by Amy Gamet
Who did that leave?
She’d heard Robbie Dansforth and his wife were separated, but that seemed a little too soon, so she hoped it wasn’t Robbie.
Maybe it’s Greg.
Her heart skipped a beat as it often did when she thought of her ex-boyfriend. Even all this time later, the mention of the man she loved was enough to pull her out of the present and drag her back to the past, like a boulder dragging a mermaid into the depths of the sea.
She shook her head as she walked. “No. It is not Greg. Greg is gone and he’s not coming back and he’s certainly not leaving you presents on your doorstep. Get a grip, Melanie.”
Already she could feel her good spirits beginning to wane from the direction her thoughts had taken, and she forced her attention back to the beautiful day, the bracelet on her wrist, and the promise of a new and exciting job.
What, are you going to keep it?
“If he weren’t so creepy, I’d keep it.”
She was nearly at Crescent Moon already, the long rock wall that lined the property now running alongside her footpath. A sick feeling of dread began to build up in her stomach, her mind once again whirling with what she might say.
You don’t have to lie. Just tell him the truth. You don’t want to work here. End of story.
The sound of her footsteps on the pavement was like a drum, ticking away the seconds until she faced him. Maybe he wouldn’t even be there. Maybe she’d have the relative luxury of resigning to some minor staff member who could simply pass along the message to Rafael.
She rounded a corner and began to walk up Crescent Moon’s long driveway.
Rafael.
What kind of name was Rafael?
Rafael was an angel. And there was a famous painter named Rafael, if she had her art history correct. But it wasn’t a name for a regular man who never talked to anyone and made her nervous just to be around him.
A car was coming behind her, and she moved to the side of the road.
Rafael pulled up beside her in his truck. “Hey, glad to see you made it. Hop in.”
She hesitated, words perched on her tongue.
I don’t want to work for you.
Too harsh.
She reached for the door handle. “Thanks.”
He started driving again. “So, I was thinking after we talked last night,” he said. “There’s no reason you couldn’t stay on and work with the grapevines after the fall rush is over.”
“Really?”
“Sure. We can always use someone with a green thumb around the vineyard, though you might have to do some odd jobs here and there.”
“That’s okay.”
“But most of the time you’ll work with me. I’m the vineyard manager, so the vines are my responsibility. Peter Galbraith is the winery manager, so he’s in charge of everything once the grapes are crushed into juice. Do you know Peter?”
She was staring at him while he talked. She was going to quit because she thought Rafael was aloof and scary, but the man sitting next to her was downright friendly.
And a handsome piece of man candy, to boot.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know Peter?”
She shook her head to clear it. “No.”
“He lives over on Keuka. Good guy. You’ll like him. But right now we need you in the tasting room. Do you know anything about wine?”
“Nope.”
“Do you drink wine?”
“Not since a particularly sketchy evening with a box of white zinfandel.”
He laughed. “Now that’s a story I’d like to hear sometime. You’ll have to learn the basics. Doris can teach you what you need to know.”
“Doris Hope?”
He nodded.
“Her daughter Gloria used to babysit me.”
The road crested the first of several small hills, a large, pale yellow barn with a wide white deck coming into view.
“I’ll never get over how small this town is. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone’s business,” he said.
“Except for yours.” She cringed at her own words.
He parked the truck next to the barn and turned to her, his gaze intense. “Except for mine?”
She could feel herself blushing. “Well, you keep to yourself so much, I don’t think you’ve given any of us a chance to get to know you, is all.”
“Anyone who wants to know me just has to talk to me. I’m at the Grill every week, and your friend the bartender is the only person who’s ever spoken to me. I could hear you two talking Friday night. I know what you were saying.”
Melanie was blushing furiously now. “That was Brandy. That wasn’t me.”
“It sounded like both of you to me.”
Oh, man. This guy had really good ears. “Rafael, I’m so sorry…”
He held up his hand. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad. I just want you to see that maybe this town isn’t as friendly to me as it is to you. Now let’s go inside. Doris is waiting for you, and I need to get to work.”
Melanie walked a half-step behind him toward the barn, her eyes catching on a hand-painted sign that read “Tasting Room”. If she quit now, he’d either think she was ashamed of herself for the things she said at the Grill, or that she didn’t want to work for him because he was strange and their relationship was thirty-two degrees beyond awkward.
Both of which were completely true.
She raised her chin and forced herself to walk alongside him. It would be a cold day in hell before she’d willingly confirm either of those things to Rafael.
Chapter 2
An hour later, Melanie had ten glasses of wine in front of her, her fingertips at her temples. She was completely confused by the information Doris was throwing at her, from how dry or sweet the wines were to the tannins and acidity and what kinds of grapes each was made from. Add to that, she’d had a headache since she and Rafael parted ways.
Rainbows, my foot.
“I’m starting to think you might want someone who actually drinks wine working at the wine tasting counter,” she said.
Doris walked around the bar and sat down. “Pretend I’m your first customer. What do you say?”
“I welcome you to Crescent Moon and give you a wine list. I ask you to choose between a sweet or a dry flight, each of which has five different wines in it. There’s a five dollar charge per flight for a tasting, and you get a two dollar coupon toward the purchase of a bottle.”
“Which flight do you recommend?”
“Personally, I prefer a nice amber lager.”
“Melanie…”
Melanie turned up her palms. “You tell me. What should I recommend?”
“The dry. Three out of five of the wines in that flight are award-winners, with the chardonnay taking first place at the regional level.”
“Perfect. The dry flight it is.” Melanie exhaled loudly and took in Doris’s warm smile. She had liked the older woman instantly. “Have you worked here a long time?”
“Eleven years. I retired from teaching just before that, then I needed to get out of the house after my husband passed away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. We were together forty-three years.” Doris began cleaning up the glasses they’d been using. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”
“No.”
Doris gave an understanding nod. “Sometimes it takes a while to find that one special person you’re meant to be with.”
“What if I found him, but I don’t have him anymore?” Melanie picked up a cloth and cleaned off the counter.
“Well, that’s a horse of another color. What happened?”
Melanie shrugged. “Greg Mora. We were together for nine years. After college he joined the Army and went to Afghanistan. He came back with post-traumatic stress disorder.” Just saying the words was like a little death, the end of everything that had once mattered. “He was only home a couple of months before
he just left one day. I don’t think he could handle coming back to his regular life.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”
“I used to think so. I was sure of it, as a matter of fact.” Melanie stared out the wide window to the lake beyond. “It’s like a piece of me went missing, and I’m never going to be okay again until I get it back.”
She could still see his shadowed eyes, peeking out from beneath a US Army baseball hat.
I can’t stay here, Melanie. It’s like I’m drowning.
Those words would never leave her, no matter how much time or understanding came to fill the empty space inside her.
They’d been so happy before his deployment. Nine years of firsts and forevers and one true love to guide them into the future. But she could tell he wasn’t the same man he used to be. When she held him tightly in the night, she was holding a stranger, an unpredictable time bomb who would say everything was fine while reality burst into flames around them both.
War had changed the man she loved.
Changed him forever.
You can get help. I will help you. We’ll get through this together.
He’d looked at her as if she wasn’t even there, just turned around and walked out the screen door, letting it slam shut behind him.
When she went to his apartment to look for him, she found a frying pan full of raw eggs rotting in the sun. She wandered through the rooms, the floor covered in laundry and odd things, like someone had thrown everything off shelves and from drawers. A suitcase sat on the desk and she walked to it, her brow furrowing when she saw it was empty.
She didn’t understand what was happening. Had someone broken into Greg’s apartment? Had he done this himself? Had he really left?
If he left, he should have taken his suitcase with him, his things…
The bathroom door was ajar, a sliver of light screaming to her to see what was inside, and she was overwhelmed with the sudden fear Greg had killed himself and was still in that bathroom. She felt faint, feet propelling her forward against her will as her heart pounded. She pushed open the bathroom door with shaking fingers.
A trickling stream of water fell from the open tap onto a razor below. The rest of the room was empty. Then she was on the floor, knees up to her face, crying hysterically.
You knew he wasn’t well. Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, this is all your fault.
She’d searched for days and days, everywhere she could think of to find him. His parents’ rental house on the water. His uncle’s hunting cabin in the woods.
He wasn’t anywhere.
“Melanie?”
She turned around with a start to find Rafael standing behind her. “What?”
His eyes were penetrating, hypnotizing. “Where were you just now?”
She very nearly told him the truth, but something stopped her. She twisted the bracelet on her wrist, the feel of the warm metal against her skin somehow comforting.
“I’m back now,” she said.
“You should talk about it.”
“We all have our secrets, don’t we, Rafael?”
He lifted his chin. “Yes, I suppose we do.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
* * *
Rafael drove up to the high fields and got out of his truck.
He’d been eavesdropping. That would teach him. He’d been about to walk downstairs from the office when he heard Doris ask Melanie if she was seeing anyone, then of course he stayed to hear the answer.
Her response came as no surprise to Rafael—it was the longing in her voice that was his undoing. He knew all about her relationship with Greg Mora and his subsequent disappearance. It was one of the reasons he had waited to pursue her—to give her time to heal, to make sure the other man wasn’t coming back.
Time to let her blossom again.
He’d thought she was ready, but one look at her just now had shown him there was a depth to her heartache he hadn’t anticipated.
Melanie Addario was still waiting for her lover to return.
Rafael cursed as he walked between two rows of grapevines, the sun shining on his back. None of his plans where Melanie was concerned were going as he had hoped, starting with her request for a job at Crescent Moon. He’d wanted to say no—over my dead body—but couldn’t think of an easy way to do it. He didn’t want her working for him, he wanted to date her, which would be challenging if she was suddenly reporting to him as her boss. But last night he’d had time to consider, and spending more time with Melanie, even as her boss, could only help him get close to her.
He’d just have to remain a secret admirer for a while longer than he’d intended. She’d been wearing the bracelet he left for her, at least. That was a good sign. Perhaps if she had time to get used to the idea of a different man in her life, she would be more open to saying yes when he asked her out.
He wiped his hand over his mouth and tried to force his thoughts away from Melanie. A cool wind whipped across the field, bringing the smell of coming rain, and Rafael heard the vineyard truck coming down the path. It appeared and Peter hopped out, an excited smile on his tanned face. “The brix is spot-on for the chardonnay,” he yelled. “Want me to give the go-ahead to pick tomorrow?”
Rafael smiled in spite of himself. No matter how many years he spent at the vineyard, there was nothing more exciting than the beginning of the harvest, the first crush. All year they waited for this, watching the tender shoots spring from last year’s woody branches, the first clusters of flowers and the slowly ripening fruit. For the past several weeks, there’d been a palpable anticipation at Crescent Moon, as if the entire vineyard staff was waiting on the edge of their seats.
“Sounds good to me,” Rafael answered, and Peter gave a happy holler. “Man, I love this time of year,” said Peter. “Especially after the rotten year I’ve had.”
Rafael knew Peter was referring to his recent separation from his wife, as well as some corresponding financial troubles. “Can only get better from here, right?”
“Absolutely. Did you notice the pinot noir’s running ahead of schedule this year?”
“I did. Won’t be long before we’re picking those, too.”
“Hey. I wanted to say thanks.”
“For what?”
Peter shrugged. “For sticking by me through this mess with my soon-to-be ex-wife. For putting up with me missing work and running three steps behind on everything. I want you to know it means a lot, and I’m back to normal now.”
Rafael grinned. “I only put up with you because you’re the best winemaker in the Finger Lakes.”
“And don’t you forget it, Delacruz.” Peter headed back to the truck.
It had been hard watching Peter struggle through his personal problems, but Rafael meant what he said. Peter was the best there was, and a good friend, too. Maybe one of Rafael’s only friends, if it came right down to it.
He turned back to the grapevines, weighing a cluster in his palm. He couldn’t wait to see the first bins full of grapes, heavy with juice, their fragrant fruit forever reminding him of his beginnings in Moon Lake.
He’d been a fruit-picker, and an underage one at that. Not that Charlie Henderson knew—the original owner of Crescent Moon would never knowingly have an underage worker in his fields. The deception came earlier, long before Rafael arrived in this town of abundance and beauty, so unlike where he came from.
Yes, the harvest was full of good memories, and he wanted Melanie to experience it for herself. Not that he would tell her what it once meant to him, but surely a woman in love with plants would enjoy this time as much as he did.
Shoot.
He reached up to rub the back of his neck. He couldn’t let Melanie do that, he needed her to help Doris with the fall rush of tourists who were scheduled to make their tasting-room numbers go berserk tomorrow and every day for the foreseeable future.
Unless he could get Ann
ie to cover the tasting room.
Just barely out of college, Annie had started working in the tasting room at Crescent Moon when she was still in high school, and after which she decided to pursue a career in the field. Technically she was Peter’s assistant, but she’d helped Rafael before.
Doris insisted Annie was sweet on Rafael, but whatever the reason, Annie was usually willing to lend a hand. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the winery.
“Annie, it’s Rafael. I need you to cover the tasting room tomorrow. Think you can do that for me?”
“Peter said you’re picking the chardonnay tomorrow.”
“I’ll have you back by three. You’ll hardly miss anything.”
“He’s going to be angry.”
“I’ll take care of Peter.”
She sighed. “Oh, all right. But only for you, Rafael.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it, Annie.”
* * *
The sun was nearly down, the windows of the tasting room glowing golden with light. Rafael parked his truck, rolled down his window and turned to his dog, patting his black and white fur. “Stay, Lobo.”
Rafael got out of the truck, his feet stilling beneath him as he spotted Melanie through the window. She was laughing, her head thrown back, and he smiled.
Man, she is beautiful.
It was the same thought he had all those years ago when he first set eyes on her.
He began to walk toward the tasting room. It was his custom to check in with Doris and see how her day went, though surely she was checking on him just as much. She’d been more of a mother to him than his own had ever been. It was Doris who first took an interest in him, who encouraged Charlie Henderson to give the boy who’d stolen from Crescent Moon a chance to repay his debt.
For that, he’d be forever grateful.
But now checking in with Doris was checking in with Melanie, too, a fact that was already coloring this part of his day an entirely different shade of interesting. He opened the door and Melanie’s gaze snapped to his, effectively punching him straight in the solar plexus.
“Hey,” she said, wiping away a stray hair from her face, and he knew that this moment would be one he would always remember. Finding her here, as if waiting for him, looking like she was glad for the sight of him.
