His cell phone rang. He checked the display. Shit. Seth. Leo hesitated for a second then answered. “Hey. I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Oh? Good news?”
“You need news? I can’t just reach out to a friend?”
Seth laughed. “Hey, an agent can hope. Two things…first, good luck at your interview in Boston this week. The producers appreciate you doing some promo for the movie.”
“I’m happy to do it,” he lied. Promotion was his least favorite part of writing. Movie rights for The Wolfe Wars had sold right before the novel won the Pulitzer. The complex examination of class struggles took the success of all his novels to unimaginable heights, but scrambling to stay there was prudent. This interview was necessary.
“Good. I’m heading to Vermont this weekend. A firm retreat. One of the other agents has a house up there.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Not really. But sometimes duty calls. I pretty much drive straight past your lake house. Up for some company and an overnight guest? Assuming you’re coming back home after the interview.”
Leo hesitated, knowing full well this was more about a face-to-face talk than the book. It could help, though. “I’ll be back by then. Sure. Come on up.”
“Susan might drive up with me. Do you mind if she stays, too? She said you two were still friends.”
Susan, Seth’s co-worker who Leo had dated last year, possessed a quality Leo couldn’t resist. Quiet desperation. Her needs were hidden beneath a likeable persona, but the first time they’d talked, Leo had learned about her unhappiness after a difficult divorce. His “fix-it” desires wanted Susan to feel happier. Only this time, a few months into dating her, Leo woke to the reason why he chose this type of women: he’d seen enough of his mother’s addiction issues as a kid to wish he’d been able to fix her, too. He’d ended things with Susan before they got too serious.
“Of course we’re still friends. Let her know she’s welcome.”
“Great. Glad to see you’re not going all J.D. Salinger on us.”
Leo chuckled, even though his efforts to be alone continued to unravel with more visitors. “No. I told you where I was. I’d love some company.”
“Try to find a decent place for us to go out Friday night. Preferably where I don’t need a flannel shirt.”
“Bring one along, just in case.”
“See you Friday around dinner time.”
As Leo hung up, a car engine outside the window sputtered to life. He went to the window in time to see Emma’s car disappearing down the driveway.
He headed out his door and down the stairs. Time for a break. Besides, if Bella was alone down there, she might like some company.
* * * *
“The lake view from here is spectacular.” Meg pointed across the field.
Rose turned and squinted into the sun. From this vantage point, the lake opened up, showing more of the nooks and crannies of the shoreline than were visible from Leo’s house. Besides the perfect view and lines of leafy vines along the hillside of Litchfield Hill Vineyards, goats bleated in a pen near the barn and hens clucked.
“Such a beautiful lake. And this vineyard and farm…it’s so peaceful around here.”
Meg nodded. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, not her real estate attire, she looked like a downhome country gal. “A few years back, this place was a dump. My friend Sophie, her husband, and her brother worked magic. Let’s go inside and see if Sophie’s free.”
They entered a warm and welcoming room with rustic beamed ceilings and terracotta tiled floors. A woman glanced up from stacking wine bottles.
“Hi. You must be Emma.” She lowered the box to the floor and came out from behind the bar, her hand extended. Her dark eyes matched her chocolate hair and she’d dressed in barnyard casual, like Meg. “I’m Sophie Jamieson. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Rose suddenly wished for her old appearance. The cheap glasses to disguise her face got a little looser every day and she desperately needed a better haircut. “This is a beautiful place you’ve got here.”
“Thanks. It’s been a lot of work, but worth every second.”
“A real dream come true, right, Soph?” Meg piped in.
A tall man entered through a doorway wiping his hands on a dirty rag. Worn jeans hung on his hips, kept in place by a thick leather belt that also secured his chambray shirt.
“Hello there, ladies.” He winked at Meg. “I thought I heard you.”
Meg’s fair skin turned pink. “Hi, Charlie.”
“Emma”—Sophie put her hand on the man’s shoulder—“this is Charlie Van Patten. He joined us three months ago to give Jay, my brother, a hand with our wine making. We don’t know how we got by without him.”
“Thanks, Sophie.” He tipped his head at Rose. “Nice to meet you.” He quickly returned his steadfast gaze to Meg. “I’m glad you’re here. Got a second? I need an opinion.”
Meg’s sweet face brightened. “Me? Of course I’ve got time for you.”
Charlie grinned, and they disappeared through the curtained doorway.
Sophie turned to Rose. “Poor Meg. Her husband left her last year. She was so loyal to him, but he…” Sophie shook her head. “Well, he wasn’t as good to her. I’m thrilled to see this thing brewing with Charlie. He’s a great guy.”
“That’s sweet.” Sadness niggled at Rose. She wanted a great guy. Not a man who used her, like John. “Meg has made me feel at home here.”
Sophie motioned to a table and pulled out a chair. “Meg’s the best. Why don’t you take a seat? Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m good.” Rose sat down opposite her. “Thank you for seeing me today.”
“The timing is perfect. Someone just quit and then Meg told me about you. What brings you to Northbridge?”
Rose inhaled and hoped the line she’d rehearsed came out as believable as it sounded in her mind. “I’m dealing with the aftermath of a bad divorce. My husband just won’t let it go.” She folded her hands on the tiled tabletop, hoping it made her seem more composed than she felt inside. “I saw the ad for a rental space on the lake and figured it would be peaceful and far from him, you know?”
“Yes, the Drake estate is secluded. I heard the renter there before you left pretty quickly.”
Rose laughed. “Guess he thought the house was haunted.”
“And you’re not afraid?”
“Trust me; I don’t scare easily.”
“We need someone with that kind of attitude around here. The job involves working in our tasting room. Do you like wine?”
“Are you kidding?” Rose grinned. “But, to be honest, I’m not sure I could talk about it like a pro.”
“We’ll train you. My brother-in-law and brother have come up with blurbs on each wine. All you need to do is memorize them. We keep little cheat cards nearby when you first start.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“We need someone Friday nights from five to nine. Saturday hours will vary, but definitely the afternoon from noon to five. We sometimes run night events, so those nights you can pick up another shift. Then Sunday afternoon for a few hours.”
“What’s the job entail?”
“Talking up our wines to visitors, stocking things, cleaning up. This’ll be our second year in business, so our selection and stock is building. And of course, talking to our guests. People love to talk about themselves, hear about what we do here, even hear about the town. What’s your background?”
“I worked in customer service.” Wasn’t her experience as a counselor and advice columnist doing a service for some?
“Then you’re perfect. If you can deal with people, you’ve got half the job battled. Emma, you’re hired.” Sophie scribbled down a number on a business card and handed it to Rose. “If this hourly rate works, can you start tomorrow for training? Friday will be your first day working.”
Rose noted the h
alfway decent rate. “I’d love to take the job, but I have a favor to ask. Any chance you could pay this off the books? With everything going on with my ex-husband, it would just be easier.”
Sophie considered it for a moment then extended her hand. “Sure. Welcome to the vineyard.”
“I can’t wait to get started.”
On the way to her car, Rose exhaled her relief and the tenseness in her shoulders lightened. The paycheck would help her get by. Not enough to pay the PI, though. If she got lucky, by the time Dan delivered a bill, her landlord would have the decency to return the envelope he’d taken.
At least, she could only hope.
Chapter 7
“Come on. You can hang with me for a while.” Leo held open the door and Bella moseyed out of the apartment with a rawhide chew dangling from her mouth.
Emma had gone out again today. For someone new to town, she sure had a busy social life. Both times she’d left, he’d heard the dog whining and let her out so she’d have some company.
The dog followed him to the far end of the hall. Leo turned into the alcove and crouched in the corner near the dryer, never having felt more ridiculous. He took out the recently purchased recording device from his pocket and put it on the floor while removing a previously cut out section of Sheetrock. He made an adjustment to the timer on the electronic device and laid it inside the wall. Every fiber of his being tried to ignore the foolishness of the act and instead concentrate on the reasons he wanted the house back to himself.
As he pushed the square of Sheetrock back into place, Bella stood close, bumping Leo’s shoulder with the rawhide chew.
“Ever heard of personal space?” he asked, chuckling and gently encouraging the dog to back up while he crawled out from the corner. Rolling back on his heels, Leo stood upright. The replaced Sheetrock piece, located on the same wall as the guest apartment bedroom, blended in perfectly.
The summer before he’d entered second grade, he and his siblings had discovered this opening in the wall during a rainy-day game of hide and seek. In their younger years, they’d used it occasionally to eavesdrop on weekend guests who stayed in the downstairs living quarters. Later, when teenagers, it had provided a great hiding spot for cigarettes and pot. Once they’d even used it to scare Aunt Harriet with a tape-recorded message in the middle of the night. Leo had never forgotten how his aunt came down to breakfast saying she was leaving early.
The childhood shenanigan had prompted Leo to try this with the last tenant, when Everett had rented the place without telling Leo. Feeling ridiculous but desperate, he’d combed the Internet until he found a recording device with a timer. A little further digging uncovered a CD of authentic haunting sounds. Leo easily transferred them to the small recorder. When the tenant had gone to work one morning, Leo let himself into the house and left the recorder in the attic, right above the guy’s bedroom. Two days later, Leo had watched the man move out.
The timing of this visit to his sister’s worked out well. Emma would be alone here tonight. If he could scare her out, and somehow get through the Friday night visit from Seth, he might soon have the solitude he craved.
Bella lifted her sad eyes while the half-eaten rawhide dangled from her mouth. A cry for attention if there ever was one.
“You wanna play?” Leo shifted to the silly voice he’d found himself using around her. “I’m gonna get your toy.”
Bella’s entire body swayed with happiness and she emitted a low, throaty growl. Leo grabbed the tip of the damp toy and tugged. Bella gave him a good fight, but Leo won. Stepping into the hallway, he tossed the rawhide into the kitchen and laughed as Bella slid past it before she could stop.
The dog suddenly ignored the toy and gave a clipped bark as she ran to the door. Leo followed and peered outside. Emma’s slightly rusted Escort pulled into a space near the detached garage and the driver’s side door opened.
He rushed the dog into the apartment and tossed the toy on living room floor.
A glance at the end table showed the photograph he’d turned upside down was now upright. He rushed over, turned it face down again, scratched Bella on the head, and hurried from the room. He reached the staircase at the same second the back door opened.
Once upstairs, he packed his overnight bag. When finished, he called Mallory. At the fourth ring his sister answered.
“On your way?” she asked, her voice always bright as a sunny day.
“Running a little late but wanted to let you know.”
“Always the more considerate brother.”
Mallory had buffered the problems between Leo and Everett over the years. Especially when Leo had arrived at their home as a foster child and Everett hadn’t even tried to hide his contempt. His heart warmed for his sister, probably his best friend.
“As much as I’d like to agree, we both know I’ve had my moments, too.”
She laughed. “We won’t talk about those. I made a dinner reservation, but we should be fine unless you hit traffic.”
“I’ll call if I do. See you in a couple of hours.”
He grabbed his bag and went downstairs, heading straight for Emma’s door and knocking.
Bella howled. He waited. Nobody answered, so he knocked again and the dog barked.
The door’s handle jiggled, followed by Emma’s muffled voice. “Shhh. Come on, move back.” The door opened halfway and she peeked out, clutching a tartan plaid robe near her chest.
Dripping ringlets of hair clung to her slim neck. With those horrible glasses removed, her large blue eyes showed a deceiving innocence. The shape of her face was so heart-like Cupid would smile. He dropped his gaze to her lips, which were a little too small for her face, but a luscious shade of pink. Quite desir—
“Yes?”
Her voice jarred him. Bella whimpered and pushed at Emma’s human blockade. Her slender thigh bent to keep the dog inside, giving Leo a perfect view of her ivory-smooth skin peeking from the robe’s slit. Leo’s tongue twisted into a knot.
His gaze took a slow trail along her thigh, past the knot of her bathrobe at her waist, paused at the glistening water near her chest at the “V” where her bathrobe joined, and stopped at her piercing gaze.
She cocked a brow. “Can I help you?”
A warm sensation hit the center of his heart. The same one he’d felt yesterday, while watching her play with the dog from his attic window.
“Leo?”
“Yes. Sorry.” Get a grip, man! “I just stopped by to remind you I’ll be gone overnight.”
She watched him, her crystal eyes flickering as she studied his face. “Okay. Did you want me to do something here while you’re away?”
“No.”
Behind her strong gaze rested a glimpse of vulnerability. A chivalrous gene in him wanted to learn why. Did it matter? An hour ago he was setting the stage for some good old-fashioned psychological fear.
He refocused on his original goal. “No. Only to let you know you’re here alone and to make sure you lock up before bed.”
“Right, I’ll lock up. Have a good trip.”
Bella’s head appeared near Emma’s shin. When she shifted, the dog broke through and went to Leo, jumping up and planting her paws on his knees.
He stroked her silky ears and cooed a few sweet nothings but sensed Emma’s watchful gaze.
“I’m sorry about her.” She stepped out, still clutching her bathrobe, and gently coaxed the dog down.
Their gazes met. A sensation inside his chest stirred, one he rarely felt. Since the night she’d arrived, Emma Morris—with her odd clothes and made-up life story and cartoonish dog—had penetrated a fortress he’d hid behind since losing his wife.
“No problem,” he finally managed.
She closed the door. Before it clicked tight, he swore he heard her say “traitor,” presumably to the dog.
He walked away, his head in a fog over the brief conversation. What the hell just happened?
/> * * * *
“This merlot was a silver medal winner at a competition in the Finger Lakes last year.” Sophie poured from a bottle labeled Jay’s Joy. “From the name, you can tell my brother is quite proud of this one.”
Rose listened from her place on a stool at the bar, literally drinking in her vineyard training. Good thing she’d had lunch before coming. While she took the job out of necessity, learning about the various wines was fascinating. “Jay should be proud. A silver medal is notable.”
“Damn straight.” Jay came out of the backroom and winked. Heading for the staircase to the offices, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Going for the gold next time.”
Sophie shook her head. “He’s got a serious competitive streak.”
They continued the lesson. Rose swirl, sniffed, and tasted.
After a few rounds, Sophie poured one last glass. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve learned.”
Rose took a sip, swished the contents inside her mouth. This job was better than any she’d ever had. “Medium bodied?”
Sophie nodded.
Rose took a second sip and let it settle on her taste buds. “Cherry, with a hint of butter.”
“Pretty close to the blurb on the card. I think you missed your calling.”
Sophie’s husband, Duncan, walked in for the second time during their training, this time holding a box pressed to his broad chest. His sandy hair and rugged face could sell wine on looks alone.
“Where do you want ’em, babe?”
“Leave them behind the bar. I’ll put them away.”
He lowered the box and walked over to his wife, casually slipping his arm around her waist. “So, has she turned you into an expert yet?”
“Almost. Under Sophie’s coaching, I can’t go wrong.”
“I’ll second that.” Duncan kissed his wife’s cheek. “Taught me everything I know. Someday I’ll tell you the story about how she seduced me. Now she’s got me carrying around her boxes, sweeping the floor, kissing her feet.”
Bella Luna Page 8
