Little did Andrea know that part of the reason he’d stayed away this last year was because of his growing attraction to her, an attraction that should have died years ago.
“Max?”
She must have heard him drive in. He jerked his head around to spot her running out of the cottage toward him. It brought on an adrenalin rush—his reaction every time he saw her. The blood hammered in his ears.
She was dressed in modest white shorts and a blue-on-white print blouse her figure did wonders for. In the last two months she’d had her hair cut shorter, making her five-foot-seven body look taller. The cascade of ash-blond silk swirled around her jaw as she ran toward him.
“Thank heaven you came!” she cried without preamble. Close up, her green eyes looked anguished. “I thought you were the ambulance from the hospital in St. Helena. While I was painting, Steve staggered over to the cottage to talk to me, and passed out.”
With that revelation Max hurried past her into the house. His normally fastidious father lay dead drunk on the studio couch, in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. He was unshaved, unkempt.
Max cringed at the sight. He felt for a pulse. “How long has he been like this?” No wonder she’d raged at him.
“When I found him in bed this morning, passed out, I phoned you. It wasn’t long after that when he came over here and collapsed. I called 9-1-1, but asked them not to use the siren. He would hate to have attention drawn to himself. His pride couldn’t take it.”
Andrea understood his father very well, and why not? She’d worked for him for twenty-three years. By now they would have a fine-tuned knowledge of each other. Without looking at her, Max said, “You were right to call. He’s ill and needs a lot of help.”
“It will mean the world to him to know you came.”
The tremor in her voice increased his concern over his father’s condition. “Right now I’m afraid he’s oblivious.”
“But when he wakes up, yours will be the face he sees. I’m so glad you’re here!” she said again, with enough emotion for him to realize she was truly frightened.
“Thank God you were here for him, Andrea.”
“I should have called you weeks ago,” she declared.
“I’m the one who should have come months ago,” he muttered in self-deprecation.
They both heard voices at the door; the ambulance had come. She hurried to the entrance. “While you deal with the paramedics, I’ll go over to the house. Steve will need some things at the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter Three
Of necessity, Andrea had to inform Jim that Steve wouldn’t be at the estate for several days. She didn’t give a reason why. If there was an emergency, he was to call Max. She left the message including Max’s phone number at the bank on Jim’s voice mail.
Andrea didn’t want him knowing personal details about Steve. The vintner would probably slack off on the job even more, knowing the boss was away. The less Jim knew, the better.
With that accomplished Andrea packed an overnight bag for Steve, including his personal items and his wallet. After turning off lights, she locked the back door, then hurried to the cottage to change into a denim wraparound skirt and sandals.
Grabbing her cell phone, she locked the front door and left for the hospital. When she reached the E.R., she learned to her surprise that Steve had been transported to an alcohol treatment center outside Rutherford. The triage nurse gave her the address and told her Mr. de Roussillac’s son would be expecting her.
The facility was only seven miles away, not that far from her aunt’s nursing home. When Andrea approached the receptionist at the center, she was told to go through the double doors on her right and she would find Mr. de Roussillac in room E45. Andrea thanked the woman and headed there.
After knocking on the door and opening it, she was confronted by Max, whose solemn black eyes settled on her. Andrea was taller than average, yet she still had to look up into his face.
His silky, charcoal-tone sport shirt covered a well-defined chest. Her gaze dropped lower and she noticed how the gray trousers molded to his powerful thighs. When she could gather her wits, she realized the large, comfortable, no doubt expensive room contained an empty bed.
“W-where’s Steve?” she stammered.
“Being examined and tested for blood-alcohol levels. I met the psychiatrist on staff a few minutes ago. He’ll be here shortly to talk to us. Come in and we’ll wait together.”
He took the overnight bag from her hand. Their fingers brushed in the process, sending rivulets of sensation up her arm. She stayed in the doorway. “I just wanted Steve to have his things. I don’t need to be here.”
Max’s dark eyes grew hooded. “Actually, you do. The doctor wants to talk to the person who’s been around him the most and knows him the best. There’s only one person who fits the description and that’s you.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m not family.”
He cocked his dark head. “True, but you’ve been a trusted employee living on the premises for many years. That counts for a lot.”
His logic defeated her.
“Hello,” said a male voice directly behind her. Andrea turned to see a fiftyish hulk of a man wearing a lab coat. “I’m Dr. Shand.” He shook her hand.
“I’m Andrea Danbury. When Steve passed out this morning, I’m the one who called for an ambulance.”
“It’s a good thing you did. Let’s step inside and talk, shall we?”
Andrea had no choice but to enter the room. She found a chair at the round table over in the corner and sat down. Max, lean and fit, stood by the other chair, while the doctor sat on the edge of the bed with his hands braced on either side of him.
“I’m hoping you can answer a few questions Max couldn’t. How long has Mr. de Roussillac been drinking this heavily?”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve worked for him close to twenty-three years. About five months ago I noticed he started having a drink in the morning. He would drink steadily throughout the afternoon. Then, little by little, I saw he was having another drink before bed. When I cautioned him, because I was worried, he snapped at me, which was totally unlike him.
“My aunt was an alcoholic for many years so I recognize the signs. The thing is, Steve has always been a temperate man. I hoped it was simply a phase he was going through because he was so unhappy. Unfortunately, he never came out of it.”
The doctor leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what brought on the downturn in his behavior?”
Andrea could feel Max’s eyes on her. “Yes. It happened the day his divorce became final, three months ago. Not long after that his ex-wife’s father passed away. She phoned Steve at the vineyard. Whatever was said during their conversation seemed to turn him inside out. He went to San Francisco for the funeral. I don’t know what happened between the two of them, but when he came back, he was a different man.”
“In what way?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Max’s body stiffen. “He closed up on me. I tried to get him to talk, but he withdrew from everyone, his foreman and crew. When my daughter, Sammi, came home between photography jobs, she worried because he didn’t seek her out. She was the one who had to find him. That was very unusual for Steve, because he’d always treated her like a granddaughter.”
Andrea noticed Max rubbing the back of his neck, a subtle sign that he was growing more disturbed by what he was hearing.
“Little by little he stopped socializing with the local vintners. He disappeared for a couple of days. When he came back, he told me he’d decided not to take his yearly trip to Alsace to see his cousins. When they said they’d come to California, he told them not to.”
Max looked haunted. “I had no idea.”
Andrea bit her lip. “I should have said something sooner.” She turned to the doctor. “Steve’s a kind, loving, generous man, but he just kept retreating inside himself.
“Perhaps the most noticeable thing was that he didn’t
talk about Max anymore. He idolizes his son.” Once again her glance strayed to Max, who appeared stricken by her revelations. “I knew then he was reaching rock bottom.”
Dr. Shand nodded. “You’ve given me enough information to proceed. In general, most alcoholics suffer from a problem of depression or bipolar disorder. Mr. de Roussillac displays the four classic symptoms. He drinks heavily despite being warned of the danger, he drinks alone, he drinks at odd hours of the day—like this morning, for instance—and his drinking has resulted in poor work performance. Max told me the vineyard and grounds have suffered over the last year.”
She lowered her head. “Yes.” What else could she say? If Max hadn’t gotten the message by now that his absences made him partly responsible for Steve’s troubled state of mind, then heaven help them both.
“I’d like to keep him here for several weeks or even a month, depending on his progress. After that we’ll see about letting him go home at night.”
Andrea got to her feet. “I’ve felt he’s needed this kind of care for a long time, Doctor. I’m glad he’s here and that you had a spot for him. I need to get back to work, but first let me thank you.” She shook his hand again. “When Steve’s better, I know he’ll be thankful, too.”
“Andrea?” Max called as she started to leave.
She paused at the door. “Yes?”
A grimace had broken out on his handsome features. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be staying at the main house for a while.”
“That will thrill your father.” She was thrilled by the news. Glancing away, she said, “I’ll see you later.” On that note, she exited the building, practically running to her car.
Right now she’d give anything to call Sammi and talk to her about this, but her daughter’s anger made that impossible. By the time Andrea reached the cottage, she was too full of adrenaline to paint. Normally her craft grounded her, but that wasn’t possible today. With her emotions exploding all over the place, she walked to the main house and decided to give the kitchen and the upstairs a good housecleaning.
Both Max’s and Steve’s bedrooms needed beds changed with clean sheets. Bathrooms needed scouring. The works! Though the winery had become run-down, she didn’t want Max to find fault with her abilities as a housekeeper, especially now that he was staying on for a few days.
At four-thirty, she finished her work, then went to the wine tasting room and opened up for the few visitors who would come. While she waited, she phoned her friend Nancy Owens and asked if she’d like to meet for dinner and a movie. To her relief she was free. Her husband would be working late.
Nancy’s college-age son was doing a poly sci spring internship in Washington, D.C. Like Andrea, she suffered from empty-nest syndrome. The two of them decided to make a night of it. They also made plans for the next evening. Following the Cinco de Mayo Golf Classic in Napa tomorrow, where her husband, Pete, was playing, the Owens were hosting a barbecue at their home in St. Helena.
After chatting for a few more minutes Andrea hung up the phone, grateful that for tonight she’d be with a friend. Otherwise she’d sit home agonizing over Sammi and waiting for the sound of Max’s car. Knowing he was going to be around gave her a fluttery feeling in her chest.
Long ago she’d rejected Max because she hadn’t wanted to make a mistake that would cause Steve to let her go. She’d needed the job security too badly. With her baby and her aunt depending on her, she hadn’t dared make another wrong decision.
But you paid a price, pushing away the man you loved. She was in love with Max and had been for years. That was never going to change. She’d tried to care about a few of the men who’d dated her, but without the fire, it was no use.
Incredibly, the fire had always been there with Max. She’d felt its heat in the way his dark eyes flickered at the sight of her. Sometimes his deep voice grew husky while he was talking to her. When he walked into her studio, she was aware of his presence to the exclusion of everything else.
The knowledge that he would be staying at the vineyard for a while seemed to suck the oxygen right out of her lungs.
AT TEN AFTER ELEVEN Max heard a car drive around the back of the main house. He’d stayed at the hospital until his father had gone to sleep for the night. Since returning to the estate, he’d been listening for Andrea.
While waiting for her to show up, he’d started going through the accounts. Tonight his father had murmured something about them being in a mess, but he’d been so out of it the doctor indicated they wouldn’t be able to have a truly coherent conversation until he’d detoxified.
Tomorrow Max intended to get the books up-to-date, but already he could see that over the last twelve months his father’s profits had been dropping, enough to let some of the crew go. At this rate Jim wouldn’t be able to receive the same size paycheck much longer.
Max waited until she got out of the car before he stepped off the back porch to approach her. “Andrea?”
A slight gasp escaped her lips as she turned in his direction. A hand went to her throat. “Max—”
“I’m sorry if I startled you. I thought you’d seen me.”
“It’s all right.” She eyed him with that anxious expression she’d displayed earlier in the day. “How’s Steve?”
“He’s as comfortable as he can be for the time being.”
“Thank goodness. You can’t imagine the relief I feel knowing he’s in a safe place, getting the help he needs.” Her voice throbbed with the kind of emotion that couldn’t be faked.
“My sentiments exactly.” He moved closer. “Dad should have been getting medical attention much sooner, but that’s my fault. I deserved everything you said to me on the phone and much more.”
She shook her head, causing the ash-blond strands to gleam in the moonlight. “No, Max. I was much too outspoken. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. It’s only natural you’ve been frightened, seeing him degenerate this way.” On impulse he added, “I know you care for him a great deal.”
“I love him,” she said simply. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “When I lost my parents, at age fourteen, I wanted to die. My dad was kind and loving. After I started working for your father, I discovered those same wonderful traits in him. It was like I’d been led to him to help me get over my loss. Sammi thrived under his attention. I’ll never be able to repay him for what he’s done for me and my family.”
Max’s throat swelled. “Have you told him that?”
“Many times. That’s why I feel guilty that I didn’t call you sooner about his condition, but I knew you were so busy after being made head of the corporation. Steve has never wanted you to worry about him. He’s always been so proud of you, you can’t imagine.”
Emotion gripped Max, making it impossible to talk.
“How do you feel about Dr. Shand? Do you trust him?”
Her earnest question deserved an honest answer. “These are early days, but I think he knows what he’s doing,” he replied.
“I want to think that, too. I’m impressed with his straightforward manner. Your father will like that.”
“Agreed.”
His dad had never talked to Max about Andrea, but he didn’t have to. The fact that he’d kept her on at the vineyard for twenty-three years and never hired anyone else said it all. Theirs was as close to a father-daughter relationship as two people could get without it being related by blood. No wonder his father hadn’t answered his mother’s accusation.
The informant who’d poisoned her to the point she’d actually divorced his dad had been dead wrong. Before long, Max would prove it.
He slanted Andrea a covert glance. She looked stunning in a simple coffee-colored, form-fitted T-shirt and tan pants. If she’d been out with a man tonight, he would have had a heart attack at the sight of her.
Max had no doubt a long line of males showed up every time she opened the tasting room to the public. Did she continually reject them the way she’d done him?
>
It had been years since he’d asked her to go out with him. After the last time she’d shot him down, he’d sworn he would never give her another opportunity to gut him. But after their conversation just now, he needed answers to a question that had plagued him for too many years, and decided to risk her rejection one more time.
“I’ve been thinking about the partial loss of the vineyard and how we can turn things around. How would you like to walk through it with me while I assess things?”
Chapter Four
Prepared to hear Andrea tell him she was too tired and needed to go in, Max was taken by surprise when she said, “Give me a minute to freshen up and I’ll join you.”
He didn’t dare flatter himself that she’d been waiting for such an opportunity. Most likely she wanted direction from him now that his father was in the treatment center. Still, the knowledge that she hadn’t turned him down caused his pulse to speed up.
“Take all the time you need. I’m in no hurry.”
True to her word, she emerged from the cottage a minute later minus her handbag. They started walking along the road that led to the entrance of the vineyard. “I know the winery business isn’t my domain, but there is something I’d like to discuss with you anyway.”
“I wish you would,” he told her. “While I’ve been remiss, you’ve had to be the eyes and ears around here. Tell me anything that’s on your mind. I promise you can trust me.”
“I know that.” She flashed him a quick smile that beguiled him. “You’re Steve’s son, after all.”
Considering how much she revered his father, her praise was that much more meaningful. “If you’re concerned about your position, don’t be. Whatever is going to happen around here, you’ll be needed now more than ever.”
“That’s good to hear.” Her tremulous voice revealed hidden worries. “I wanted to talk to you about Jim.”
Max had never cared for the man. The same age as his father, Jim had been working at the winery when Max’s grandfather had died and Steve had taken over. There was something about the foreman’s attitude that had always rubbed Max the wrong way, but his mild-mannered father had ignored it.
A Mother's Wedding Day Page 3
