Wedding Guest - George West

“You strike me as a worthy opponent, Scott.”

 “I never turn down a spirited competition.”

“Young man, life is a kind of chess, with struggle, competition, good and ill events.” 

“An interesting choice of words, Mr. West. I agree.”

“To damn with that Boston Brahmins conformity. Call me George.”

********

Arriving in California, George West saw his future fortunes not in striking gold, but in growing grapes. By 1852, he’d shipped in cuttings of some 40 foreign varieties on a steamer, sourced from a nursery in Boston. The following year his first vines were planted on a 63-acre ranch at the north end of Stockton. Calling the vineyard El Pinal, George West began building his legacy in the rich soil of the San Joaquin Valley.

Uncle Harlan… Scott… I want to invest in a vineyard to establish a winery which will produce some of the finest California wines that even Boston will serve. I want this winery to be part of the Garrett legacy.

Upon Kinsey’s proclamation that day as she held court in a Beacon Hill dining room with two stubborn men, Scott began working on helping his little cousin achieve her dream. The starting point in gathering information had been obvious. West’s success and prosperity inspired newspapers to coin him Father of the Lodi for his contribution to California’s agricultural economy. Scott’s letter to the man, intended to be merely an introduction expressing interest in viticulture investment, unexpectedly awarded the two cousins an invitation to visit El Pinal.

However, like the Bull Thistle’s purple flower giving the illusion of a harmless plant, the man’s hospitality and advice cloaked his intentions to dominate the industry by gobbling up smaller vineyards unable to compete. With Scott and Kinsey as investors, Seth’s family vineyard held on to its land while rescuing others from bankruptcy, temporarily thwarting an invasive monopoly… much to the noxious weed’s dismay.

********

The best man’s pocket watch confirmed it was time to locate Groom Westcott. 

“Hello, Scott.”

Strides in a search for Seth abruptly halted to execute an about face. “Mr. West.” A brisk nod of acknowledgment replaced a welcoming handshake. “I see your lost invitation finally arrived.”

“You mean my invitation that was never intended to be offered.”

Scott’s silent smirk spoke to the accuracy of the man’s statement. “Your enthusiastic commitment to be included on the guest list lassoed the bride’s attention.”

Blame John Creswell for the lost invitation. Grant never should’ve appointed that buffoon as postmaster general. Mail service has been squatting in the outhouse ever since.

Those words hadn’t tumbled out of West’s opinionated mouth but that of his friend, Leland Stanford, when the postal faux pas reached his ears. Scott had taught his cousin the strategy of picking battles and taking the high ground. A diplomatic decision was made. The wedding list gained an additional guest.

“Ah, the darling Kinsey. I only wished to spare her the political embarrassment of overlooking El Pinal’s proprietor as an attendee on her wedding day. It would not have fared well in the press.”

“Sir, your confidence in what makes a good political editorial could use some fine tuning.” 

West’s gaze drifted over the cultivated vines of his surroundings. Unlike Jane Stanford’s visual journey reflecting admiration, his eyes glinted with hardened envy. “This year’s harvest provided an adequate profit.”

“I heard. Congratulations. You should be rather pleased El Pinal could stay afloat.”

“Dammit.” The gent’s jaw tightened in step with Scott’s spreading smile. “I was referring to the Westcott vineyards.”

“Geooooooorge!” Seth’s well-timed arrival brought along his customary elongated presentation of his adversary first name. “I see today fit into your busy schedule of exploitation. Very good. The missus couldn’t attend?”

“Margaret is a bit under the weather. She sends her regrets.”

Scott cocked a brow. Odds were Kinsey’s invitation once again got lost after its delivery to El Pinal. 

With his wife’s health receiving a half-hearted honorable mention, West zeroed in on more important matters. “Exploitation? Young man, your ignorance knows no bounds. There are very influential gentlemen in Sacramento who define it as reforming industrialization.”

“And what do these influential gentlemen call your out-of-work men who struggle to feed their families?” Scott clasped hands behind his back while seeking the proper phrase written on the horizon. “Quarries of Evolution, perhaps.”

“Ah, you’re referring to the immigrants I let go due to El Pinal's steam-powered press.” West donned the persona of a saddened advocate for the down-trodden. “What can I say? Unfortunately, there will always be casualties along the path of progress.” Arms stretched out to gather in a reasonable conclusion. “I’m sure the employer hatchet was used here with your own modernization.”

“Hell, no!” Seth grinned. “In fact, we hired those poor souls from El Pinal who showed up on our doorstep. We welcomed the extra hands to process our harvest and the sign-on vineyards’.” Pondering took hold. “Tell me, business partner, what should we call that? Saying good business practice is too damn common for my aristocratic savor.”

“Well, let’s see…. call it… ” Fingers snapped with an enlightenment. “Integrity.” 

“Integrity. Excellent. Settled.” Seth rubbed his hands together. “My wedding can now proceed.”

“However, I fear saying the word may leave a bad taste in those influential mouths. What’s your thoughts on the matter, Mr. West? Does a man’s integrity still have a seat at the table in Sacramento?"

“Someday your witticisms will cease to be clever, gentlemen.” West tugged at the bottom of his vest straining over a rounded midsection. “When that time comes I plan to take credit for it.” 

“A lofty goal, sir.”

“A goal all the same. Now, if you'll excuse me, I wish to find a more pleasing conversationalist.” 

“Don’t you mean profitable?” Scott continued to poke the bee’s nest. It couldn’t be helped.

Red-faced, the proprietor of El Pinal turned and walked away.

“Oh now, Geoooorge. Was it something we said?” Seth’s frown fell short on conviction.

“I do believe we’ve ruined that man’s day.”

Scott slowly exhaled. That man is seeking out Leland Stanford - unaware the gent will be gifting Westcott Vineyards unlimited free transport east. “Ruined, indeed. So, let’s be damn certain he doesn’t ruin yours.” Scott’s palm landed on his friend’s shoulder. “Time to get hitched, business partner.”