by Jo McNally
CHAPTER TWENTY
LUKE HAMMERED THE last piece of clapboard onto the front of the carriage house. The limestone pillars had been pressure washed. New rocking chairs were up in the barn, waiting to be set in place. Things were looking pretty good. He slid the hammer into the loop on his cargo shorts and started down the ladder.
A burst of female laughter came from inside the tasting room. Helen insisted this “Wednesday work party” would be a way to get some projects done before the festival. But Luke was wondering how much actual work would get done today. It sounded more like a social event, and that was okay, too. It had been too long since Helen had been surrounded with this kind of laughter.
The book club was repainting the tasting room, because Whitney had decreed the room too dark. It was an awfully big job, but he couldn’t argue about the color. Tony had been gung ho for the Italian theme when the winery opened, but the dark green walls made the space feel small.
“Trying to avoid the hen party in there?”
Luke looked down from the ladder to see Rick Thomas. He didn’t know the man well, other than knowing he was a professor at the college and a member of Helen’s book club.
“Hi, Rick. Looks like you’re avoiding them, too.”
“I’m not exactly gifted with a paint brush. I’m much better with a hammer or rake, like you.” Rick glanced up toward the off-kilter gate in front of Helen’s still-messy garden.
Luke grimaced as he stepped off the ladder. “I wouldn’t want to be the one caught messing with Helen’s roses.”
Rick clapped him on the back. It was an odd move for someone he barely knew. Usually the guy just nodded abruptly in his direction and quickly moved on. A lot of people in Rendezvous Falls did that. Treated him like someone who had to be tolerated. And now Rick was squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “You won’t be the one caught. I will. And I can handle Helen—we go way back.”
Luke didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Rick started laughing. “I know—you go way back, too. But you were working with Tony most of the time. Helen and I became good friends almost as soon as I got to Rendezvous Falls twenty years ago. In fact...” Rick’s laughter faded to a fond smile. “We became such good friends, Tony came to my office one morning to have a chat about how much time I was spending with his wife. I hadn’t outed myself to many people in town at that point, but I came rainbow-flag clean to Tony as soon as I saw the look in his eye and the set of his jaw.”
“I’ll bet.”
Tony hadn’t been a big man, but he was tough as nails. He probably could have beaten the tar out of most men. Especially if he considered them a threat to his marriage. But why was Rick sharing all of this now? Awkward silence settled between them, until Rick nodded toward the main house.
“I’ll go tackle that garden, which is criminally neglected. I gave her most of those rose bushes, you know.” Luke didn’t know that. Rick studied him for a moment before continuing. “Look...of all people, I shouldn’t be one to listen to gossip. But I did, for a lot of years. I made assumptions about you, because your family is...um...notorious around here.”
Luke wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but any talk that involved his family was one he’d rather avoid.
“Yup. Sorry, but I have a lot of work...”
“My point is...” Rick moved to stay in front of Luke. “I owe you an apology. You took care of Helen after Tony died.” Another burst of laughter came from the tasting room. “You stepped up long before any of us realized how bad things were. And I want you to know how grateful we all are. If you ever need anything, or if Helen needs anything...” Rick dug in his pocket and pulled out a business card. “You call me.”
“Okay.” Luke took the card, thrown off balance by Rick’s unexpected apology and gratitude. He didn’t have a lot of practice responding to either.
Rick chuckled. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
“I... No, not really. But...” It was weird to be accepting an apology for something he hadn’t even known had happened. For opinions half the town still had because of his name. He shook Rick’s hand. “Thank you.”
“No worries. I’ll have that garden spiffed up in no time to look good for your customers.” Luke once again had nothing to say. He watched Rick walk to the garden after pulling some tools from the trunk of his Lexus.
The door to the tasting room opened behind him. “Hey, hot shot, you going to stand around all day or are you going to get some work done?”
Whitney stepped up beside him. He dropped his arm on her shoulder, but didn’t pull her closer. Things hadn’t been the same since their conversation by the falls. Whitney had been trying hard to get him past it with an extra sunny attitude and constant affection. He looked down into her hopeful eyes. She was trying too hard.
They were going to have to work this out sooner or later. But right now, rejecting that smile would feel like he was kicking a puppy. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.
“Hey, yourself. Aren’t you supposed to be painting?”
She laughed—it sounded forced—and held up her arm so he could see the streak of bright blue paint on her skin. “I’ve learned I’m not the world’s best painter. Good thing you made us put all that plastic on the floor before we got started.”
Luke wanted to take that arm and kiss the tender skin there, working his way up from where her pulse beat at her wrist, past the blue forearm to her shoulder to her neck... But that would be a bad idea. That would lead to him taking her upstairs, and he couldn’t do that. Not as long as there was a chance she still saw him as some loser to feel sorry for.
Whitney went up on tiptoe and kissed him, her lips soft and warm against his. He knew she was begging forgiveness. The thing was, he’d already forgiven her. He just couldn’t forget. He tried not to respond to her kiss, but...who was he kidding? She was irresistible. His hand cupped her face and he kissed her back. Sweet, sweet Whitney. She had his heart right there in her hands, and she was probably going to crush it, but he couldn’t save himself.
Molly woofed a happy greeting and came over to Whitney, bringing Luke to his senses. It was broad daylight and there was a work party going on. Sure enough, when he broke away and looked over her shoulder, several faces were pressed to the tasting room window, grinning widely. They scattered when they realized they’d been caught.
Whitney brushed her lips on his neck. “Please don’t pull away. We...we have to figure this out. I’m sorry...”
He somehow found the strength to set her away from him.
“Whit, it’s the middle of the damn day.” His frustration with himself boiled over into his tone, and she recoiled a little. “I mean, we have work to do, and an audience.” He looked up at the house, where Rick quickly turned away to start raking again. Her smile returned.
“Duly noted. Sorry.” She said that word twenty times a day now, and it was getting on his nerves. Words didn’t mean anything. Actions did. And when she’d had the chance to believe in him, she’d doubted instead. To her credit, she’d pictured him as some modern-day Robin Hood, but she still thought he took the money.
It probably had looked pretty bad, especially to an accountant. She was obviously sorry, but that didn’t change what happened. He wanted her, but he couldn’t help holding himself back, protecting himself. He rubbed his thumb on the dried paint on her arm.
“Is that the color you’re painting the tasting room?”
She chuckled. “That’s a highlight color for some of the trim. We want to keep the colorful spirit of the Rendezvous Falls Victorian houses in there, so there’s blue, green and orange trim. Most of the room will be a silvery blue, though. Lena said it will look like the lake in the morning.” Whitney shrugged. “She’s the artist. Once we get the new wine labels, brochures and signage, it will all come together. A new look for Falls Legend.”
“You’re
going to have all of that done by the festival? You know it’s less than two weeks away, right?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling at the challenge. She was back in her element now, feeling more confident. She was in charge. “It’ll be tight, but we’ll make it. Everything’s on a hot rush, but we should have the new wine labels this Friday. They’re extra thick, so they’ll go right over the top of the labels we have. The signs should be here next week. A new road sign and new signs for inside.” Her hands gestured as she warmed up to the subject. “And I ordered a statue for the float no one will ever forget!”
“You bought a statue?” Luke was picturing some marble monstrosity of the Greek god of wine or something.
“Well, not a statue statue, and I didn’t buy it. There’s a film supply warehouse that rents out props, and they had life-sized deer statues...figurines...whatever. I think they’re fiberglass.”
“They?”
“One of each—a male and a female. I ordered this water pump thing that will recreate the waterfall on the float, and then the two life-sized deer standing there. Get it? The legend? Falls Legend? I’ve hired Evie’s brother to build the platform and frame for the float. It’ll be the best one in the parade. Helen said there’s a contest and I know we’ll win—and most important, everyone will be talking about it. And if everyone’s talking about the float, then everyone’s talking about the winery!”
Luke couldn’t stop the proud smile tugging at his mouth. This was the woman who’d captured his heart. Bright-eyed, confident and strong. Her plan sounded a little over-the-top, but she was right. Everyone would be talking. Which meant he had to get busy.
“Sounds ambitious. You and I both need to get back to work if we’re going to have this place crawling with people in a few weeks.” As much as he wanted to protect his heart, he tugged her in and gave her a quick kiss, because he couldn’t not kiss her right now. “You’re just the one who can pull it off, Whit.”
* * *
“THOSE ARE NOT DEER.”
Whitney blurted out the obvious, because no other words came to mind that she’d be willing to say in front of her aunt. They both stared into the back of the delivery truck.
“Is that...” Helen shook her head, as if doing so would change what they were looking at. “Is that...a moose?”
You’re just the one who can pull it off, Whit.
Luke’s vote of confidence, even after the rough patch they’d hit, had made Whitney’s heart glow last week. Last week had been a wonderful time. Last week was before every damn thing had gone wrong.
“There’s been a mistake.” Whitney hoped the truck driver would tell her he opened the wrong crate and her two beautiful deer were right behind this massive moose.
He looked at his manifest and checked the packing slip. “Sorry, ma’am, but this guy is all yours. And his lady friend on the other pallet. The model numbers match up. I’m sorry, but...”
She knew she looked horrified. Holy good lord, she was horrified! When he’d pulled a square of cardboard away to verify it was what she’d expected, Whitney had actually screamed. A life-sized moose may be majestic, but it was not exactly...pretty. And definitely not romantic, unless you were a female moose. His antlers were missing—the driver explained they were boxed separately and had a six-foot span. Great. His head was enormous, and fake greenery hung from his mouth at the bottom of his bulbous nose, as if he’d just lifted his head from some swamp.
“I can’t use a moose. I can’t use two mooses. Two moose. Whatever. He’s bigger than the entire float!” Of course, the float didn’t exist anyway, because Evie’s brother broke his arm riding his dirt bike two days earlier.
Helen patted Whitney’s arm. “Well, you wanted to get people talking. This will sure as hell do that. We’ll make it work.”
“We can’t make this work! We can’t make any of this work! I’m sure I ordered the deer. They sent the wrong thing. This is a disaster. Everything is a disaster.” She turned away from the moose, who now seemed to be laughing at her. Yeah, him and the universe and whoever else she’d somehow pissed off.
Helen nodded at the driver. “You can put them up in the wine barn. There’s a loading dock around back.”
Whitney knew she was bordering on having a meltdown, but who could blame her?
“Helen, I don’t want the stupid mooses! Moose. Whatever.” Whitney threw her hands up in defeat. “What are we going to do? Now I don’t have any deer for the float. Not that we’ll have a float, since I have no one to build it. That means no parade for us. The signs haven’t arrived yet—none of them. Not for the winery. Not for the festival booth. Nothing. The promo booklets have a misprint right on the front page, so those are useless. The wine labels came in the wrong color. This rebranding plan has officially failed.”
Helen’s face flushed in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry about the labels. You know how bad I am with computers, and I must have clicked on the green ones by mistake. But it’s okay. We’ll be plain old Falls Legend Winery at the festival, with our plain old trifold brochures and regular labels. We can gradually introduce all the new stuff afterward.”
How could Helen be so calm? Whitney fought off the irrational urge to stomp her feet like a five-year-old.
“That won’t work. I had it all planned. We need to make a splash. We need something that says ‘look who we are now!’ The festival is the perfect opportunity. If we miss it, all this planning, not to mention the investment, will be pointless.”
Whitney’s chest tightened, and hyperventilating was a very real possibility. So was bursting into tears, but she wouldn’t let that happen.
Before Helen could respond to her outburst, Luke walked up, a bemused smile on his face.
“Would either of you ladies like to explain why there are two giant moose being unloaded in the barn? Molly just about lost her mind.”
His question made the disaster feel that much more real. This wasn’t a dream. There were moose—mooses?—in the wine barn.
“It’s a mistake, like every other damn thing this week. A mistake! The whole festival is ruined for us now.”
He held up his hands to stop her. “Okay, why don’t you just take a breath.”
Whitney saw red. Her mom used to say that all the time. That and...
Luke finished her thought for her. “I think you’re overreacting.”
This was the story of Whitney’s whole damn life. No one around her ever worried about a damn thing, even as she yelled out warnings about impending disasters. Why did everyone she knew seem like the kind of folks who’d rather rearrange the deck chairs on a sinking ship than try to save themselves? They had a chance to put Falls Legend Winery back on the map, and no one cared but her.
This time she did stomp her foot. “Damn it, why is everyone so mellow about all of this? Is no one paying attention to what’s happening? Or should I say, not happening?”
Helen laughed. She laughed. “Honey, two weeks ago we all thought the winery was about to go under. Now we have that rainy-day fund you discovered. Take a moment to enjoy the thrill of surviving. Everything else will sort itself out eventually. And the place looks nice.”
She gestured at the freshly painted carriage house with its refreshed front porch and newly stained deck overlooking the lake. There were baskets of flowers hanging all around, and a potted hydrangea sitting on top of an old wine barrel they’d put by the entrance. The building had a fresh, vibrant look compared to when she’d arrived.
“Helen’s right,” Luke said. “Besides, throwing a fit when things go wrong doesn’t help anyone.”
Maintaining her happy-happy attitude around him while waiting to see if he was ever going to forgive her was beginning to take a toll on her self-control. She leveled a glare at him.
“I am not throwing a fit. Trust me, if I was throwing a fit, you’d damn well know it.” She took a shaky breath, t
rying to steady her voice. “That account was good news, but it’s not a golden parachute that can carry this business forever. We’ve already earmarked a big chunk of it for repairs and upgrades, including getting ready for the festival. Looks like that was a wasted investment.”
Luke shook his head. “We’re as ready as we’re going to get. We’ll make the best of it at the festival and pick up our sales the old-fashioned way, by selling good wine. It’ll be fine.”
And there it was. Luke’s favorite word over the past week. Fine. Everything was freaking fine, no matter the subject. He was fine. They were fine. The winery was fine. Finances were fine. The festival would be fine. But nothing felt fine right now, especially between the two of them. The signs were subtle, but something had definitely shifted. Cooled. His eyes weren’t quite as warm. Or if they were, he’d blink it away as if he’d caught himself in a weak moment.
His touch was cooler, too. He told her they needed “space” and suggested she not come to his place for a while. She hated it, but she gave him his damn space. Because she loved the man and wanted him to work through this and let her back in. She understood he was upset she’d questioned his handling of the rainy-day account. But she was an accountant. She read numbers like most people read thrillers. And the story had pointed her in the wrong direction. How long was he going to make her pay the price for doing her job?
And the roller coaster started up again. She was sorry she hurt him. She was also angry that he couldn’t forgive her. She wanted him back. She also wanted to yell at him. Sure—he had family history. But so did she. And there went the carnival ride again. It was her family history that made it so hard for her to trust. It was his that made him think everyone was judging him. Their mutual family baggage was piling up between them, and she was beginning to wonder if they’d ever blast through it.
The surprise phone call this morning from Dallas had rattled her even more. She’d been cleaning up the tasting room when her phone rang with a job offer. A good one, with a clear path to partnership. Whitney sat at the wine counter and listened to what sounded like a dream job. Or at least, it would have been a dream job a few months ago. But now? How could she leave Rendezvous Falls when she was in love with Luke? She’d scribbled some notes on scrap paper as the recruiter talked, more out of habit than anything else. She’d let the guy ramble on, while her thoughts did the same. She’d heard something in the carriage room during the call, but figured it must have been Molly upstairs. When the recruiter asked what she thought about the offer, she’d hedged, saying the same thing she would have said two months ago—to email her more details. She’d give them the courtesy of at least acting interested.
