The Biondi Brothers

By Rosemary Andrews

Both the California and Italian vineyards burn down at the same time. How can that be? Is the mafia involved? The Biondi Brothers is a faith-based novel centered on four brothers whose persona and lives are vastly different yet firmly intertwined, not just through blood, but also the in-heritance of two wineries. Personal peace evades them until

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Nov 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781685152154

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Neddy

I

t was hot. Hot and sticky. Ned didn’t like the way his shirt was clinging to him. It felt as if a vapor of glue were trapped between his pale-yellow shirt and the dampness of his skin. But his loyalties ran deep, so he continued to scan the street for any signs of trouble. He was seasoned at this and took pride in his craftiness. Nothing on Ned moved except his eyes, and that movement was camouflaged behind black reflective sunglasses.

Anyone glancing in his direction wouldn’t have given him a second thought—just some ruffled-looking guy leaning against the side of a building. From the angle of his head, you might think he was just staring down at his red sneakers or maybe even taking a siesta.

The only thing cool about Ned was the fantasy playing out in his mind. A long, deep dive into a glacier-fed lake—oh, man, if he could just do that for twenty seconds, he would be able to tolerate this humidity. But, then again, you would never catch him diving into any lake, cold, tropical, or otherwise. He was deathly afraid of water. He stood his post because his boss needed him, needed him to be the lookout, to protect him, die for him, if necessary. So Ned stayed planted where he was.

CHAPTER 2

Jay

J

ay leaned back into his leather swivel chair and with a frustrated heave, pushed away from his office desk. The wheels rolled noisily across the polished, mahogany floor. He twirled around, which gave him a bird's-eye view through the floor-to-ceiling windows down to the street below. Even though the tinted glass kept the sun from scorching through, he knew it was another record-breaking hot and humid California afternoon, the kind that make your pores scream out for a walk through a meat freezer. It made him homesick for those cold snowdrift days of winter back in Wisconsin, where he grew up. Jay flinched at the sight of his reflection staring back at him from the window. You couldn’t identify the warm, chestnut color of his eyes, but there was no missing the intensity. He leaned forward in his chair, challenging his reflection to a staring contest and said out loud, What are you going to do now, Jacob Biondi?

His mind was scattered. He felt like a Mexican jumping bean, jitterbugging from one half-finished thought to another. He held his pen horizontally between three fingers and began tapping on his thigh, back and forth, back and forth. Taking a deep breath, he threw his head back against the deep, ebony leather and gazed up at the stained-glass orb of skylight that took up the entire ceiling. He usually found that very comforting, mesmerizing, with the sunlight flickering through the oranges and yellows, intensifying the blues and purples, but today it had no effect.

His office was on the top floor of the building and business he had inherited from his father, Anthony Biondi: Biondi Brothers Winery. Tiled steps with wrought-iron handrails led from the outside courtyard to the second-floor tasting room in a winding, S-shaped pattern. Floors 3 and 4 were basically empty except for file cabinets filled with office supplies and miscellaneous tax papers and receipts. The basement was used for wine storage and shipping. The family name was chiseled in high relief around the archway leading into the courtyard, along with its logo, which included a grape bunch in deep merlot draping down through the lettering on the left and two half-filled wine glasses, rims touching in celebration, on the right.

Years before, his father had purchased three hundred acres of prime land in Sonoma Valley with the intent of importing their famous Chianti Superiore grape stock from Biondi Brothers vineyard in Italy and establishing a vineyard in California. He had purchased the building in San Francisco to showcase and sell both the locally grown and Italian Chianti in what had become a local hot spot for wine tasting. Plus, it made sense to be more conveniently located near the San Francisco docks for receiving shipments from Italy.

Jay had worked long and hard to get where he was. The Biondis had always been honest in their dealings, and that reputation followed them from the Biondi family vineyard in Italy to the relatively young vineyard in California. Now, that son-of-a-bitch brother and his other spineless sibling had set him up for a fall. A big fall. A Humpty-Dumpty, never-to-be-put-back-together-again fall. He wanted to sucker punch both of them right between the eyes. He had planted the vineyards and built the entire California operation from the ground up, and no Italian mafia was going to ruin it for him. Something had to give. Soon.

CHAPTER 3

Ms. Caine

T

here was a light knock on his office door, and Ms. Caine entered without waiting to be invited. Her first name was Jocelyn, but she insisted on office decorum at all times and was, therefore, addressed as Ms. Caine with no exceptions.

She had been a mainstay with the family business long before the reins had been handed over to Jay. At Anthony's request, and a rather substantial salary increase, she had stayed behind at the vineyard in Italy when he had packed up his family and moved to Wisconsin. But then, as times and circumstances changed, Jay had asked her to move to the states and oversee the new venture in California. She ran every aspect of the business like a fine-tuned watch and thrived on being the one in charge. She was no nonsense and high energy. No one could have guessed that the end of middle age was snickering at her from around the corner. She carried her five-foot, two-inch Italian frame with authority and could drill you into humility with one flash of her deep, nearly black eyes. There was no room for wasted motion, let alone time, in her world. She knew her value, and no one could ever disrupt that confidence.

I just came back from the post office. Ned is standing out there in this god-awful heat again.

CHAPTER 4

Jay and Ned

J

ay ran his hands through his thick, sandy-colored hair and shook his head.

He thought back to the beginning of his friendship with Ned. How many years ago had it been? It was now 1973 and they were both in their mid thirties, so their connection at the hip had been going on for over twenty years. Looking back on it now, they must have been fourteen, freshmen in high school. Ned had been a strange but likeable kid. He just kind of showed up one day. Eventually, Jay discovered that Ned had been transferred in from another district that claimed lack of resources and a faculty ill-equipped to deal with low-range IQ students.

During their high school years, Ned's admiration knew no end when it came to Jay. Jay was everything Ned wanted to be: tall, good looking, athletic, an Honor Society member, involved in school politics, and boy, was he popular with the girls. In Ned's eyes, Jay was pure white in contrast to his countenance of darkness. His home environment had slapped away any self-esteem that should have been rightfully his, and because of his upbringing, he was totally lacking in social graces. It didn’t help that he had an IQ of seventy.

Jay smiled as he remembered Ned always hanging around him, in the shadows or just around the corner, but near him nonetheless. Before they became inseparable, Jay would throw him an I-see-you-there smile once in a while. Ned's face always froze in self-inflicted panic before he relaxed enough to smile back. Then he would disappear for a couple of days, as if that recognition was too much for him to handle.

Ned was actually a good-looking kid with a mop of golden-brown curls that looked as if it had never seen a comb. There was barely room in his small, oval face for his large, searching brown eyes. He sure didn’t look mentally challenged, and the girls would flock around him until they learned otherwise. His lack of smarts made him skittish, and he wore his shyness around him like a cloak. But once he became a permanent fixture at Jay's side, they began treating him like a cute, cuddly teddy bear and loved teasing him just to watch him turn beet red. Ned tolerated the jesting because it was the price he had to pay for hanging with his hero. Jay had an immediate empathy for Ned, and although the process took time, once Ned was convinced that Jay could always be trusted, their relationship began to solidify. By the end of their freshman year, Ned had become fully accepted and his mental slowness shrugged off simply because he was Jay's sidekick.

The worst point in their relationship was Jay's fault. Even reliving it today made him wince. After much cajoling and explaining, he convinced Ned to go on a double date. Jay's steady at the time had a cousin coming in from out of town, and it was decided they would go up to Granite Hill and take in a movie at the drive-in theater. Jay's girl hadn’t thought to mention to her cousin that Ned was rather dim. The evening went okay until cousin-dear decided she wanted to do more than watch the movie. Ned rebuffed her every advance until she became so indignant that she flounced over to her side of the car and said, What is wrong with you? Are you some kind of a retard or something?

Jay had to chase Ned through the parking lot and halfway down the hill before he caught up to him. Ned knew the word retard. He knew it well. He heard it at home every day of his life. That ended the dating life of Ned Johnson, and it also plopped Ned and Jay back at square one regarding trust.

CHAPTER 5

The Life-Changing Event

I

t had been late fall when the life-changing event happened. It was bone-chilling cold with two to three feet of Wisconsin snow piled up everywhere you looked, and a whole lot more in the forecast. Along with his mother and two brothers, Jay had just finished off the last of the Thanksgiving turkey and somehow managed to find a few remaining belly crevices in which to stuff pumpkin pie and mounds of whipped cream. Completely happy and miserably full at the same time, he thanked his mom, gave her a hug, and said he was going out for a walk and some fresh air. After fussing over him, as she always did, with reminders of being safe and back home before dark, away he went. The midday sun was shining down clear and strong, but its warmth was barricaded above the crisp winter air. Tragedy was the furthest thing from his mind when he started out on that hike.

Winter had always been his favorite time of the year. He couldn’t remember that it ever snowed in Italy, but then he was only eight when they moved stateside. He loved the snow—couldn’t get enough of it, even when he had to shovel it. His two younger brothers tried to help, but there had been quite a lull in baby making between him and them. They were only six and four at the time and more bothersome than helpful. Nonetheless, he always waited patiently while they put on motherly layers of warmth so they could follow him outside to help. Then the fun began: snow angels, fort building, and plenty of snowball fights. By the end of winter, the yard always held no less than a dozen snow sentries standing guard. When his brothers, Anton and Timothy, were good and tired, he would scoot them back inside for hot cocoa and then get to the task of shoveling by himself.

Looking back, he remembered having wandered down toward the large pond on their two-acre property when he saw Ned out of the corner of his eye. It was the first time Jay had ever seen Ned on his property, and he wondered how long he had been hanging around in the cold. Ned was real quirky that way. Jay decided to make a game of it. Trudging quickly through the snow and winding his way around several large trees, he stepped behind one before Ned could spot him. Just before Ned rounded the tree, Jay jumped out, waved his arms, and gave a boisterous yell. He should have known better. Totally startled, Ned let out a yelp, stumbled backward, and took off run-clomping through the snow.

Jay couldn’t stop laughing. Come on back, Ned. I was just kidding around, he yelled after him.

No way was Ned going to stop. This was total confusion to him. The shock of Jay jumping out at him, the dismay of his idol yelling at him, the wonderment of not knowing which way to run—he was like a wild colt separated from his mother by a fence.

Jay felt bad. Then he felt worse when he saw the direction Ned was heading, straight for the pond.

Ned, slow up, stop, Jay hollered at him. Don’t go on the pond.

But it was too late; just three long strides out onto the ice-covered water, and it gave way, taking Ned down into its ten-foot depths.

Holy smokes! Jay cried out as he took off at a lumbering trot.

During the first snowfall of the season, he had jury-rigged a long handle onto a push broom so he could reach out across the pond and sweep away each day's new covering of snow before it became too deep to deal with. Jay had tested the ice after sweeping. There were a couple of spots frozen solid but, on the whole, still too many places that creaked under his weight.

Once it was frozen solid, ice-skating was an ongoing activity for him and his brothers throughout the winter months. Grooming the pond was done in preparation for their long-standing Biondi family tradition. Every Christmas Eve they would build a bonfire near the edge of the pond and ice-skate until dusk. His mom always set out a sideboard of cheeses and sausages with trays of Christmas cookies and treats before they left for the pond. Laughing away the tingling numbness in their fingers, it seemed like they always got back to the house just before frostbite set in. The fireplace would be crackling, the evergreen tree twinkling. Then Christmas officially began. By the time the last present had been opened, the only thing left on that sideboard would be crumbs and empty platters. The last task of the evening was to hang their stockings on the mantel. Exhausted from Santa anticipation and all the exercise, his two little brothers would fall fast asleep on the hearth rug. He and his mom would carry them to their beds and then set the card table close to the fire and play cribbage until the wee hours of the morning.

Jay couldn’t see Ned through the ice. There was a new, light dusting of snow that obliterated his view. Having left the push broom propped against a tree instead of returning it to the shed had seemed right at the time; now it seemed like a miracle. He grabbed it and slammed it into the trunk of a tree to loosen the snow and break off some of the ice crystals. Then, from the embankment, he began furiously whisking the snow away from the hole into which Ned had disappeared. He spotted him almost immediately. He was flailing under the ice only a couple of feet from where he went in.

Ned, you listen to me, now. Can you hear me? Jay yelled at the top of voice.

Ned's eyes were bugged out and almost vacant looking, but he appeared to be looking in Jay's direction.

Ned, you do what I say, hear me? You see this handle? You follow it to where I lead it. Understand?

Ned didn’t seem to have his bearings, and Jay didn’t know how much longer he could flail in all those heavy clothes without sinking to the bottom. His temperature must have already dropped ten degrees.

Jay was starting to panic. If you are really real, God, please, please, don’t let him drown. Please, God, please, God, he said over and over under his breath.

Ned…follow this stick…follow it, do you hear me? Jay began moving the broom handle toward the open hole in the ice and was relieved to see Ned following it with his outstretched arm.

Within seconds, Ned's head bobbed up out of the water. He was coughing and sputtering and still flailing.

Ned, listen up. Reach out and put your arm around the handle. Reach out, Ned. Do it now.

Ned tried. But his arm was too heavy, and he had become too weak. He looked up at Jay in hopelessness.

Jay had begun to shake. Listen to me, Ned. Listen good. If you want to be my best bud, you have to reach out and put your arm around the handle. You can do it, Ned.

His best bud…be his best bud? Was it the adrenaline rush from hearing those words, or was it his guardian angel? No one knows for sure, but Ned raised his arm and grabbed the handle in the crook of his elbow. Jay pulled with all his strength. Even though the ice continued to give way for the first few feet, Jay was able to hoist him up out of the water and drag him onto the embankment.

Mr. Jenkins, the neighbor across the field, had heard all the shouting and had come running as fast as he could to see what the ruckus was all about. One look told him all he needed to know. He quickly took off his coat, wrapped it tightly around Ned, and together, he and Jay crossed arms and carried him up to the house.

Mama Anna had quickly bundled him up in blankets on a chair near the fireplace. A mug of hot cocoa later finally had the desired effect. Up until then, Ned had been too numb and in shock to say anything or resist all the attention.

What he said bonded them for life.

You saved my life. I will save all of yours for the rest of your life.

It was kind of a cockeyed way to put it. But Jay got the point. He walked over and ruffled up Ned's mop of unkempt curls and said, Thanks, Ned. I’ll hold you to that.

CHAPTER 6

The Confrontation

N

ed hadn’t known his phone number. Considering his limited mental capacity, that didn’t surprise Jay's mother, Anna. All she had was his last name. Johnson. Ned Johnson. Good grief. Could there be any more Johnsons in the phone book? She asked him what street he lived on. He replied it was a tree. A tree? She began giving him options: Oak? Fir? Elm? He nodded his head when she said Elm. Thank goodness there was only one Johnson on Elm Street.

After the call, almost two hours went by. Jay and his mom frowned at each other several times, wondering what could be taking his parents so long to get to their son, to make sure he was all right. Jay had taken his mom into the kitchen and whispered all he knew about Ned, which wasn’t much, only that he lacked intelligence. Jay had never been to his house and didn’t even know if he had siblings.

Finally, there was a knock on their door. As Anna opened it, both she and Jay smelled his parents before they actually saw them.

Not waiting to be invited in, Mrs. Johnson stumbled through the doorway. You got our son? she asked accusingly. Mr. Johnson didn’t say a word but walked directly over to the chair in which Ned was resting. Jay didn’t like the way Mr. Johnson was glaring at him, with disgust, hate almost, like he was going to get the whooping of his life when they got home.

As you can see, he appears to be all right. We had quite a little fright.

You say he fell in a pond, huh? Mr. Johnson mumbled.

Yes. It was an accident.

Mr. Johnson brushed off that comment and to the utter shock of both Jay and his mother said, You should have just let him drown.

Excuse me?

He brushed off that comment too. He bent down and looking directly into Ned's eyes, said, Get out to the car.

Both Jay and his mom bristled at the same time.

"I don’t think that's a good idea just yet, Mr. Johnson. He is still