The Vineyard
Republican presidential candidate Mitchell Conlon was campaigning through the Mid-Atlantic states with his wife, Jeannine; his campaign manager, Jared Sisk; and his running mate, Tiffany Pilchard. After leaving a rally in Union County, New Jersey, the American flag-bedecked luxury coach drove over the Delaware Water Gap Bridge and entered Pennsylvania.
"It's important for you to make a good impression in the Keystone State," Jared told the former conservative senator from Nebraska. "New York and New Jersey, traditionally blue states, will most likely go for your Democratic opponent. However, Pennsylvania is a swing state. The central and western, more rural, parts of the state are behind you. We need to target our efforts on Philly, Pittsburgh and the easternmost portion of the state."
"Why the east?" asked Tiffany with a heavy Southern drawl.
Middle-aged Tiffany Pilchard was chosen as Mitchell Conlon's running mate not because she held a political science degree from the University of Alabama, but because she was still attractive, despite her years. The former Miss Alabama, who barely graduated with a 2.0 GPA, was the antithesis of the Democrat's female presidential candidate, a more "mature" woman who taught law at Harvard but had—as her Republican opponent expressed—"a face that would stop a clock."
"The counties on this side of the Delaware River," Jared answered Tiffany's question, "contain many transplants from New York and New Jersey, particularly in the Poconos where they have easy access to I-80, which allows them to commute to higher paying jobs in their former states."
Jeannine, a former actress whose only claim to fame was a one-line role on Supernatural and a brief role on All My Children that lasted only four episodes, was getting bored.
"Can we stop soon?" she whined. "My ass is getting numb from sitting on this bus so long."
"Why don't we get to eat?" suggested Mitchell, who suffered from both an expanding waistline and a receding hairline. "Are there any good restaurants around here?"
After checking his phone, Jared replied, "There are the usual chain places—Olive Garden, Texas Roadhouse, Red Lobster, Longhorn. If you prefer, there are Italian restaurants, Chinese, Mexican. You name it. There are also several diners, inns, grills, vineyards ...."
"Vineyards?" the candidate echoed. "In Pennsylvania? This isn't Napa Valley."
"According to Google, there are about fifteen vineyards and wineries in this region."
"Why don't we stop at one?" Tiffany asked. "I could go for a nice glass of chardonnay about now."
"Pick one that has food," Mitchell instructed Jared.
Having selected Mystic Vines because of its Yelp rating, the campaign manager provided the driver with directions. After a twenty-minute drive, the bus pulled into the winery's parking lot. The flags and the candidate's name emblazoned on each side drew attention from the vineyard's visitors and employees alike.
Jared was the first one to emerge from the vehicle. Since he had phoned ahead, announcing their arrival, the owner and his wife had prepared a table for their VIP guests.
"Welcome to Mystical Vines, Mr. Conlon. Mrs. Conlon, Miss Pilchard," Garret Wheatley, the vintner, said with a slight bow of his head. "You honor us with your presence."
June, his wife, handed menus and wine lists to the party once they were seated.
"Why don't we start with drinks?" the candidate recommended.
"I'll have that glass of chardonnay," Tiffany declared.
"Make mine pinot grigio," Jeannine said.
"Sauvignon blanc sounds good," Jared added.
"And merlot for me," Mitchell told June. "While you're getting our wine, we'll take a look at the menu and decide what we want to eat."
He put down the wine list and gave the woman his vote-for-me smile.
"Thank you," she said with a stern demeanor, apparently immune to his false charm. "I'll be right back."
Just as they had all chosen different wines, their food selections also varied. Jeannine, as usual, wanted nothing more than a small salad. Tiffany, who, like the candidate's wife, was calorie-conscious, chose grilled chicken breast with steamed vegetables. Jared, a jogger and health fanatic, ordered baked salmon with spinach and quinoa. The rotund Mitchell, on the other hand, had a voracious appetite.
"I'll start with French onion soup, heavy on the cheese. Then, as my entrée, I'll have a full rack of barbecued ribs. For my sides, I want coleslaw and a baked potato with lots of butter and sour cream. And I'd like to see a dessert menu when I'm done."
By the time the food was brought to the table, the four guests had drained their wineglasses. Garret, who had been keeping a close eye on them from across the room, hurried to the table with a bottle of wine in his hand.
"Ah, my good man," Mitchell greeted him loudly and boisterously, "it seems we're in need of refills. Another merlot, if you please."
"I thought you and your companions might like to try our vin de la maison," the vintner said, uncorking the bottle he held.
"Vindy what?" asked Tiffany, unfamiliar with most foreign expressions.
"Vin de la maison is French for 'house wine.' This particular vintage is available only at our winery. It is a special field blend made from grapes I personally cultivated. It is a wine we offer to only a select few," he explained, sharing a guarded look with June.
"I'm game," the candidate eagerly proclaimed. "Pour me a glass. And have your wife bring me the dessert menu."
Four clean wineglasses were brought to the table, and Garret filled each one.
"It looks like Malbec to me," claimed Jared, who believed himself to be a wine connoisseur.
"Uh! It's dark red!" Tiffany exclaimed with aversion. "I personally like white wine."
"Me, too," Jeannine agreed. "I'll stick to pinot grigio."
"Trust me, ladies, you will enjoy this wine," the vineyard owner promised.
The campaign manager was the first one to taste his. The candidate's wife, despite her predilection for white wines, also took a sip.
"Mmm. Full-bodied," Jared described it. "Complex layers and balanced flavor with subtle nuances."
Jeannine rolled her eyes and sneered, "Seriously? Where do you come off pretending to be a sommelier? You worked your way through college being a bartender at Hooters."
"A some-al-yeah?" Tiffany echoed. "What is that?"
"Oh, excuse me, Miss Alabama. I forgot that you have difficulty understanding words with more than two syllables."
Mitchell was about to caution his wife about being rude in public when June brought dessert menus to their table.
"Ah! Yes. Now it's time for the best part of any meal!"
Both women declined a menu since neither ate high-calorie sweets.
"Let's see," Jared muttered to himself, studying the offerings. "What looks good?"
"It all looks good!" the candidate opined, putting down his glass after sampling the house wine. "I'd like to sample everything on this menu."
"Honestly, I don't know where you put it all!" The campaign manager immediately apologized, unaware that he had spoken aloud. "I'm s-sorry. I d-didn't mean that."
"You only said what we were all thinking," Jeannine contended. "My husband has the appetite of a sumo wrestler."
"And the way he's going, he's going to have the shape of one."
The three other people at the table stared, open-mouthed with astonishment, at Tiffany. The former beauty queen never said a harsh word about anyone, least of all, the man who had selected her as his running mate.
"Maybe you ought not to drink," Mitchell warned her.
"But this wine is delicious," she argued. "Much better than the white wine I had with dinner. I may not be an expert like your ass kisser here, but I know what I like."
Her having referred to the campaign manager as an "ass kisser" caused the candidate's wife to laugh hysterically.
"And all this time," Jeannine managed to say, "I thought you were nothing more than a dumb blonde, a hick from Alabama but one with a sweet disposition nonetheless. I'm glad to see you're not such a ninny after all."
"No, I'm not," Tiffany admitted. "Of course, I'm nowhere near as much of a bitch as you are."
"How dare you!" Jeannine shouted and would have tossed her drink in the other woman's face had she not already finished her wine. "I ought to ...."
Jared, noticing other diners in the restaurant were watching the altercation, stepped in to smooth the ruffled feathers.
"Now, ladies, let's remember we're in public," he reminded them and signaled the vintner to refill all their glasses.
"Yes, dear," Mitchell chastised his wife. "Control yourself. You don't want the voters to know what a shrew you are."
"God forbid we should let our guard down!" she angrily countered. "You wouldn't want them to know what a liar and a hypocrite you are."
"Maybe we ought to leave," Jared suggested. "Everyone is done eating. Why don't you go out to the bus, and I'll get the check."
"I'm not done eating," Mitchell maintained. "I haven't had my dessert yet."
"What do you want? I'll order it to go, and you can eat it on the bus."
"You're my campaign manager, not my conscience. I tell you what to do; you don't tell me."
"That's your problem. You don't want to listen to anyone. I told you not to get involved with that underage girl in Memphis. If word gets out about her, you'll never get elected."
"Underage girl?" echoed Jeannine, who knew of many of her husband's infidelities but was unaware of his latest indiscretion. "How young was she?"
"That's it!" the candidate screamed at his campaign manager. "You're fired."
"How young?" his wife repeated, her face red with rage.
"Thirteen," Jared answered, eager to get back at the man who had fired him.
Both women at the table stared at Mitchell with disgust.
"She's a child!" his running mate cried.
"Do you have proof of this?" Jeannine asked Jared.
"Yes, I do."
"Good. Because I'll need it when I sue this lecher for divorce."
Realizing that not only were his presidential aspirations at risk but that he might also face criminal charges, not to mention having to pay his wife a hefty divorce settlement, Mitchell lost his appetite for dessert. As he rose from his seat, he noticed the other people in the restaurant. Every one of them was watching the argument that was taking place. Worst of all, some were recording the clash with their cell phones.
"Let's get out of here," he ordered his wife and running mate. "Not you," he growled at Jared. "You don't work for me anymore. You can call an Uber to take you to the airport."
Seeing the four people about to leave, Garret Wheatley appeared at the table with the bill.
Mitchell, who never carried money when he was on the campaign trail, turned to the man he had just fired, expecting him to pay and add the cost onto his expense account. Jared smiled contemptuously, took out his credit card and told the vintner to charge his salmon meal, along with a twenty percent tip, to the card.
"And the balance?" Garret inquired. "How is that to be paid?"
"That's his problem," the unemployed man replied, nodding his head toward the candidate. "Like the man said, I don't work for him anymore."
The former campaign manager was about to walk away when Mitchell grabbed him by the arm.
"Why you!" he bellowed.
The vitriolic diatribe that followed consisted of words that would have been censored from all news coverage. However, most patrons captured the harangue on their cell phones.
"My god!" Tiffany exclaimed, forcing a smile for the onlookers. "Shut up. Can't you see you're causing a scene?"
"I don't give a damn! And who are you to criticize me?" he demanded to know, turning his wrath on his running mate. "I never wanted you on my ticket. But the RNC insisted I choose a woman if I hoped to get any support in the blue states."
"Well, you certainly don't imagine I wanted to be your running mate," the former beauty queen cried, unleashing her own anger. "You're nothing but a dirty old man who can't keep his hands to himself. That night at the convention when you got the party's nomination, it was all I could do to keep you from groping me."
Jeannine, overhearing the accusations hurled at her husband, joined in the fray.
"Is that really why you picked this overaged Barbie doll as your VP?"
"An overaged Barbie doll!" Tiffany yelled. "How dare you, you anorexic zombie? You can't possibly think I would have an affair with him! Unlike you, I wouldn't lower myself to marry for money."
"No? But from what I heard, you lowered yourself plenty to win that beauty title."
While the four VIP guests were screaming at one another and the visitors were preserving the quarrel for posterity, Garret and his wife quietly watched from the sidelines, a slight smile on both their faces. It was not until the fighting escalated from words to actions that the vintner stepped in.
"Ladies, please!" he urged, attempting to stop Jeannine from pulling Tiffany's hair and the running mate from scratching the candidate's wife's face with her artificial nails.
When Mitchell threw a punch at Jared, the vintner decided it was time for the group to leave.
"All right, folks," he announced, "time to go."
"What about the bill?" June asked. "Only one of the meals is paid for."
"Consider it on the house," he stated. "It's worth the cost to get rid of these people."
With the help of his employees, Garret escorted the unwanted guests out of the restaurant. Their efforts were rewarded with applause from the other diners. The vineyard's staff remained in the parking lot until the candidate's bus drove away, prepared to forcibly prevent any one of them from reentering the dining room.
"Good riddance!" the cook grumbled.
"Not that I would ever vote for him since I'm a democrat, but that ass may be our next president!" the stockboy said with a scowl.
"You think so?" Garret chuckled. "I guess you didn't see all the people capturing his deplorable behavior with their phones."
"No. I didn't. I was in the stockroom unpacking a case of pinot noir."
"When those people upload their videos to the internet, you can be sure they will go viral. Then we'll see how many votes Mr. Conlon will get in November."
When the three men reentered the restaurant, the cook headed for the kitchen, and the stockboy returned to his pinot noir. Garret joined his wife in the dining room.
"That was some floor show," one of the diners laughed after thanking the vintner for restoring the peace. "I can't imagine any candidate behaving that way in public. Was he drunk?"
"No. Oddly enough, not one of the four had much to drink. They each had one glass of wine and split a bottle of our vin de la maison."
"I guess some people can't hold their liquor."
"Well, you know what they say," June joked, sharing a knowing look with her husband, "In vino veritas, in wine there is truth."
And at Mystical Vines, the vin de la maison is sure to bring that truth to light.
There are very good wineries in the Pocono Mountains. My favorites are Blue Ridge Estate Vineyard, Mountain View Vineyard and Sorrenti Family Estate Winery (they have great pizza!).
When Salem visits Mystical Vines, he does so for the food, not the wine.
