Bella Luna

by Sharon Struth

  She returned to her work, ignoring the column and focusing on the feature article her editor had asked her to write. “Find a new take on this,” her editor had said, giving Rose a study by a psychologist who claimed he could make people fall in love.

  Rose had cringed, reminded that her boss didn’t realize she was a grade-A phony. Writing a column on relationships didn’t make her an expert on love. Nor did her doctorate in psychology.

  She spent the next forty minutes reading over the study. The premise: human subjects who’d never met, simply asking each other a series of questions and supposedly falling for each other.

  Sure they did. What a ridiculous notion, but this could make a great article. A specific angle eluded her, though if she found some real life guinea pigs and put them to the test, a story idea might evolve.

  She rummaged inside her briefcase for her planner to jot down a brief outline. The planner wasn’t there, so she went into the bedroom and straight to the luggage. Last she’d seen the planner, it had been next to her money inside one of the pockets.

  Rose easily found the planner, but with a further look around, she realized her money wasn’t there. She patted the main compartment, pushed aside a few items she hadn’t unpacked. Still no money.

  The slow heat of panic rippled through her chest, but she took a deep breath. Maybe she’d unpacked it. She yanked open every dresser drawer, checked behind and underneath the furniture. Once she’d searched every cranny of the room, she pulled apart the bathroom and living room. Nothing.

  She took a steadying breath and grabbed her car keys. In the dark driveway, she used the flashlight from the glove compartment to search the car but came up empty-handed.

  Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she returned to the house. How could she have been so careless? She entered the kitchen and canvassed the counters, although she didn’t recall ever having the money in here.

  She’d given Meg the rent money. Then there was the grocery store visit. The moment she’d come inside before her lunch with Joanne, she’d grabbed change from the fifty off the table. So where could the rest be?

  A slow awareness of Leo standing in this very location at that moment made her blood boil. Her unlocked apartment while she’d stepped out for lunch provided a perfect opportunity for someone to enter her room.

  Rose stormed down the hallway to the staircase and flipped on the light switch. She paused for a second, remembering his rules. House rules be damned!

  At the top, a long hallway greeted her with several aged, brown-stained doors, all closed but one. One at the far end faced her. Light peeked out from beneath the lower edge and jazz music drifted from overhead.

  She headed toward it, pausing near a room with an unmade four-poster bed, heavy blue curtains, and oriental-patterned rug. Leo’s bedroom. She continued to the door she hoped was his office, inhaled a deep breath, and banged on the raised panel.

  Nothing. Rose jiggled the glass doorknob. “I need to talk to you!”

  A chair scraped; the music lowered. The heavy tread of footsteps pounded, like someone walking down stairs.

  The door flew open. Leo stared back, his gaze hard as granite. He wore sweatpants and a Princeton sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows. He took a slow sweep of her from top to toe; then his eyes met hers. “Didn’t I ask that you not come up here? I’m working.”

  “You did. I have a problem.” She glanced over his shoulder at a staircase, presumably leading to the attic.

  He crossed his arms across his broad chest and shifted, blocking her view. “Which is?”

  “I left today and…well…” She swallowed, not having really thought through exactly how to say this. “Were you in my apartment?”

  His lips twitched and shadowed jaw clenched. “Why would you ask that?”

  “My money is missing. It was in an envelope and now I can’t find it. I even checked the car. Since there’s only the two of us in this house—”

  “I’m sorry it’s missing, but I did not take your money.” He unfolded his arms and ran a hand through his hair, making the pieces shift into a perfect mess. “Anything else?”

  “How can you explain that it’s missing? Who could have—”

  “Do I seem like a man who has to steal to survive?” he asked tightly.

  He didn’t, but she shrugged. “What else can I assume?”

  “Well, I don’t need to steal to pay for groceries or other overheads.” He arched a dark brow. “In fact, when I’m not being interrupted, I work and actually get paid. There are some ATMs in town. Hopefully, what’s missing will turn up.” He reached for the edge of the door. “Unless you have something else to ask me…”

  “No, but I—”

  The door closed. Rose fumed. This guy was lying. Maybe not about stealing her money, but guilt of some type was written all over his unfortunately handsome face.

  * * * *

  Leo pulled into Litchfield Hill Farm and Vineyards. He passed Jay Moore’s colonial at the entrance and continued to the barn-turned-tasting-room. Bright lights illuminated the building against the dark fields.

  Leo drove straight up the hill and parked in front. He sat inside the dark car, early for his meeting with the Jay. Emma’s accusation that Leo took her money had taken him by surprise. Chalk up another encounter with her where he’d reacted poorly. Not the man he once was, but some angry shell of himself. So what if she’d ruined his ability to concentrate? Concentrate on what? A half-finished novel missing something critical he couldn’t identify?

  Without a doubt, he could’ve been more sympathetic. Hindsight, a useful tool for insight and nothing more. Rather than let the regret take him down, he opened the car door and hoped Jay didn’t mind if he was early.

  Leo walked to the side entrance, to the room where wine production took place. He could only hope his creative skills didn’t fail him tonight. Helping come up with names for the winery’s two new creations had sounded like fun.

  It surprised Leo he’d found a friend in Jay. Socializing wasn’t his thing. On his second day back in town, while Leo sat at the Sunny Side Up counter having a quiet lunch with his book, a tall man two seats away with blond hair fading to silver pulled back in a short ponytail turned to him.

  “New in town?”

  Leo turned, surprised by the interruption. The stranger wore a beige cap that said Litchfield Hills Vineyard.

  “Sort of.” Leo hadn’t been in the mood to go into details, but a vineyard held interest. “Is that winery on your cap nearby?”

  Jay talked for the next ten minutes, his love for the vineyard property drawing Leo right in. Before Leo knew it, he’d agreed to stop by that afternoon to take a look around. By that night, he’d found a comrade. A man who—like Leo—enjoyed the simpler things in life, had little tolerance for things that didn’t sit right, and, to Leo’s surprise, was widowed like him. Not that either ever discussed the aftereffects of their tragedies. Only surface chat about Jay’s wife’s car accident this past year, Camille’s cancer, and how Jay found single parenthood tough.

  Leo pulled open the door and stepped onto the polished concrete floor. Passing a lineup of stainless steel vats and a crate filled with empty wine bottles near a machine used for bottling, he entered the tasting room.

  “Jay?” Leo’s voice reverberated in the quiet space. He spotted a light on in one of the upper-level offices overlooking the rustic tasting room.

  “Be right down.”

  Leo stood for less than a minute and Jay appeared at the top landing, looking down. “Hey, buddy. You’re early.” He walked down the stairs. “Thanks for helping out with this.” Jay smiled, but circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept well.

  Leo had had countless bad nights’ sleep the first year without Camille. “Glad to be of service. Never did I dream I could mix my love of both writing and drinking.”

  Jay softly smiled as he went behind the bar, removed two stemmed goblets
from a rack hanging overhead, and put them on the bar top. “First, you’ve met Trent, right? Our marketing manager?”

  Leo nodded. “I have. The musician.”

  “Yup. He came up with what I thought were great names for the new additions to our collection. Sophie didn’t like them and Duncan was on the fence. When I told them we had a new customer with a palette for wine tasting and a Pulitzer Prize in fiction, Duncan sarcastically suggested we ask you to do it. Figured it wasn’t a bad idea.”

  “Your call this afternoon was a welcome distraction.”

  “Bad day?”

  “Bad couple of days. The never-ending saga with my brother.” Leo had complained to Jay about Everett renting to the last guy at the house.

  “Siblings. It’s never easy. Sophie and I still have our share of disagreements.” Jay tugged out the cork. “But overall we get along.”

  “Unfortunately, the bullshit with my brother has gone on for years. Everett makes the Hatfields and McCoys look like they haven’t a care in the world.”

  Jay winced and poured a little bit into each of their wine glasses. “Sounds stressful.”

  “It is. It really is. Thank God for my sister. If I couldn’t vent to her, I’d be lost.” Leo chuckled. “Now if she’d only stop with the blind dates.”

  Jay eyes widened. “Don’t mention that around Sophie. Don’t want to give her any ideas.” He re-corked the bottle, his thoughts elsewhere, before he glanced up. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Not at all.”

  “How soon before you started dating again?” Jay’s tone shifted, less conversational and softer. “I mean, after losing your wife.”

  “I guess it was around the year mark. My sister fixed me up with a woman she played tennis with.”

  “Were you ready for it?”

  “No. Not even close. Much as I hate to admit it, it was a good first step. My sister made me change my shirt twice and talked nervously through the entire meal, barely giving me chance to get to know her friend.”

  And where was he now, though? A handful of dates past that moment with one attempt at a relationship, ended because it hadn’t felt right. Now he’d run from the urban environment where he’d at least occasionally meet people. Northbridge took him further into a retreat. Jay’s question was a good one. Maybe Leo hadn’t been ready before. Was he even ready now?

  “Must be a good memory.”

  Leo drew his attention back to Jay, whose expression was filled with curiosity. “Sorry. Neither good nor bad. Just remembering those first few times. They were tough. Why? Something come up?”

  “A few hints from friends. Just trying to decide when it’s right to move forward.”

  “You’re probably asking the wrong guy. I’m still sorting things out. Guess we’ll both know when it’s right.”

  Jay reached out and patted Leo’s shoulder. “Glad to know I’m not alone.” He pushed one of the filled glasses in front of Leo. “Now let’s name some wine.”

  * * * *

  Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” mingled with the smell of coffee. Rose opened her eyes and processed the strange surroundings. Oh, right. Her hideout.

  Her phone continued to ring the musical masterpiece. She used her elbows to sit up and reached for it. Her mouth was thick and dry, but she licked her lips and said, “Hello.”

  “Emma?”

  Rose took a second to process both the voice and name. “Meg?”

  “Yes. Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “It’s fine. I needed to get up soon.” Rose shifted to her bottom and pushed the pillows behind her back. She glanced at the clock. 9:00. She never slept this late.

  “Just checking in. I hoped everything was going all right with Mr. Drake…Leo. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

  “Aw, thank you, Meg. You’re very sweet. Leo was fine. I have a little problem, though.” Rose considered her words, because she couldn’t blurt out the truth. “I was going to open a bank account in town today, but now I can’t find the cash I’d brought with me. It’s left me with not much money in my pocket.”

  “Oh dear.” Meg was quiet for a moment. “I’ve got an idea. Because you paid me for the original full month rent, I was just going to apply the overage to the next month, at the new rate. How about I return the second month to you?”

  “Thank you. That would be a start.”

  “I know you work at home, the travel agent thing, but any interest in a weekend job to make a little extra?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Two days ago, my friend who owns a vineyard said she needed someone part-time on the weekends. It’s the vineyard you passed coming from town to your place.”

  Working outside of this house while in hiding didn’t seem practical, but how many people could there be visiting vineyards in remote rural towns? “I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

  “Why not let them decide?”

  At least it would give her more cash. She’d keep searching for the envelope in the meantime. “Okay. So how do I apply?”

  “Let me call Sophie, the owner. If she’s around, can you stop by today?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  “Thanks, Meg. I truly appreciate the help.”

  “Anytime, hon. We gals gotta stick together. God knows we can’t count on the men.”

  “No kidding.”

  Rose hung up and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Bella lay flat on her back on the floor, her front paws limp and back legs wide open.

  “That’s not a very ladylike pose.”

  The dog blinked back but stayed that way. Rose showered then tossed on her stretchy pants and a baggy UConn Huskies sweatshirt purchased at a rest area. She tugged the price tag off the sleeve and slipped on a pair of socks decorated with cartoon dogs. Not a normal wardrobe choice, but something she planned to wear even after this ordeal ended.

  After running a brush through her wet hair, she put on her glasses and headed to the kitchen. Leo sat at the table, the paper open in front of him and a mug in one hand. Instead of his usual gray sweatpants, he wore faded jeans, a slight tear in one knee, and a wrinkled House of Blue’s—Chicago T-shirt.

  His gaze focused on the paper behind a pair of wire-framed glasses she hadn’t seen before. He didn’t look up. “Good morning. I made a big pot of coffee. Help yourself.”

  “Thank you.”

  She walked over to an old-fashioned stove percolator, wondering if she’d traveled back in time instead of across several state borders. The tin object had a few dents in its armor from decades of use. Near it sat a white coffee mug decorated with bright flowers and a cracked glaze interior.

  “The mug is for you.” Leo turned the page but still didn’t look her way.

  “Thank you.”

  She filled it and added cream. Yesterday he’d left the coffee fixings out, too. A nice gesture, in spite of his aloof behavior the rest of the day.

  Bella wasn’t hovering around for her breakfast, so Rose tossed an English muffin into the toaster for herself. Keeping her back to Leo, she waited and looked out into the backyard. A minute later, Bella’s nails clicked on the floor. Rose opened the container of food and filled the bowl with kibbles. She looked down, surprised Bella wasn’t doing the I’m-gonna-eat wiggle around her legs.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Leo had lowered the newspaper and pushed the glasses to the top of his head. Leaning over, he scratched under the dog’s chin, the distant, angry expression he usually wore replaced by softer lines.

  In a low voice, he whispered, “How’s sweet Bella today?”

  Good to know the man who stole her money wasn’t a completely heartless ass. “Okay, Bella. Breakfast.”

  Leo jerked his hand away and scrambled for the paper.

  Rose lowered the bowl to the floor and caught Leo watching her. “Mind if I leave the dog in here with you while I dry my hair before taking
her out?”

  “It’s fine.” He continued reading.

  She started down the hallway.

  “Oh, Emma?”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “About your lost money. I understand paying the rent may be tough.” The corner of his lip lifted slightly against the shadowed grain of his cheeks. “I’d be happy to let you out of the lease we just signed.”

  She narrowed her eyes. As she suspected, he had every reason for making her funds disappear. Her gut trembled, but she forced a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m paid through the month. Besides, I may have a job interview in town.”

  Leo watched her with raised brows and a smug twitch of his lips.

  “FYI. If you think a little thing like stealing my money will change my plans, you, sir, are sorely mistaken.”

  She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and stalked down the hallway, the burn of his gaze searing her back.

  Seemed he was still an ass, after all.

  * * * *

  Leo drank in the angry flash of Emma’s eyes, icy as an arctic blast. Not cold enough to dismantle his appreciation of her backside as she left. With each step, her fitted pants showed off her swaying curves. The dog socks were an interesting touch. He smiled, in spite of his better judgment.

  As she disappeared into her doorway, the quick glimpse of the silky garments from her luggage popped into his thoughts. He shifted in his seat, bothered by both his desires and the idea she could cause this reaction. Her determination at his door last night had been annoying, yet everything about her pushed the buttons of his curiosity.

  Or could it be the lies she told? There were lies, and then there were lies. He sensed hers stemmed from the glimmer of sadness he’d often catch in her eyes. The type of lies not meant to hurt anybody. If he didn’t have his own problems right now, he’d almost feel bad for her.

  Last night’s accusation about the money still nagged at him. He’d been caught off guard when she accused him of going into her apartment. Right away, he figured she’d learned about his snooping around.

  The dog finished eating and waddled over.

  “Hey, Bella. My new friend.” He leaned over, patted her side, and whispered, “Remember, my visit is our little secret.” Bella offered a compliant tail wag.