Her mother-in-law was who wore wine business, and did so with authority, although Marcy never saw her doing physical work with vines. She didn´t appear on industrial premises never. The laborers, and especially the winemaker, had the responsibility.
When she was young, was the heiress of possession and her husband, a simple villager, went there without acquiring the greatest importance, as if he were a guest. With an employee and the cook at her disposal twenty four hours per day, she conducted domestic life to the smallest detail. And in the afternoons she sat in the room or on the front porch to make crochet until dinner time, monitoring time in time over his glasses, the progress of her home.
Marcy never enjoyed the sympathy of his mother-in-law. When they were traveling on family to spend holidays on the farm, she maintained a so rigorous control of the house that the daughter-in-law was barely allowed fry an egg.
But she had to admit that her mother-in-law cooked great snacks, sweet omelets and chocolate, which are shared around the table in the dining room to everyone, every day of the summer, even more during the harvest, when they set long tables, with banks, on the porch, to all employees, the seasonal workers, owners and their family. Marcy remembered always those moments, the joy of taste those delicious sweets among all the people.
Their children adored that farm, and they had good reason. Since they stopped being babies spent free time playing with other children or mingled with employees, bathing in the pool and walking on a bike. But Marcy felt that her mother-in-law, had build a high barrier that she could not move, indicating that she didn´t belong to that world, to making a difference, especially in domestic life.
Such was the cause that Marcy had love even more with vineyards. She spent her time in the field, next to the workers, and knew perfectly the progress of vines, according to the station of the year, as well as the production process of the wine, the racking, fermentation, bottling.
She helped in the work with her own hands.
But Marcy not passed unnoticed that, without a clear reason, the winery achieved disproportionate profits, which were used to purchase machinery, new land and start planting. Nobody could explain that prosperity.
Marcy couldn´t explain why a small family vineyard had experienced that exorbitant growth.
Of course her mother-in-law, like his son, had a great ability to make money.
Almost every day the young couple left the farm, to the nearby village, to make purchases and they went on errands of all kinds. A town where, in the evenings, after the worst hours of sun in summer, the only fun for people was sitting on the banks, that lined the main street, for watching everyone and criticize. And where in the winter did not see anyone day after day. In that town and its region, the time passed so slowly that it was always the same boring town and seemed not change ever.
The winemaker, a chemical engineer, was former employee of the Duxa Limited. Manele had transplanted him into property, and he lived in the village with his family and was responsible for the purchase of materials and products for the estate.
The young marriage used to accompany him and, after errands had done, they sat drinking some beers in a bar in town, before returning to the property to eat. At that time winemaker placed them abreast of everything that happened on the farm so that the couple, despite living and working out of there, was aware of every detail.
But Marcy was noting that the relationship was spacing with the passage of time, to the extent that winemaker avoided old meetings, and they were abandoning them. The winemaker became a nervous, elusive man. It seemed a person struggling to hide something dirty.
Even he got to tell Marcy, in an aside with her on the farm, words that did not allowed coming to no conclusion.
The man was suffering; Marcy had a sixth sense to that kind of things.