by Jo McNally
“It’s a stunt. Stunts don’t work long-term.”
Logan started to laugh. “That’s rich, Gran, coming from the woman who engineered a way for me and Piper’s family to be forced together to decorate her Christmas tree so we could reconcile, after you and your posse had that come-to-Jesus talk with Piper’s former mother-in-law.”
Iris, a diminutive octogenarian, shook her finger in Logan’s face, forcing her grandson to take a step backward. “I was just seeding the ground so there was a chance for something to grow. You-all did the work on your own.”
“To be fair, Mrs. Taggart,” Owen argued, “that’s all I’m trying to do. Thaw the ice enough that Lucy will give me a chance.”
“A chance at what? To do what you want her to do?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Was this a trick question?
She waved her hand and turned to follow her friends. “That’s what I thought. Figure your shit out, Mr. Cooper. Decide your endgame before you do any more grandstanding. Don’t get that chance you say you want, then not know what to do with it.”
He blinked a few times as she walked away, her ebony cane clicking on the concrete. Logan rested his hand on Owen’s shoulder.
“Gran’s a take-no-prisoners sort. But she’s also annoyingly right about most things. What is your endgame with Lucy? Back to what you both had planned? A fresh start somewhere else? I think that might make a big difference in her reactions.”
Lucy scrambled out the car, gesturing toward the daisy wheels and giggling with Piper about something. She seemed lighter. Happier. Not just because of the car. She’d been that way since he’d arrived in Rendezvous Falls. As if walking away from their wedding plans had freed her. The sound of her laughter washed over him again. Maybe...just maybe...the chance to hear that sound every day would be worth making a few changes in his life.
“A picnic.”
Logan pulled his head back and frowned at Owen. “What?”
“That’s next on the list.” He shrugged. “There technically isn’t any order to the tips. Dr. Find-Love says to play it by ear. But picnic is up next. Says they’re romantic, but casual. The woman’s guard will be down...” He gritted his teeth. “Damn it, I wish these ideas didn’t have that tinge of creepy-stalker-dude whenever I say them out loud. There are actually tips on each step to make sure you don’t act like someone who needs a restraining order filed against him.”
“Good.” Logan slid his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Because that did sound creepy as shit. But I think I have an idea for you, if Piper approves.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re going up to the winery Monday for a vineyard boxed lunch. It’s something Whitney and Evie want to try. They want to experiment with a few guinea pigs first, and we have an invitation. They’re going to have tables scattered through the vineyard, and they’ll hand out boxed lunches that Evie will bring from the diner. Whitney and Luke will serve some of their wines, in small portions in some sort of covered wineglass people can take with them. Sort of an outdoor tasting? I don’t know—winemaking is not my thing. But Piper and I are going, and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind another couple joining in.”
Lucy didn’t work on Mondays, so maybe...
“You said you need Piper’s approval?”
Logan chuckled. “Not on everything I do, but getting involved in whatever you two are up to? And the way she and Lucy are becoming attached at the hip? Yeah, I need her blessing. Hang on...” Before Owen could object, Logan was gone, tugging his wife aside with a kiss for her and an apology to Lucy. They talked away from the crowd, which was beginning to disperse. The show was over, apparently.
Piper’s lips pursed and her brows gathered as she listened. Then her eyes went wide and she looked at Owen—who did his best not to look desperate—then at Lucy, still talking to Evie. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if the corner of her mouth ticked up a notch. She said something to her husband, and he laughed before he pulled her in for a surprisingly hot kiss in a parking lot still fairly full of people.
Iris smacked her cane on the asphalt twice, scowling. “That’s enough of that. It’s still broad daylight, for heaven’s sake, and you’re a married couple. Have some dignity.”
Rick Thomas gave Iris a mocking nudge. “You’re just jealous, old woman.”
“Bullshit. You think I need an afternoon quickie at my age? Been there. Done that.”
Piper put her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my God, it was a kiss, not a quickie.” She held up her hand. “And no, I don’t want to hear about your quickie conquests, Iris.” She walked back to Piper’s side, but not before sending Owen what seemed to be a promising wink.
Logan joined him again. “Easier than I thought. Lucy’s already planning to go. Evie invited her a couple weeks ago when they were at the tattoo studio.”
“Oh, good,” Owen started to nod, then froze. What had Logan just said? “Did you say tattoo studio? Lucy was just there to hold Evie’s hand, right?” She’d always said her parents would have a hissy fit if she ever got a tattoo. The body was a temple or something like that.
Logan snorted. “Does Evie look like she needs hand-holding when she’s getting a tattoo?”
He had a point. The bubbly brunette had a lot of ink. Evie didn’t look like she needed any moral support while getting a tattoo.
“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a secret,” Logan said, following Owen’s gaze. “But I think your runaway bride got ink. And that’s all I’m sayin’.”
Owen had some tats. A celtic band around one bicep. The name of his Army division on his back shoulder, with his deployment dates under it. Logan had a lot of ink himself, with a colorful ocean scene—above and below the water—covering one arm and up under his shirt.
But Lucy with a tat? Owen would have bet a thousand dollars that would never happen. Now he’d pay ten times that just to see it. Artwork, with her beautiful skin as the canvas. Was it big? Small? And most importantly...
“But...where?”
“Uh-uh. I value my family jewels right where they are, thank you very much. Piper would kill me, or worse, if she knew I was even talking about this. You’ll have to find out the rest on your own.” Logan was enjoying Owen’s distress. “Anyway...the good news is Piper thinks it will be fine if you join us. Dr. Find-Love wants you on a casual picnic? You got it.”
Logan stepped away to assist his grandmother up the steps and into the inn. Owen was anchored to the ground, unable to move. He watched as Lucy locked up the Bug and waved goodbye to Evie. She saw him staring and tipped her head in curiosity, but before she could do more, little Lily Montgomery was tugging at her hand, pulling her away to look at something. He watched the two go across the parking lot toward the pink Victorian house.
If only he had X-ray vision so he could find if she really had a tattoo under her clothing. He had a feeling he wouldn’t get a peaceful night’s rest until he knew what—and where—it was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LUCY KNEW OWEN was going to be at Falls Legend Winery for lunch. Piper had asked her the night before if it was okay with her. As if he needed Lucy’s permission. But at least she was prepared to see him. Or so she thought.
She’d driven her “new” car up the hill to the winery, picking up Piper’s friend Chantese on the way. Chantese loved Buttercup, and Lucy had to admit it was a really sweet ride now. She was pretty sure the old version of Buttercup would never have been able to climb this hill. Owen hadn’t been that far off when he’d called it a deathtrap.
Evie Hudson and her husband, Mark, were stacking white boxes on a table just outside the tasting room and wine store. Each box was wrapped with a wide burgundy ribbon tied into a bow.
“The winery store is a miniature of the house!” Lucy hadn’t been up here before, and she was instantly charmed. The house—a Victorian
like everything else in Rendezvous Falls—was painted in a cheery combination of green, ivory and dark red. A round tower graced one corner, and a wide porch wrapped around the house, with hanging baskets of red and white geraniums. The two-story wine shop was across the gravel parking lot from the house, and looked like a mirror reflection—same tower, same colors, same flowers on the porch. Just smaller. Chantese nodded, the beads in her tiny braids clicking together softly.
“Helen Russo’s late husband converted the old carriage house into their wine shop ages ago.” They got out of the car in front of the store. “Whitney’s accounting office is upstairs.”
“Do they live here with Helen?” She’d met Helen Russo at the flower shop last week when she came in looking for a centerpiece for a book club meeting she was hosting. Helen had tried to convince Connie to go, but she’d refused. Helen struck her as a kind soul with a warm smile.
“Yes,” Chantese answered. “I’m sorry, I forget that you’re not a local. Helen is Whitney’s aunt. She has a downstairs suite and Luke and Whitney have the upstairs. Of course, they had to convert one room into a nursery for their new baby, Anthony. But that house is plenty big enough for everyone. Oh, there’s Whitney up in the vineyard...” Chantese laughed. “And she’s got that baby strapped to her chest. I’m beginning to think she never puts the kid down.”
The rows of vines marched up the hill like rungs of a ladder, thick with wide leaves and enormous bunches of grapes. She could see people moving back and forth in the rows. One by one, colorful picnic table umbrellas popped open. From what she understood, the idea was to have a “Lunch in the Vineyard” event one day a month in the nice weather. Customers could purchase a boxed lunch and dine outside. They’d found a company that sold plastic wineglasses with snap on covers, so customers could try a small serving of Falls Legend wine with their lunch. For nondrinkers and children, they had glasses filled with white grape juice.
There was a soft breeze blowing, and Lucy had to hold her hair back from covering her face completely. The view from the winery was beautiful, looking down the hill where Seneca Lake could be seen shining bright blue beyond the trees, stretching north to south in the narrow valley. A few more cars pulled in and parked. Helen Russo was greeting people as they arrived.
Logan Taggart’s large SUV came up the driveway, parking next to Buttercup and dwarfing it. Chantese laughed at the sight, saying Logan had originally arrived in Rendezvous Falls on a motorcycle, which wasn’t exactly practical as a family or work vehicle. She said he still had the bike for fun, but had purchased the SUV last summer as his everyday transportation.
Logan gave the women a quick wave as he hopped out to help Lily escape her booster seat in the back. Piper stepped out on the other side, with Owen doing the same from the back seat. He was talking with teenage Ethan about some baseball game. The two walked over to Luke and Mark in front of the tasting room, and soon the men were all animatedly talking about sports. Owen was in dark shorts, canvas sneakers and a green polo shirt that had a logo she recognized from the Purple Shamrock. He clearly hadn’t packed for a month-long stay, and had been adding to his wardrobe around town. He draped his arm over Ethan’s shoulders and said something to the boy that made him burst out laughing. She couldn’t help smiling. Owen was beginning to relax...and smile...again. She was beginning to see more of the man she’d fallen in love with.
“Lucy! Chantese!” Lily ran over to clasp them each in one of her precious bear hugs. “I didn’t know you were coming, Miss Lucy! Why didn’t you ride with us? Lift me up!”
Lucy did as commanded, propping Lily on her hip with a groan. “Whoa, I think you’re getting too big for this, kiddo. And your car looked pretty full. That’s why I picked up Miss Chantese and met you here.” Plus she didn’t trust herself being scrunched tight next to Owen in the backseat. “Are you excited about lunch?”
“Yes! It’s a picnic and I get to drink wine from grapes.”
“No, you don’t.” Piper joined them. “You get to drink grape juice from a wineglass. Not the same thing. Get down before you break Miss Lucy’s hip, you horse.” Lily wriggled and Lucy leaned over so the girl could dash off to greet everyone else. Piper sighed. “I swear if I had half her energy I could rule the world.”
Another car pulled in, and several of the book club members got out. Cecile was there, along with Rick Thomas and Vickie Pendergast. A tall, elegant Black woman was the last to emerge, talking rapidly on her phone.
“I don’t care when the client wants the pottery, I’m telling you I can’t complete the pottery until next week.” Her lips thinned in annoyance. “Remind the client that I’m not the one who kept making change after change to the order. This is why I don’t like commissioned work. It’s not art, it’s just aggravation.” She ended the call and slid the phone in her pocket, looking up to catch Lucy’s eye. “Sorry. I swear I love everything about my business except the people I have to deal with.” Her expression softened. “You’re Lucy, right? I’m Lena Fox. I know Connie at the flower shop from way back. I’ve heard all about the Runaway Bride of Rendezvous Falls.”
Gold and silver bangles slid up and down her arm musically as she moved, contrasting against her dark skin. There were rings on her fingers and thumbs, and huge hoop earrings dangled from her ears. A long cotton skirt with bright tribal designs swirled around her legs.
Piper visibly cringed at Lena’s title for Lucy, but Lucy didn’t mind. It hadn’t been said meanly, but more as a matter of fact. And she could hardly argue—she was a runaway bride. One whose jilted fiancé had followed her all the way to Rendezvous Falls. She imagined she and Owen were probably the talk of the town by now.
“Nice to meet you, Lena.” She shook the older woman’s hand.
Before Lena could say more, Whitney Rutledge clapped her hands, standing near the lunch table. Tall and willowy, with dark hair cut into a shoulder-length bob that was tucked behind her ears, she called out to get everyone’s attention. Her infant son, sound asleep in the carrier in front of her, didn’t flinch.
“Okay, everyone, it’s time to do this!” Whitney said, gesturing toward the box lunches. “Thank you for being part of our trial run for Lunch in the Vineyard. We want to make sure this will work the way we intended, and that it will be something people will enjoy. You have a choice of lunch between roast beef sandwiches with horseradish or turkey sandwiches with cranberry mayonnaise. Each box also has chips, a small bottle of water and one of my aunt’s famous homemade cookies. For vegetarians, there are some boxes with large salads and no sandwiches.” She took a deep breath, glancing over at Evie with a wink. “Today’s lunches are provided by the Spot Diner. Luke will give you a choice of red or white wines—today’s picks are chardonnay or pinot noir. Once you have your lunches, you can walk up to the vineyard and find a table and chairs to enjoy your meal right among the grapes.” She held up a finger. “But please...no touching of the grapevines. That’s our livelihood, and for today they are for atmosphere only.”
Luke Rutledge nodded behind her. “I’ll second that. My biggest concern with this whole idea is that someone will get handsy with the vines, but we’ll be wandering around keeping an eye on things. We really want to know what you guys think of this, so don’t be shy about telling us what works and what doesn’t. The larger tables are up the center, off to the sides and in the wider swaths between grape varieties. But there are more intimate tables located in some rows, with room for just two if that’s what you want.” He cleared his throat. “So without further delay, please come up and select a lunch and a beverage.”
Lucy fell into line with Chantese and Piper, but as people headed up the hill, families and couples started breaking into groups. The Taggarts, with Chantese joining them, filled a table on their own. Lucy waved off Piper’s invitation and turned to see if there was another group she could join. Maybe the book club? She sensed someone behind her and turned to find Owen. He held up
his box with a tentative smile.
“Join me for lunch?”
The temptation to say yes surprised her, but she caught herself.
“Bad idea, Owen.”
“It’s only lunch, Luce. In broad daylight. With people all around us.”
“I know that, but I’m worried you don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you getting your hopes up that things are going to change.”
The lines around his eyes tightened a notch, as if she’d stung him. She gave a heavy sigh.
“You see? That’s what I mean!”
“What?” He straightened.
“That kicked-puppy expression of yours just now. I don’t want to be the bad guy. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have...”
“Hey...” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not the bad guy. You never were.” He started walking up the hill. There didn’t seem to be anyone else dining this high up in the vineyard. He looked over his shoulder to make sure she was following. “We both did our share of causing pain, and I think we’ve agreed neither of us intended to do that, right?”
“Right.” He turned between two rows of grapevines, toward a tiny table with two chairs. There was no umbrella over it, so you’d never know it was there unless...she narrowed her eyes at his back. “You set this up, didn’t you? This table, way far away from anyone else. Owen...”
She stopped, but he kept walking, setting his lunch and wine on the table, then taking hers from her hands and doing the same. He held out the closer chair and looked at her expectantly.
“Set up isn’t the right word,” he answered. “They did say we might find tables for two up here.” He glanced at the chair, then back to her. “It’s still just lunch. In broad daylight. With our friends nearby.
“If you want to go sit with the Taggarts or someone, that’s fine. I get it. I just thought this would give us a chance to talk more. AS friends.” He paused. “Please.”
