Viktor’s Story is the prequel to my Family Portrait series. This story is written in short form where chapters are episodes.

Viktor Banovic took a sip of wine as he looked out at the vast expanse of land that he had worked so hard to own. One hundred and eighty acres of undulating rows of the best biodynamic wines grown in the country. Okay, second best.

House of Banovic had yet to secure a first-place win in the prestigious Decanter World Wine competition. For the past 10 years they came in second to Morelle Winery. Of all the awards that lined the walls of the tasting room, and trinkets and trophies that sparkled in glass cases, DWWA was the one he wanted the most. Viktor hated coming in second in anything.

His latest creation tasted like heaven in a glass, sweet and soft with notes of rose petal, peach, and pineapple. Adriana Blush was sure to bring home first prize in next year’s competition. Named after his granddaughter, Viktor was proud of his latest addition to the House of Banovic label.

From the outside, Viktor had it all; houses, a yacht, a successful winery in Mendocino. He had traveled the world, met with world leaders and his wine was served to Royalty and the elites. None of that mattered as Viktor stood looking out through the bay window of his office. He wished his sons would have had an interest in the business then things would have been much different…. He would not have to take his secrets to his grave.

By the time he took his final sip of wine, the glass felt heavy in his hand, a sharp pain pierced the left side of his chest, the glass slipped out of his hand and shattered as it hit the stone floor. Viktor tumbled to the floor landing on the shards of glass, he felt nothing as his body went numb and his eyes closed for the last time.

This is Viktor’s story.

Ten-year-old Viktor Banovic was no stranger to hard work. He started work on his family’s farm next to his father, Jake, and his brother Whiskey at 4am every day. Life was hard, especially when a natural disaster struck, and they lost the crops for that year. Unfortunately, those lean years happened more frequently than anyone would have liked.

Too often when it came down to paying for electricity or putting food on the table, Eleanor Banovic chose to feed her family. Her elementary school teacher’s salary could only go so far.

Most of the people that lived in their town had small family farms. There was not much to do in the sleepy town that God forgot. The main drag was the town square which boasted a general store that sold everything from chewing gum to refrigerators. A mom-and-pop diner called Roosters, The Watering Hole—the town’s aptly named local bar, a clinic, a drive-in cinema, townhall, fire station, Sherriff’s office, and a newly opened dress shop. Just off Main Street was the elementary and high school. The beauty of the town was that there was no shortage of greenery. Open spaces provided more than enough space for gatherings and weekend farmer’s markets. Outsiders on their way to prettier towns seldom stopped to support the locals, and the money in this town, stayed in this town, everything felt stagnant.

As the lack of resources on the Banovic farm grew, the relationship between Eleanor and Jake began to deteriorate. Arguments got more heated and sometimes physical. With no crops to attend to, Jake spent most of his time at The Watering Hole in which he ran up a hefty tab. Jake was a smooth talker and could convince anyone to do anything he wanted. He convinced Lenny, the bar owner, that he was good for it. Lenny knew that Jake was struggling, he had seen it before, but he always bounced back. Everyone in the town had seen their share of hardship at some point but eventually things got better.

Jake eyed the waitress behind the bar as she slid him another glass of Bourbon.

“Dad.” Whiskey stood behind his father.

Jake turned to face his son whose height matched his.

“What?”

“Mom sent me to get you.”

“Why? Is she dying?” Jake mocked.

“No. But…”

“Go home, Whiskey.”

“Dad. Please?”

Patrons sitting close by looked on and Whiskey prayed that his father would not make a scene. His parents had already caused a scene outside Roosters that kept the town gossip mill turning for weeks.

“I’ll be home when I’m done.” Jake dismissed and Whiskey left.

“Your boy is growing up real fast, how old is he now?” Lenny stood all of 6 feet behind the bar.

“Thirteen-or-something.”

“I remember when he was yay high” He flattened his palm towards the ground.

Jake twirled the brown liquid in the glass before taking a sip.

“Why’d you name him Whiskey anyway?” Lenny asked.

“Used to be my drink of choice. Would have named the little one Bourbon but the wife wouldn’t have it.” He joked and they all laughed.

The story continues on Kindle Vella.