Dominic wasn’t. He didn’t want aDon to ‘stain’ the family.”
Dad watched me closely before he continued.“We all knew there were two sides to Alessandro’s businesses. I’mnot a stupid or naïve man. I looked into his holdings, and saw theywere straight up and well apart from the other side of Alessandro’sbusinesses. I made sure the part of his organization he wanted tobring into the winery and the vineyard was clean. I brought theresearch to your Uncle Dominic, and I made him come with me to acouple of Bay Area businesses Alessandro had interests in. Dominicdidn’t care. He wanted no part of Alessandro Di Caro.”
Dad folds his napkin and throws it on thetable. Here comes what caused the split.
“One night, we had a family meeting at thewinery. Yournonnoandnonna, Dominic and Merrie, meand your mother. Yournonnoandnonnamade their casefor the influx of cash. Grapes and wine are a huge business inCalifornia. About one hundred fourteen billion dollars annually. Aswe’ve seen, a fire or a flood can wipe out towns, vineyards, andwineries overnight. It’s smart business to have stable investorswho can help keep a business running, and, if need be, have thecash to help in times of emergencies. Yournonnowas anastute businessman. He knew we needed strong backup to keephealthy. When he was done, everyone else said their piece. Merrie,as always, listened, and was quiet and thoughtful when she spoke.The only one who was against Alessandro’s buy-in was youruncle.
“We had a rule. Major decisions had to beunanimous. As much as I thought my brother was being a horse’s ass,if he didn’t want to do it, I would’ve gotten back to Alessandroand told him no.”
Dad shook his head and grimaced.
“Your mother pointed out that if what Dominicwas afraid of was true, Alessandro could’ve or would’vestrong-armed us. That’s when my brother turned ugly and saiddisparaging things to your mother about how someone with herbackground would recognize low class and excuse it.”
Dad’s lips have gone thin and his hands arefist-balls. My guess, he’s sugarcoating what Dominic said. I knowmy uncle, and he has a temper and a sharp tongue. That night, hewas the only one on the losing side of what sounds like a smartbusiness play. I bet he lashed out, and chose the weakest person atthe table to pick on.
“Your mother got upset and ran out of thewinery, crying. It had been raining and she slipped and fell down.”Dad looks at the ceiling. “She was bleeding.” He closes his eyes.”She was pregnant, and she was bleeding.” He shakes his head and hiseyes remain shut. “I took her to the hospital, but there wasnothing they could do.”
Dad gets up and walks toward the archwaywhere the restroom signs are.
Laura and I have tears in our eyes.
“Holy shit,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say.
We reach under the table and clasp eachother’s hands and hold on tight.
“Fucker,” Laura says.