The Vineyard (33 page)

No one spoke, and Olivia and Tess were gone before he could think of anything suitable to say. Walking back through the woods, though, he realized he felt satisfied.

He also felt horny as hell by the time he was in bed, but still he was satisfied.

Nineteen
 

S
USANNE HEARD THE PHONE RING
while she was turning the key in the lock. Thinking she could use an interesting call, she hurriedly opened the door and disengaged the alarm. She dropped her things on the chair and caught up the receiver just before the call went to voice mail.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Susanne. It's Simon.”

Well, it wasn't quite the want-to-have-lunch-at-Palio call she was hoping for, but it might yet be interesting. “Simon. My stepbrother-to-be. How are you?”

“Not bad. How about you?”

“Great. Couldn't be better. Hey, I haven't seen you since our parents broke the news. So, what do you think?”

“I think it's pretty nice.”

Of course, he would. His father was marrying up. That enhanced his own standing, not to mention his job security.

But she was being unfair. Of her brother's childhood friends, she had always like Simon the best. He had been loyal to Greg—and loyal to her parents, too, if the hours he poured into the vineyard counted. She owed him the benefit of the doubt.

“Were you surprised?” she asked. “Or did you see it coming?” He should have. He was at Asquonset on a daily basis. He would have noticed a change in Natalie and Carl—would have seen little looks exchanged, hands held, kisses blown. He would have been taken into their confidence.

“No, I honestly didn't see it coming. But then, I wasn't looking for it. I've been a little preoccupied for the past few years.”

Susanne was instantly contrite. More gently, she said, “I understand.” Regardless of what role Simon may or may not have played in the joining of their families—whether innocent or not so—what he had suffered with his own family was tragic.

“Natalie and Carl seem happy,” he said now. “That's what counts.”

“Does that mean
you
aren't happy about it?” She hadn't considered that possibility. What was there not to like, from his point of view?

“I'm perfectly happy. I've always thought the world of Natalie.”

“And she of you,” Susanne said, envious of that. “She always wanted one of the family to take over the vineyard. Now she'll have her wish.”

Simon was the voice of reason. “No. Her wish is for you or Greg to take over. She still wants that. Besides, I'm not taking over anything. I've been vineyard manager for six years. That won't change.”

“Not now. Down the road, well, that's something else.” It had to be said. It was what she believed.

Simon paused. His voice held caution. “I don't need that, Susanne.”

“What? Owning Asquonset? Or my mention of it?”

“Either,” he said with more feeling. “I'm working my butt off trying to get a good vintage, and the weather isn't cooperating. I don't have time to be making this phone call.”

And she didn't particularly care to be
taking
it. “Then why are you?”

“Because Natalie needs you. She has a lot on her plate. I thought you should know that.”

“Ah. You want me there.” Mark thought she should be there, too. Her kids thought so, as well.

“I think it would be nice if someone from the family gave her a hand.”

“But she has a new assistant,” Susanne said sweetly. “Can't she help?”

“She does. But Natalie could use you.”

“Like I have nothing else to do with my life?” It always came down to that.

Simon sighed. “I know you have things to do, but how can you worry about my taking over the vineyard when you and Greg won't come near it?”

“Have you called him? Have you told him he ought to be there?”

“No. I didn't think he'd appreciate that.”

She bristled. “Because he works, while I sit around doing nothing? Is that what you think? I have things to do, Simon. I have
more
than enough to keep me busy. My mother has always done her own thing. She certainly didn't consult me before she decided to remarry. What could she possibly need me for now? And if she needs me, why can't she pick up the phone and tell me?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's not in her to ask for help. She's always just done for herself.”

“Exactly. Natalie first.”

“That wasn't what I meant, Susanne. I meant that she would rather do something herself than ask for help.”

“So now you know her better than I do? That's
very
interesting, Simon. It's very
presumptuous
. Tell me, what
business
is all this of yours?”

There was a long pause before Simon spoke, his voice quiet. “None. You're right. It's not my business. She's your mother, not mine. Mine's dead. That must be clouding my vision. I miss her. If I could get her back, you can be damned sure I'd be doing everything I could to make her golden years easier.”

T
ROTTING DOWN THE STAIRS
from his office, Simon was furious. He didn't understand why people who had so much had to go and throw it away. He and Olivia were of like mind in that. Asquonset was the most beautiful place he had ever seen, and he had traveled some. There had been a time in his life—a brief period when he was in college and felt like a hick—when he had considered working elsewhere. Nothing he had seen in the search had come close to Asquonset, though, either in physical beauty or viticultural philosophy.

Not that he wanted Susanne or Greg around if they were going to treat his father and him like gold diggers. He wasn't after money. Money had its limits. It sure as hell couldn't bring back the dead.

In the supply room on the ground floor, he grabbed tools, a coil of wire, and work gloves. The top trellis needed repair on one of the Chenin Blanc rows. The leaves had already reached it. They had been hedged once and needed a second round. First, though, he needed to put up new wire. It was good, mindless work.

He had the gloves on and was using pliers to free the old wire from the one pin that still held it when he spotted Tess.

Last night was one thing. Today was another. As sure as those spots on some of the grapes spelled trouble, he wasn't in the mood for a child.

Naturally, because he didn't want it, she approached, but she seemed more cautious than ornery. “Where's Buck?”

“Back at the house,” he said and went on with his work. “She's staying pretty close to the kittens.”

“Did she have any more after I left?”

“No. There are five in all.”

“What are you doing?”

“Repairing the trellis.”

“What does the trellis do?”

“It holds up the vines.” That was the simplest answer. In an effort to be kinder than last time, he added, “It directs the vines vertically rather than horizontally. I want the vines to grow high, not wide.”

“Why?”

“Because if they grow wide, they'll cover the grapes, which means that the grapes don't get sun or breeze. If they don't get sun, they don't ripen. If they don't get breeze, they don't dry out, and if they don't dry out, they get rot.”

“Rrrrot,” Tess echoed, seeming to like the sound of the word.

Simon did not. “It's also known as fungus, or mold. It's bad stuff.” He glanced at his watch. She looked like she might just stand there awhile. He didn't have time to humor her. “Don't you have tutoring in the mornings?”

“Mrs. Adelson is sick. Can I go see Buck?”

“Not now. I have to work.”

“That's all right. You can work while I go see Buck.”

“But I don't have time to drive you there.”

“I'll walk. Just tell me where the path starts.”

“Where's your mother?”

“In the loft, but I don't have to ask her, if you say it's okay.”

He looked her over. She was neat and clean, but then, the day was young. “Did she tell you not to?”

“She told me not to get in the way.” Her face gentled. Either she momentarily forgot to be belligerent or she was being manipulative. In any case, she was convincing. “If you're here and I'm there, I'm not in the way. Do you really think Buck should be alone all day? He knows me. He likes me. I think he'd like to show off his babies. Besides, I want to see the kittens so I can tell everyone in my sailing class about it.”

Ah. A bid for friends. “You have to smile.”

“What?”

“You have to
smile
when you tell the people in your sailing class about the kittens. That lets them know you're genuinely excited and not just trying to one-up them.”

“Well, I'll bet
they
don't have kittens.”

“Neither do you,” he said and regretted it when her face dropped. “You do,” he relented and pulled off the gloves. “You were the first one who noticed how fat Buck was. Come on. I'll show you the path. But you have to stay on it. If you don't, you may get lost. There's bear in these woods.”

“There is not,” she scolded in a way that said she knew he was kidding. “There's mink and raccoon and deer and pheasant, but they're more afraid of me than I am of them.” She jogged to keep up with him. “Aren't they?”

“Definitely. Okay. There it is. See the path beside the old maple tree?”

“I see.” She ran toward it.

“Wait,” he called. “What am I supposed to say if your mother comes looking for you?”

She turned, running backward now. “Tell her you invited me. You just did, y'know.”

He could have argued about that, but let it go. “What time do you have to be back?”

“Sailing's at two.”

“And what are you going to do when you tell the kids about the kittens?”

She bared her teeth in a spastic rendition of a smile, then turned and ran off.

S
USANNE SPENT AN HOUR
wallowing under the burden of guilt for ruining her mother's golden years before she picked up the phone and called Greg at work.

“Bad time,” he told her, but she wasn't being put off. Her time was as valuable as his. Her peace of mind was as valuable as his. Besides, for Greg, any time was a bad time.

“I just got a call from Simon,” she said. “He claims that Mother needs help. Do you know anything about this?”

“What kind of help?”

“I don't know. All he said was that she could use a hand.”

“She has a hand. Jill's there.”

“Oh. I didn't know. Well, that's good. But why would Simon call me, then?”

“Listen, I have a meeting in twenty minutes and fifty pages of data to review beforehand.”

“Are you joining Jill there?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Maybe one of us should go. You know, see for ourselves what's happening.”

“You go. You have more time than me.”

“But your wife is there. That gives you a good excuse to go.”

“Why do you need an excuse? Just say that you're worried.”

“You're the one who's worried,” she argued. “You're the one who thinks the Burkes want the vineyard. You could talk with Carl if you went.”

“Susanne, I don't have time for this.”

“Neither do I,” she cried, “and what if something happens? You're the man. You're attuned to business. You'll see right away if something's up.”

“Susanne, my meeting is in … eighteen minutes.”

“Oh, please,” she said. She was tired of feeling insignificant. “Is your work more important than family? I'm asking for your help in this, Greg.”

“I am
not
going to
Asquonset,”
he said with sudden force. “If Jill wants to talk, she knows where I am!”

Susanne was taken aback. She spoke more quietly. “Are you two having trouble?”

He grunted. “Nothing that a little time and space won't take care of. Look, Susanne, forget I mentioned it. I'm tired and I'm stressed. Jill wanted to visit Asquonset, and I couldn't get away. Give her a call. Ask what she sees. If that doesn't satisfy you, go on up there yourself. But I can't. Not now. I just can't.”

Twenty