The Missouri Review

THE RANGOLD CONSORTIUM / Kent Nelson AT GARDNER'S LABOR DAY BARBECUE in Cos Cob, Rangold jLx. suggested, after a few gin and tonics, that we form a consortium. "Who's we," asked Gardner, who always challenged an idea. Rangold eyed Gardner coolly, as though to confirm complicity. "Well, Dexter and you," he said, "and me, and, of course, Wrye there." He finished by pointing at me. "A consortium to do what?" Dexter asked. With long deft fingers, Rangold plucked the lime from his gin and squeezed it slowly and thoroughly into his glass. He continued looking at me as if, as his attorney, I had already approved the plan. The he looked at the other two. "Make wine," he said softly. Gardner was a heavy-set man, and in his marriage and business relationships he was accustomed to physical intimidation. With friends he sometimes became testy when the same tactics were unsuccessful. "What about this, Wrye?" he asked me. "It's the first I've heard of it," I said. "You can buy it cheaper," Gardner pronounced. Rangold smiled. "Maybe you can," he said, picking up the skewer from the side of the brick barbecue where Gardner had laid a mountain of steak chunks, green peppers, tomatoes, raw cauliflower, and pineapple. "That's not the point." "We know nothing about winemaking," Dexter put in. Rangold ignored his bit of cynicism, and I could tell he was not about to let the matter drop. He could be quite tenacious in his own exuberant and gracious way. "I've thought about it," he said easily, "and it's natural for the four of us. Dexter can provide some of the materiel though his wife's pharmaceutical company, and Wrye has incomparable legal skills." He paused and then added, as if to counter my well-documented conservatism, "Wrye is the sort of man who would appreciate an adventure like this." "Wait a minute," Gardner interrupted. "You're serious?" "Do I look like a man who jests?" "Well, Tm not so different from Wrye," Gardner said huffily. He poked the coals roughly and adjusted the air intake vent on the barbecue. "What do I contribute?" Rangold nodded. "I didn't mean to imply you weren't so adventurous as Wrye," he said, setting up Gardner beautifully. "You supply the land." The Missouri Review · 7 "Land?" "We'll convert your holdings in the Hudson Valley." The smoothness with which Rangold offered this statement and the casual way he sipped his drink afterward gave Gardner a start. "My little bit of land?" "I know about your land," Rangold said. "It's a tax shelter." "You can get the same break from a vineyard as from a farm," I said, welcoming the opportunity to play devil's advocate. I took pleasure in Gardner's discomfort. "And Rangold?" Gardner snapped at me. "What does he do?" Rangold smiled and brandished the skewer in his hand. His dark eyes gleamed like a child's. "It's my idea," he said. "I'm the winetaster." Dexter laughed aloud. Per custom, he was inebriated before the food was served, and he looked at me and raised his thick, graying eyebrows. "The POW's used to make wine from raisins during the war," he said. "Rangold was not in the war," said Gardner. Rangold danced away, parried in the air with the skewer, then jabbed the point lightly into Dexter's green Izod shirt. "Wine is better for you than that nasty manhattan," he said. "Do you think you can prevail upon your sweet wife for a few pieces of glass? If you want, I'll speak to her." "No, no," Dexter said, rising to the bait. He was afraid of his wife. "Wonderful," Gardner said sarcastically. "Dexter's the hardware man, Wrye lends his legal mind, and I give up my farm. When we've given up all we have, Rangold drinks the stuff." "It won't be 'stuff/ " Rangold said. He smiled quickly, resuming his enthusiasm. "The South is ready for wine. The Midwest, too. Many parts of the country are just awakening to civilization." Gardner turned abruptly to me. "What do you think, Peter? You've been quiet." I...