by Janet Dailey
She also remembered the local band playing over and over again “Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines.” At the time, she had been amused by the choice of songs. Now, looking at Sam, it seemed totally appropriate.
“In an open cockpit, goggles are virtually a necessity.” In the next beat, a glint of amusement appeared in his eyes. “Sometimes I even don a long white silk scarf like the aces in World War One wore.”
“You do?” She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not.
He nodded. “I do when I’m feeling nostalgic – or want to cut a dashing figure for a particularly attractive passenger.”
“Female, of course.”
“Of course.” Sam grinned.
“I imagine you’ve taken a great many female passengers up in your plane,” Kelly said, and felt an immediate, sharp twist of dislike for all of them.
“Actually I haven’t. In fact -” He paused, his gaze searching her eyes. “- you are the first one I’ve ever asked.”
She didn’t want to know that. Somehow it just made everything seem worse. Yet she managed a smile and a fairly even response. “In that case, I feel very honored.”
“I hope so.” A waiter walked purposefully among the party guests, carrying a silver triangle and striking it at intervals. “I think that’s our cue for dinner,” Sam remarked.
“And our cue to pack away our camera. Excuse me.” She moved off to rejoin her crew. She was safer with them.
Entwining silver grape leaves held the place cards in front of each table setting. Kelly found the one with her name and sat down, relieved to discover DeeDee on her right. Making social small talk with strangers was not her forte.
“Beautiful,” DeeDee murmured and nodded at the centerpiece before them, identical to others scattered along the tables. The silver epergne held cascading clusters of grapes, purple-black clusters of cabernet sauvignon contrasting sharply with golden-green bunches of pinot Chardonnay.
“It is.” Kelly glanced at the arrangement. “Hugh would certainly approve of it. He deplores the use of floral centerpieces at dinner parties. According to him, the fragrance of the flowers not only interferes with the flavor of the food, but it also affect’s the taste of the wine that’s served.”
“That sounds like Hugh.”
Kelly nodded and idly scanned the seated guests, pausing for a moment on Sam. He sat next to Katherine at the head of the tables’ horseshoe arrangement. The baron was on her right, and his wife next to him. Yet Sam was the only one Kelly noticed.
The sun had bronzed his skin and bleached his hair the color of light caramel. His brown eyes were only a shade darker. Even now, seated at the table, chatting with the woman next to him, there was an aura of calm about him that drew her, the pull of it as strong as the attraction she felt. Suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to get out of here, leave this party, this place, this valley.
Tomorrow. She could run tomorrow.
A waiter blocked her view as he leaned between her chair and DeeDee’s and poured a pale golden wine into DeeDee’s glass. Then he was on Kelly’s left, filling her glass, his actions repeated by a cadre of black-jacketed waiters serving the guests.
A hush settled over the tables when Katherine stood. She waited until she had the full attention of everyone, then began to speak. “I have invited you here tonight to welcome a special guest to our valley. For the last two centuries, the Fougere family has made great wines at their chateau in the Medoc. Wines we have all enjoyed despite the taste of envy they left on our tongues.” Her comment drew smiles and a few chuckles. “Baron Emile Fougere has continued his family’s proud tradition of making fine Bordeaux wines.” She picked up her wineglass and turned toward him, raising it in a toast. “To Baron Fougere. May this be the first of many visits he makes to our valley.”
Murmurs of agreement swept the tables as everyone stood and lifted their glasses to him before sipping the crisp Chardonnay. He rose and stood stiffly before them, then motioned them into their seats.
“It is the time, I think,” he said with a quick glance at Katherine, “when it should be known that two wine families Fougere of France and Rutledge of California – have agreed to link together and make one great wine from the grapes of Napa Valley.” There was a collective breath drawn at his announcement. The baron raised his glass. “To Fougere and Rutledge.”
Judging from Gil Rutledge’s expression and the ease with which he lifted his glass, Kelly didn’t think the news was any surprise to him. Oddly enough, the only involved party who seemed to be caught off guard by the announcement was Sam. Had he not known about it? Or simply not expected the announcement to be made tonight? Kelly couldn’t tell, his frown passed too quickly and the smile came too readily as he responded to the congratulations from the blonde beside him. She took a thoughtful sip of her wine as the baron sat back down.
“What name will you give your wine?” a reporter with a respected wine magazine asked. “Have you decided, Baron?”
“It will be Fougere-Rutledge,” he replied.
Smiling, Katherine immediately spoke up. “Or Rutledge-Fougere
“I think you’d better wait to print that, Ed,” Gil Rutledge declared in a joking voice, “until you find out who actually comes out on top.”
Clay laughed with the rest at his father’s comment, but unlike them, he knew his father wasn’t referring to the wine label but to the deal itself. To their knowledge, nothing was down in ink yet. Until it was, the battle wasn’t over.
A waiter set his appetizer in front of him, fresh scallops in a lemon-coriander vinaigrette, and Clay tried again to catch Natalie’s eye at the head table. It had been impossible to have a private word with her before dinner. Too many people had been around to overhear. But the look of anguish that had been in her dark eyes when she’d greeted him had reassured Clay that her husband’s decision had come as a total surprise to her.
Yet it worried him that she hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction. Surely she had noticed where he was sitting.
But the appetizer plates were cleared away and the medallions of lamb with an olive-anchovy sauce and fried artichokes were served before her gaze sought him out and clung for several seconds, a desperation in her eyes.
All his tension dissolved as confidence surged through him. She would slip away from the party to meet him. She would do anything he asked. The stupid woman loved him.
A little smugly, Clay ate his lamb and deliberately left his glass of cabernet sauvignon untouched. It was a Rutledge Estate Private Reserve, Madam’s wine. It would be as galling as swill, as far as he was concerned. But he drained the last drop of the sweet and icy Chateau d’Yquem, the creme de la creme of dessert wines, that accompanied the dinner’s final course.
After dinner, the party shifted to the gardens where a five-piece band played swing music, taking the place of the string quartet. When Clay spotted Natalie standing slightly apart from her husband, he knew he had his chance.
He strolled over and stood barely a foot away, facing the band and pretending to listen to the music. “Natalie, I have to talk to you. Don’t look,” he whispered in warning when she started to turn. “Just listen. On the other side of the house, there’s a trail that leads into the trees. Meet me there.”
“I cannot,” she whispered back. “Not, tonight.”
“It has to be tonight,” he told her. “It may be our only chance.” He heard her draw another breath of protest and said quickly, “If you love me, you’ll be there.”
The line was disgustingly old, but it never failed to work. Women were so easily manipulated by their emotions. Smiling to himself, Clay moved off before she could make any response.
A smile edged the corners of Katherine’s mouth as she scanned her guests. The announcement at dinner had everyone talking, instilling a sense of excitement in the air. She glanced sideways at Emile.
“We have created a stir,” she murmured. “Many expected an announcement, but very few thought it would come this soon.”
“I suspect your grandson was not entirely pleased to hear it. You have cause to have such faith in him.”
“Oh?” Katherine gave the sound a mildly curious note.
“I confess I questioned his ability for a time. I thought his nature was too placid, that he lacked your firm hand in running the winery. It is obvious to me now that I was wrong.”
“What changed your mind?” She studied him with new interest, piqued by the certainty in his voice.
“A comment he made to me the other day,” Emile replied and Katherine waited for him to elucidate. “He expressed his dislike that a Fougere would share the credit for a great wine made by a Rutledge. He had no care whether he offended me or not.” He gave a thoughtful nod. “He is not a man to back down from what he believes. That cannot be said for many men.”
Katherine had no reply. Anger had been her first reaction when Emile had revealed Sam’s comment. On its heels came a rush of questions and doubts, along with a growing sense of uneasiness. Had she misjudged Sam all along?
She thought back to her conversation with Sam a few days ago regarding Emile’s impending visit, remembering Sam’s unexpected boldness in bringing up her own lack of faith in his ability. At the time she had considered it childish, a totally inappropriate subject for discussion. But had it been?
And there was that shooting incident with Dougherty when Sam had rejected her recommendation to let the sheriff handle it and had gone there himself. She had viewed his actions then as motivated by a foolish sense of male pride, a need to prove his masculinity in the face of danger. Could it have been that he went out of loyalty, out of responsibility to his men?
And that suit against the Sonoma winery last winter; she had been angered by the weakness he had shown in reaching such a quick settlement and dropping the suit. The minute she learned of it, she had rescinded the power of attorney she had given him after she had been injured by the fall. In her eyes, he had displayed no stomach for a fight. And yet...he had saved them from a lengthy legal battle that would have been costly and time-consuming.
If she looked back further into past years, would she find similar incidents, actions of Sam’s that she had misconstrued? Age hadn’t dimmed her vision. But had it narrowed her mind? Suddenly Katherine was confused, uncertain.
“Do you hear that song, Katherine?” Emile murmured. “Natalie and I danced to it the night I proposed. I think I will find her and see if she would like to dance to it again.”
She responded with a nod, hearing his voice but nothing of what he said. She didn’t even notice when he walked away.
Kelly could have hugged Steve when he came over and asked her to dance to a slow song, rescuing her from a garrulous vintner who had been bending her ear for the last twenty minutes, telling her the story of his very dull life, naturally with the hope she would want to interview him for her television show.
“I’d love to.” Kelly grabbed Steve’s hand and sent a forced smile at her boring partner. “Excuse us.”
“Come back when you’re through. I’ve got more,” the man called after her.
She waved an ambiguous reply and followed Steve onto the portable dance floor on the grassy lawn in front of the vine-draped bandstand. Steve gave her a swing into his arms and started walking her around the floor.
“Great party, isn’t it?” He grinned at her in absolute sincerity.
“Great.” She smiled wanly, certain she was the only one who wasn’t having a wonderful time. DeeDee was over there laughing it up with a pair of transplanted Texans. Rick was talking woofers with a fading rock star who had become a little too respectable. As for Steve, she suspected he could have a good time at a cemetery.
“I like this song, don’t you?” Steve said and started singing the lyrics in her ear. Luckily he had a good voice.
As they started around the dance floor a third time, Sam stepped up and tapped Steve on the shoulder, his eyes on Kelly. “May I cut in?”
“Why not?” Steve shrugged.
In the next moment her hand lay on Sam’s shoulder, her other caught firmly in the grip of his fingers. Their steps matched, although Kelly didn’t notice. Never in her life could she remember being so totally aware of one person. Worse, she felt like the awkward, tongue-tied teenager she had once been.
“You didn’t mind my cutting in, did you?” His voice was a pleasant rumble. She could feel the vibration of it through his shoulder.
“No.” She continued to stare over his shoulder, watching the other couples moving around the dance floor.
She couldn’t completely relax in his arms, though she tried. But his body was close, and the pressure of his hand at her back possessive. She remembered the time he had kissed her, the needs he had aroused, that he still aroused. Just for an instant Kelly let herself wonder what it would be like to have Sam make love to her, to know the caress of his hands, and experience that rush of pleasure and release. But that would never happen; she couldn’t allow it.
“You’re very quiet,” he said at last.
“It’s been a long day.” Kelly grabbed at the first excuse and directed a quick smile at him. “I’m afraid the food and the wine added the finishing touches.”
The grooves that framed his mouth deepened. “In other words, ‘Show me the way to go home. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”’
She laughed and added the next line, “‘Had a little drink about an hour ago and it went right to my head.”’ But when she looked at Sam, it was more than the wine that was going to her head. She broke off the contact and murmured, “Now I know I’m tired.”
“The others in your crew don’t look like they’re ready to call it a night yet.”
Kelly spotted Steve squiring somebody’s wife around the floor, and smiled. “I have the feeling they’re ready to party all night.”
“If you want to leave before they do, I’ll take you home.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she warned lightly. “Or I just might take you up on that offer.”
“In that case what would you say if I told you I’d bring the car around right after this dance?”
Kelly hesitated only an instant. “I’d say yes.”
“Good. Consider it done.” His smile was impossible to resist.
With his head lifted, Emile moved among the guests, nodding to a few in his unconsciously aloof way and scanning the rest, searching for Natalie. By chance, he turned and saw her walking alone in the formal gardens. He immediately changed course.
“Natalie. Do you hear this music?” He spoke before he reached her. Startled, she whirled about, her crimson skirt fanning out like a flame. “We danced to this the night of our engagement. I have forgotten the name of it. I knew you would recall.”
She looked pale, stricken, uncertain as her fingers touched the pearls at her throat in a nervous gesture. “I...I have forgotten, too.”
“Shall we dance to it again?” he asked in his grave way.
There was a small, negative movement of her head. “It is almost over, I think. Perhaps another time.” She nearly managed a smile.
Emile caught the faint tremor in her voice and looked at her with an intensity that was uncommon to him. “Is something wrong? You seem pale.”
“No. I have a headache.” Her hand fluttered in dismissal of it. “The party, the noise, the music, it has made my head pound. That is all. I thought to come out here among the roses. It is quiet, a lovely respite.”
“Shall I have a waiter bring you something for your pain?”
“I have taken something already. Please do not concern yourself. I will be better soon. I am sure of it. You must return to your guests,” she said anxiously. “They have come to see you. You must not neglect them.”
“Very well.” But he was disturbed by her manner, her agitation. He considered it thoroughly as he rejoined the party, more deeply troubled than he chose to admit to himself. But it was the reason he kept the rose garden – and Natalie – in view.
Katherine stopped a waiter. “When you see my grandson, tell him I want to talk to him.”
“Yes, Madam.” With a nod, he moved off.
“What’s the matter, Katherine?” came Gil’s taunting voice. “Has Sam done something to disappoint you again?”
She made a slow pivot to face him. He stood off to one side, a brandy glass in his hand, an amused smile on his lips, and a loathing in his eyes.
“Fortunately Sam is not like you,” she replied, regarding her son coolly.
Hot color darkened his face and a vein stood out in his neck as he glared back at her. He took a quick swallow of brandy and made a visible attempt to control his temper. “Your party tonight is guaranteed to be the talk of the valley. But nothing is signed yet, is it? I plan to have a little talk with the baron tonight. Who knows? This could turn out to be the laugh of the valley.”
“I am in no mood to trade clever remarks with you tonight, Gil,” Katherine said, openly impatient with him. “For you, it was always personal, and it was never that. The jealousy that raged between you and your brother was destructive. Like the phylloxera that is killing your vineyards, it eats away at the roots and, in time, the vine itself dies. I could not allow it to continue. I had hoped that once you were on your own, you would see that. I was wrong.” She felt suddenly weary and sad – and old. “Jonathon is dead and you are still infected.”
“Is that how you justify throwing me out?” he demanded in a low and angry voice.
“You poor, angry old man,” she murmured and walked away, this time using the support of her cane.
Avoiding the guests, she headed for the terrace where the tables had been separated, some removed entirely and the rest left for those guests who preferred to sit and gossip. There were few of them. Lost in thought, Katherine almost didn’t see Sam as he strode across the fieldstones toward the terrace doors.
