Slow Dancing at Sunrise

by Jo McNally

  Whitney’s stomach soured. “What do you mean ‘clocked out’?”

  “She slept all the time, didn’t care what happened. Couldn’t make a decision. Wouldn’t accept any help.” Luke sighed, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words. “I did the best I could to keep things going. And she’s been getting better these past few months. She went to see a doctor and got some medication.” A smile played on his lips. “It’s like watching someone wake up out of a coma or something—the old Helen is coming back a little at a time.”

  Whitney pushed back at the guilt that rose up inside her. She should have called more often. She should have paid more attention when she did call. But should-haves were unproductive.

  Luke stopped her with a light touch to her arm before they reached the door to the tasting room. He pulled his fingers back, muttering what sounded like an apology under his breath. His eyes met hers.

  “I was inside the house last month when Helen had a problem with the washing machine. The door to Tony’s office was open. It looked pretty bad. How much trouble are we in?”

  Before she could decide how to respond, the door to the tasting room opened and an older couple came out, clutching two bags that obviously held wine bottles. They were smiling, and waved back into the shop.

  “Thanks, Helen! Tony would have been proud of this chardonnay! Great to see you!”

  The two nodded at Luke and Whitney, got into their sports car and drove off. At least they’d made one sale today. How could they possibly survive on that kind of income? What was their overhead? Were there financial liabilities or loans she wasn’t aware of? Did a P&L report exist anywhere? What was the expected ROI on those steel wine tanks? Did the asset value outweigh the expense? Had they even paid their taxes this year? Her heart ached at the thought of how bad things might be for Aunt Helen.

  The answers were somewhere in the massive pile of paperwork in the house. Whitney was going to have to play detective to figure it out. This might be her most challenging audit yet.

  “It’s a bit...disorganized. I’ve seen worse.” No, she hadn’t. “Believe me, I won’t have any problem getting things sorted out so I can see exactly what’s been going on here.” That was probably a lie, too.

  His expression hardened at her implication, but it couldn’t be helped. She had a job to do. She’d originally intended this summer to be a much-needed escape from the implosion of her career. It was an audit gone bad that led to her downfall. She came here to escape that. To spend time with her aunt and revisit some comforting childhood memories. A mindless break to help her recharge before she picked up the tattered remains of her professional reputation and started job hunting.

  Luke turned to walk away. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’re not. Tell Helen I’ll be back to close up. I don’t feel like pretending you and I are friends right now.”

  He stalked back toward the barn, his brown-and-white dog close by his heels. Things were turning out to be a lot more complicated here in Rendezvous Falls than she’d anticipated.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE ROAR OF the mower blades whirling was one of the sweetest sounds Luke had heard in a while. He’d hated the way the place looked last weekend, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was spending his own money on the mower parts, and he couldn’t afford to rush the shipment. The parts had finally come in, and went on this morning with barely a hitch. He rolled the mower off the makeshift repair ramp and shut it off.

  He wiped his brow, grimacing at the thick oil on his hands. Great—he was probably wearing it on his face now. He’d lain in the dirt for hours getting the mower fixed and the labyrinth of a belt reattached. Dark clouds scuttled over the hills. There might be time to grab a much-needed gallon of water and a quick bite of lunch before he started mowing. With any luck, he’d have it done before the rain arrived.

  Molly leaped to her feet and trotted along at his side. The red Australian shepherd was his constant shadow. He’d never had a dog—his folks couldn’t afford to feed the four kids they had, much less a pet. And after he came to Falls Legend with Tony and Helen, getting a dog never crossed his mind. He was busy. He lived in a tiny converted carriage house hayloft. And Tony and Helen always had cats.

  But when he’d walked into Matt Harrison’s basement three years ago to look at Matt’s home wine-making set-up, he’d discovered twelve bouncing balls of fluff. Actually, Aussie puppies were more like cubes than balls—as wide as they were long as they were tall, on stubby little legs, often with no tails. Molly was the first one he picked up, her auburn fur trimmed with tan and white on her face and feet. He set her down to check out the others. Every time he looked down, there was Molly, sitting quietly at his feet and staring up at him as if to say, “Why are you wasting your time with these other dogs?”

  Sure enough, he’d driven home that night with a brown fluff cube under his coat. Molly bumped his leg just then, as if she knew he was thinking about her. The dog was eerily psychic like that, and he’d accused her of being an omniscient alien life form more than once. She gave a short growl, the sort she gave as a heads-up that someone was coming and she hadn’t decided if they were friend or foe. Aussies were territorial as hell. The winery was her turf, and she had to approve all activities.

  A battered green pickup came up the driveway and continued past the house, up the hill and into the vineyard. Steve Jenkins waved as he drove by, but didn’t slow. They could no longer afford a full-time vineyard manager, so they used Steve on a part-time basis. He was responsible for the vines at three different wineries around Seneca Lake. The man was a grape savant, and they were lucky to have him.

  Luke followed the truck up the hill on foot, trotting between two rows of vines to catch up. Steve, stocky and heavily bearded, slid out of the truck.

  “Damn, boy, if I’d known you wanted to come up I’d have stopped for you.”

  “We both know that’s a lie.”

  Steve laughed. “Yeah, probably. What’s up?”

  “That’s what I was going to ask,” Luke responded. “How do things look? Should I start trimming off some of the leaves yet to let the sun get to the berries?”

  Steve squinted at the darkening sky. “We definitely want to do some canopy removal, but I’d hold off. We’re supposed to have a hot spell after this week. You don’t want to sunburn the grapes.” He looked down the head-high walls of green. “We might want to start trimming those overaggressive young shoots, though.”

  Luke nodded. Grape vines sometimes wanted to grow more vine than grapes. The summer months were a constant battle to maintain balance.

  Steve took out his ever-present pruning shears and clipped a few young shoots. “You guys skipped the Glens Falls festival, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Luke had hoped they could get to the popular summer event, but he was only one man and there was too much to do. “We’ll be at the Rendezvous Falls festival in September.”

  “Glad to hear it. How are things at the winery?” Steve asked. “Business picking up any?”

  Luke shrugged. “Not much. We gotta get the tours back and expand our hours before we see more sales, and we’re not ready. We need to get into some restaurants and liquor stores again, too.” He frowned down the hill at the dark green house with its conical tower. “All I need to do is figure out how to be five places at once.”

  Steve grunted. “I feel that way sometimes, too. One thing at a time, kid. You can only do one thing at a time.” Steve studied Luke for a minute and grinned. “Although you could take time to shower in between.”

  “Sorry, man. I finally got that old mower working today. I was heading in to clean up and eat when you came through.” Luke glanced up at the clouds. “But I think lunch’ll have to wait. If I don’t get the grass cleaned up around the front of the place we won’t have any customers at all.”

  Steve reached into the truck and tos
sed Luke a power bar. “Here. Linda makes me keep them on hand in case my blood sugar gets low.”

  Luke studied the brightly wrapped meal-in-a-bar. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’ve got plenty. I’m going to check out the pinot gris grapes farther up the hill.” Distant thunder rumbled overhead. “It’s supposed to rain heavy the next couple days. Good thing you and Tony invested in that underground drainage system.” The two of them had spent months laying the black flexible piping under the vines ten years ago, but it was worth it. Water was much less likely to run down the surface of the soil now, washing away valuable nutrients and exposing fragile roots.

  “Whoa. Who’s that?”

  Luke followed Steve’s gaze. Whitney was walking up the far edge of the vineyard, toward the path to the falls. It was a twenty-minute hike from here, with rain moving in. He’d bet money that girl was gonna get wet. He still hadn’t answered Steve’s question.

  “Helen’s niece. She’s visiting from Chicago for a while.”

  Steve gave Luke a wink. “She’s a looker.”

  Whitney moved up the hill with long, smooth strides, wearing dark shorts and some sort of fluttery pink top. Even from here, he could see her legs were shapely and strong. He’d assumed a city girl like Whitney would be soft, but he may have misjudged her, at least as far as fitness went.

  “She’s not bad,” Luke replied. Steve chuckled and turned back to his truck.

  “Not bad, huh? You’re either lying or you need your eyes checked.”

  “She’s from the city.” Luke said it as if it was explanation enough, but Steve just laughed again and drove on up the hill. Luke watched Whitney until she disappeared into the trees, following the path leading to the top of the waterfall that gave the town its name. He could follow her, and warn her there was weather moving in.

  But she wasn’t his problem, and he had work to do. He turned away and headed back to the mower, hoping to get as much grass cut as possible before the rain hit.

  * * *

  WHITNEY STOPPED ALONG the wooded path to inhale the rich scent of summer and lush growth. She’d spent much of her time this week inside the dusty, cluttered farmhouse with Helen and the nosy cat who insisted on knocking over every pile of paper she’d organized. This morning she’d pushed it all aside and walked out with a quick wave to her aunt in the kitchen. That bright yellow kitchen was one of the few rooms downstairs that wasn’t cluttered with junk. It was spacious and bright, with lots of natural light from several windows.

  Helen had called out something about the weather, but Whitney didn’t even slow down. She had to escape. Yes, it was overcast, but that just meant she didn’t need sunglasses. Before she realized it, she was headed up the hill toward the waterfall.

  She hadn’t walked to the falls in years. The last time had been shortly after she graduated college and came to visit for a long weekend. She and Uncle Tony had followed the trail to the top of Rendezvous Falls—the actual falls, not the town—and they’d sat up there and talked about her plans to take the accounting world by storm. Tony had been supportive, but cautionary.

  “Careful, Whitney-girl. There’s more to life than numbers. You’re good at numbers, but don’t forget to be good at other things, too.”

  At the time, it had been sweet advice from a beloved old man. Of course, back then she’d known so much better than Tony what she’d needed. But now? She continued walking. Now she wondered if Uncle Tony hadn’t been on to something. All those years she’d spent chasing numbers and playing the corporate game at KTM, and what did it get her? A fancy title and nice bonuses, sure. But all of that had vanished when she got thrown under a career-killing bus.

  The sound of the waterfall through the trees made her smile. How many times had Tony told her the legend through the years? The great Iroquois Confederacy of Native American tribes had existed peacefully for generations in upstate New York, with vast orchards and storehouses of furs. But the tribes were torn apart during the American Revolution, when some sided with the British, and some with the Colonists. The legend told of two star-crossed lovers from now-warring tribes, who met at the falls to declare their undying love for each other. An Iroquois goddess saw their tears and turned them into a stag and doe so they could run away and be together forever. Tony told her their song could still be heard in the water that tumbled over the granite cliff.

  A few more minutes of walking and she was there, at the top of the falls. A steep trail went down alongside the water to the small pool where the water gathered before going down the hill toward the lake. In the pool of water was a large boulder, smoothed by centuries of rushing water. Legend had it that any couple who stood on that rock and declared their love would be together forever. Hopefully without turning into deer.

  There was a smooth wide path approaching the falls from the opposite side. That was the walking path from the small public parking area below. The falls were preserved as a county park these days, but Whitney figured there wouldn’t be many visitors on a Thursday in July, and she was right. She sat on a rock—not the rock—and tried to let the sound of the tumbling water wash her mind clean.

  There were no stacks of years-old paperwork here in the secluded hollow. No piles of unopened bills and bank statements. No dusty clutter that invaded Whitney’s dreams at night, in between nightmares of what her future might look like if she didn’t get back out there and find a job.

  She was tired. Instead of spending time reconnecting with Helen and soaking up some of her homespun wisdom and comfort, Rendezvous Falls was turning into a steaming pile of accounting dung she was going to have to dig her way out of.

  Great decision to come back here, Whitney.

  She leaned back, propping herself on her elbows, and did her best to refocus on the sound of the water.

  Come on, mind—cleanse yourself, damn it!

  Probably not the most Zen approach to relaxing. KTM had offered stress management classes a few years ago, and Whitney tried to remember what the instructor had said. She’d only attended to look like a team player and support the corporate program, as a good little future partner should. At the time, the idea of reducing stress seemed ludicrous. Stress was what made a person an intense competitor. Stress kept a person sharp. Focused. On point. Relaxation was for losers and retirees, not for people like Whitney.

  She wasn’t going places anymore, though, was she? The instructor had talked about taking art classes, or picking up a new hobby unrelated to numbers and accounting. Whitney suspected playing sudoku, as she used to do on the train, would not have been an approved hobby in the instructor’s eyes. Maybe she could learn more about wine making.

  No. That would require more time with Luke Rutledge, which would do nothing to reduce her stress levels. They hadn’t spoken since Saturday, but she’d seen him working around the winery through the dining room bay window. Walking with that easy, laid-back stride that made him look both confident and entirely unconcerned if anyone thought he looked confident or not. His dark hair always looked as though someone had just run their fingers through it in an elevator on the way to a penthouse somewhere.

  Wait. What? That was a disturbingly specific image, and it had no business in Whitney’s head. Sure, Luke was good-looking, but not in a penthouse suite sort of way. More like a walk-on-the-wild-side sort of way, which was a path Whitney carefully avoided. The few relationships she’d managed to squeeze into her busy schedule had been safe. And boring. Who had time for drama and...passion? That stuff never lasted. It certainly never had for her mother, and Whitney never wanted to live like that.

  Besides, she still suspected Luke was taking advantage of Aunt Helen, even if she hadn’t figured out how yet. Despite his denial, Helen said she’d given him free rent. It didn’t add up. She didn’t like it when things didn’t add up.

  A bird sang nearby, and Whitney opened her eyes. She was surprised to realize she had rela
xed a little, even with all that thinking about drama and passion and...Luke. Her neck and shoulders moved more easily as she rolled her head, and her chest was no longer constricted. She took a deep breath. Rendezvous Falls had worked its magic. Above the falls, though, the overcast sky was growing darker. She should get back to the house before she got caught in a downpour, which would not be relaxing at all.

  Whitney stood and brushed dirt from her backside with a grimace. Helen’s house was so damn hot to work in during this week’s heat wave, and this outfit was about as close to warm-weather-casual as Whitney got. She’d bought the pink silk top in the cruise-wear section of an upscale Chicago boutique last year, but never took time off for a cruise.

  Her aunt explained she was conserving energy by not turning the air-conditioning on, insisting the “valley breeze” kept the house cool enough. Whitney had a feeling Helen was more worried that she couldn’t afford it. So Whitney put on her pretty cruise wear and dealt with it. Maybe it was time to go shopping for something more practical.

  She heard a rumble of thunder as she climbed the path back to the summit of the falls. She picked up her pace when she got to the trail heading back to the vineyard. Getting caught in a rain shower was one thing. Being caught on this hill dodging lightning bolts was entirely another.

  A few more rumbles and she’d started jogging, thankful it had been only a few weeks since her last visit to a gym. But running on a treadmill was not the same as jogging a rutted path in canvas flats. She caught her toe on a tree root and landed hard on her knees and hands, air whooshing out of her lungs. She scrambled back up and checked for damage. A little broken skin on one palm and one knee. Nothing to worry about.

  The wind now whipping through the treetops? The steady, nonstop roar of approaching thunder? The swishy sound of what was definitely approaching rain moving through the trees? That was enough to make her worry. Maybe she should have listened to whatever it was Helen was trying to tell her before she’d bolted out of the house.