A Delicate Finish

by Jeanette Baker

  “Men who’ve been divorced for as long as you have don’t just change their minds. I’m not that naive.”

  “Why not give it a chance?”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Why are you doing this? I can’t imagine that you have trouble finding female companionship.”

  His eyes narrowed and twinkled. “Thank you.”

  “Well?”

  “I don’t have trouble finding female companionship. But it’s your companionship I want. That’s worth proving myself.”

  “Why?”

  He looked puzzled.

  “Why me?” she said again.

  His forehead cleared. “Because you’re accomplished and intelligent and lovely. Because your eyes are a blue I’ve never seen before. Because I love your capable hands and your generous smile. Because being around you feels like coming home.”

  She released her breath. “That was very nice and I admit, it makes me feel appreciated. Did you just make all that up, or have you been practicing?”

  “It came over me.” He held up his right hand. “Honestly.”

  “All right.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “All right. We’ll try.”

  He could feel her embarrassment. How unusual for a woman so attractive to be self-conscious. He took her hand. “Thank you.”

  Just then his cell phone rang. The display said private number. He lifted it to his ear. “Hello.”

  His face darkened. “All right. I’ll wait. Call me no matter what time it is.”

  Flipping the phone shut, he looked at her. “He won’t be processed until after midnight. He didn’t want me to worry.”

  Julianne stood, pulled him to his feet and linked her arm through his. “Pay your bill. You’re coming home with me. I’ll make coffee and ply you with dessert.”

  “I can’t. I have to pick Sarah up at her dressage lesson.”

  “Bring her along. She can stay with us when Drew calls. We have extra rooms.”

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “You’re not bothering anyone.” She slipped her hand inside his. “Really.”

  Something compelled him. He wanted to wait until she trusted him, but the moment seemed right. Carefully, gently, he bent his head and brushed her lips with his. She did not pull away. “Thank you, Julianne. You’ve rescued me more than once.”

  “I’ll remind you to make it up to me.”

  Back in his own car, he recalled their conversation and laughed. Julianne made him laugh. It was amazing, really. An hour ago he thought he would never laugh again.

  Sarah kicked the toe of her boot against the ragweed sprouting from the concrete in front of the equestrian center. She’d been waiting for fifteen minutes and she was furious. Why couldn’t he be on time for her? He was retentively punctual with everything else.

  Ten minutes later she watched her father’s silver-gray Infiniti pull into the parking lot. Taking her time, she made her way to the car, opened the door and, without a word, climbed into the back.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, honey. Something came up.”

  “So, what else is new?” she muttered.

  He looked at her through the rearview mirror. “Excuse me?”

  Sarah exploded. “You’re always late picking me up. What’s so hard about getting here on time for a change? If it was the other way around, if I wasn’t there when you came, you’d be furious with me.”

  Mitch was very close to losing control. “Not today, Sarah. I can’t take this from you now.”

  “You never take anything from me. You’re so busy being polite to everyone else that you’ve forgotten about me altogether.”

  Abruptly, he pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the engine and set the brake. Then he turned around. “Your brother is in trouble, serious trouble. I’ve been waiting all afternoon for him to call me.”

  “Drew’s always in trouble.”

  “He’s in jail, Sarah, for selling drugs. They’ve arrested him. I’m sorry for being late, but, under the circumstances, maybe you could cut me a little slack.”

  She stared at him, white-lipped, her face frozen. “Oh, my God. What will happen to him?”

  “I don’t know. Anything you could tell me would help.”

  “I knew the kid he was with was trouble.”

  “What kid?”

  “Someone named Jason Saunders. Drew’s been tight with him lately.”

  “I’ll make a note of the name. Maybe Drew will tell the police himself if he’s frightened enough.”

  “Or maybe Jason will blame everything on Drew.”

  “Drew’s never been in legal trouble before. According to your dean of students, there’s a drug ring that’s been operating for some time. Drew is a new student. They’ll believe him.”

  “You hope,” she retorted. “Don’t count on it.”

  Mitch started the car again and pulled out on to the road. Were all kids so cynical? Had the world changed that much in thirty years?

  Nineteen

  Jake found Gene Cappiello squatting on the ground, inspecting the rows of dormant vines along his northern slopes. The Cappiello vineyards were by far the most beautiful in the valley, row after row of thick, woody, twisted trunks reaching toward the sky. Flecks of autumn-colored leaves still remained in the trellises.

  “Can’t get enough, can you?” he said, coming up behind him. “This is supposed to be the dormant period when you give those vines a rest.”

  Gene looked up and grinned. “Where did you come from?”

  “Kate told me where to find you.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to talk about your For Sale sign.”

  Gene’s grin faded. “You, too?”

  “I’ve known you my whole life, buddy. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

  “Like you told me two years ago?” Gene challenged him.

  Jake reddened. “That was different. Besides, I called you.”

  “After the fact.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Gene. I was leaving my family. I didn’t feel like making the rounds of my neighbors’ houses.”

  Gene stared out over his vineyard. “Then you know how it feels.”

  Jake frowned. “Look. There must be something we can do.”

  “There’s nothing.”

  “You don’t know that,” Jake protested. “We could put our heads together, all of us around here, and come up with something. Anything’s better than leaving this.” He waved his arm to encompass the cultivated land, the golden hills, the dusty soil and the thick, twisted vines.

  Gene shook his head. “What are you gonna do, Jake? You can’t ordain a good harvest. This is my last year of ending up in the red. I can’t pay anybody and I’m tired of not being able to sleep at night because of what I’m doing to Kate. People around here don’t have money to throw away on a losing vineyard.”

  “It’s not a losing vineyard. Your timing was bad, that’s all. We’ve had the roughest three years in two decades.”

  “The end result is the same.”

  “What if I figure something out?”

  Gene shook his head. “You’re not a magician, my friend. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but give it up. It’s a lost cause.”

  “What if someone buys in and takes over as the major partner? What if I found some investors? You would still have an interest in the business. Later, you could buy your vineyard back if it was profitable.”

  “Who, in their right mind, would do that?”

  “Just let me work on it, okay?”

  The flash of hope in his friend’s eyes was almost too painful to watch. Jake turned away and pretended to scan the horizon.

  “I don’t know,” Gene said at last.

  “What would it take to convince you?”

  Gene, a man slow to words, took his time finding the right ones. “It takes time to find investors, if you can get them at all. I’ll lose the GGI offer.”


  Jake Harris was born with an innate love of the soil. The genes of his Basque ancestors had predestined him for an affinity with the sun, the seasons, an ability to withstand backbreaking labor and to revel in the giddy, light-headed magic of the harvest. But he was also a man born into the twentieth century, a college graduate with a degree in enology and a shrewd understanding of people. “Give me thirty days. GGI will want your land in a month as much as right now.”

  It took a full minute for Jake’s words to process. Gene raised one eyebrow. “Francesca asked for a week.”

  Jake grinned. “Francie’s a softy.”

  Gene sighed. “All right. You win. I’ll talk to Kate. If she’s okay with it, you have your month. How about staying for dinner? She’s making spaghetti. It can’t compare to you mother’s, but it’s good.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  It was nearly eleven by the time Jake walked through his own front door. He was mentally exhausted. Drawn by the light and voices, he walked down the hall into the kitchen. Francesca and his mother were lingering over cups of coffee and Julianne’s famous molten-chocolate cake.

  “Did you save any for me?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” said his mother. “It’s in the ramekin on the stove. Would you like coffee to go with it?”

  “I’ll get it,” he said.

  Francesca stirred her dessert absently. “Did you have any luck with Gene?” she asked

  Jake sat down at the table. “Temporarily.”

  Francesca looked up. “What does that mean?”

  “We have a month to find a new buyer for Soledad. The catch is, Gene stays on as part owner.”

  “That’s insane. Who would want to do that? The vineyard isn’t profitable.”

  “The wine industry has had a few bad years. I think we could make go of it.”

  Her eyes widened. “We?”

  Jake spooned a healthy portion of chocolate into his mouth and moaned. “Heaven in a ramekin.”

  Julianne laughed. “Your son said the same thing before he went to bed.”

  “Jake.” Francesca’s impatience was obvious. “Who are the we you’re talking about?”

  A minute passed before he answered. “I’m not sure yet.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. You persuaded Gene to hold off on the sale of his bankrupt vineyard and you don’t even have an idea?”

  “I have an idea, Francie, but I’m not as quick at the draw as you are. I’m trying to think of the best way to explain what I think is a damn good idea.”

  “All right.” She swallowed another bite of her dessert. “When do you think you’ll be ready?”

  “Tomorrow.” His eyes twinkled wickedly.

  She shrugged. “Have it your way. It’s not my problem anyway.”

  “That isn’t nice, Frances,” Julianne admonished her gently. “Gene is a friend and he’s in trouble. Of course it’s your problem.”

  Francesca’s cheeks burned. “I wasn’t referring to Gene.”

  Jake looked at her, his voice low. “Francie thinks I’ve dug myself a grave. Actually, I appreciate the concern.”

  “Don’t take it to the bank,” she said under her breath.

  Silence settled over the kitchen. Finally, Jake broke it. “So, have I missed any news? How’s Nick?”

  Julianne sighed. “Nick is fine, but he’s only eight years old. I worry about his teenage years. Those are difficult.”

  “Are you generalizing, or has something specific happened?”

  “Mitch and Sarah Gillette left shortly before Frances came in. They stayed for dinner. Drew has been arrested for possession of marijuana.”

  Francesca sniffed and blew her nose with her napkin. “Possession is a misdemeanor. He won’t get more than a fine and a suspended driver’s license.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a bit more than that,” Julianne said carefully. “The police claim he was selling it.”

  Jake whistled. “Wow! What’s the matter with the kid? He’s got everything, looks, brains and a rich father.”

  “He doesn’t have a mother,” Julianne said sharply, “and his father has moved him away from everything familiar. It’s no wonder he’s looking for acceptance any way he can.”

  Francesca spoke quietly. “How are you involved in this, Julianne?”

  The pink came and went across the fine bones of the older woman’s cheeks. “I’m not, really.”

  “The fact that Mitch would confide in you says something, I think.”

  Julianne shrugged. “Maybe so. We’ve become friends. I suggested that I might have work for Drew, something small, on the weekends. It would give him spending money, maybe give him a sense of purpose. The boy is intelligent, and when I talked to him about the business, he appeared genuinely interested.”

  “Are you still of the same mind?”

  Julianne nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’re going to allow a kid who sells drugs around your grandson?” Jake was incredulous.

  His mother looked surprised. “I didn’t think about it that way.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Wait a minute, Jake.” Francesca’s dark eyes pinned him down. “Drew hardly fits the profile of a drug dealer. We all know that. He’s a disenfranchised boy who made a bad mistake. Aren’t you the one who told me not to jump to conclusions when Nick fell into the creek? I, for one, am grateful to Drew. Maybe we should all give him a chance.”

  He stared at her, unable to look away, caught by his own words and the wash of guilt he carried around for not wanting his mother to have anything to do with Mitchell Gillette.

  “Thank you, Frances,” her mother-in-law said softly. “I know you’re fond of Sarah. This can’t be easy for her. She has a special bond with Drew. I’ve heard it’s that way with twins. I think the move has made their connection even stronger.”

  Francesca nodded. “I’ll see if I can spend some time with her. We really haven’t been in touch since she joined the equestrian center.”

  Jake stood abruptly, rinsed his dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher. Then he sat down again. “I have more bad news, Francie. Norman says the leak in the dam is a huge one. He’s calling in a crew of engineers to find it. Until it’s corrected, the soil conditions are too wet for vines. We may lose a lot more.”

  She sighed. “Thank goodness this season’s grapes are harvested.”

  “That’s a positive way of looking at it.” He yawned. “I’m for bed. Good night.”

  His mother’s eyes followed him until he was out of sight. “I don’t know what’s going on with Jake,” she said thoughtfully. “It isn’t like him to be so against someone.”

  “It’s clear as a bell to me,” replied Francesca. “He’s afraid you and Mitch will become romantically involved.”

  Julianne blushed. “What’s so terrible about that?”

  “A number of things.” Francesca ticked them off on her fingers. “Mitch works for GGI, which means he isn’t here permanently. One of two things could happen. You could be hurt or, you could pack up and go with him. Then there’s the obvious. Jake is your only son. In typical male fashion, he’s not used to sharing the limelight.”

  “He already shares it with Nick.”

  “Nick is Jake’s child. In his mind, that’s acceptable.”

  Julianne frowned. “How do you know all this? Has he told you or is it all speculation?”

  “Jake doesn’t tell me anything, but therapy does have certain advantages. I’ve been going long enough. I should be getting something out of it.”

  Julianne reached across the table and covered Francesca’s hand with her own. “Why haven’t you told me about this?”

  Francesca blushed. “It’s not something I wanted to advertise.”

  “Which part, Francie, the therapy or the fact that you still love Jake?”

  Francesca was silent. “Both,” she admitted after a minute.

  “What are you going to do?”

&n
bsp; “Keep going the way I’ve been going.”

  Julianne smiled. “I’m talking about Jake.”

  “I’m doing all that I can right now.”

  “He loves you, too. Surely you know that.”

  Francesca nodded. “He says he does, but—”

  “What?”

  The hurt in her eyes broke Julianne’s heart.

  “What’s different?” Francesca asked. “How do I know it will work this time? I can’t go through another breakup. I won’t make it. I’m not an easy-come-easy-go kind of person. I can’t love Jake like I did because I can’t trust him.”

  Julianne wanted to cry. There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to take the girl by the shoulders and shake her into sensibility. She wanted to say, You’ll figure it out, the way she did with her own daughters. But she was very afraid that Francesca wouldn’t figure it out. When would she realize that sharing life with someone who cared whether or not you came home at night and whether or not your children came home at night with a similar intense passion was more important than anything else?

  “Oh, Francie,” she said helplessly, trying to explain. “There are no guarantees, but there won’t be with anyone else, either. Are you planning to spend your life alone? Because, unless you are, why not try again with Jake? You share a history. It’s always better to try and work things out with the father of your child. Have you thought of the whole new set of problems you’ll face with someone new? Even if you meet a man who doesn’t have an ex-wife and children, think of how it will be sending Nick away to wherever Jake is. You can’t possibly think he’ll be able to come and go the way he does now?”

  “You’ve married me off already. I haven’t even met anyone.”

  “I’m trying to open your eyes, my love. I wouldn’t have said anything if you’d told me you had no feelings for Jake, or if he had none for you.” She kissed Francesca’s cheek, gathered the dishes and set them in the sink. “I’m completely drained. It’s been quite a day.”

  Francesca nodded. “Good night.”

  “Will you think about what I said, Frances?”

  “I always do.”

  Jake knew he was dreaming. It was the same dream he always had: he would be sleeping and she would come to him, a tall, slender woman with hair the color of ripe honey, dark in the shadows, roan-brown and shiny in the sunlight. Her shoulders were slender and summer-tanned, her hands long and brown and callused. She wore something white that floated when she moved. Her eyes were dark with flecks of gold and her bones were strong and defined under her smooth olive skin.