Under A Harvest Moon

by Joleen James

  UNDER A HARVEST MOON

  A Novel

  By Joleen James

  UNDER A HARVEST MOON

  Copyright © 2013 by Joleen James

  All right reserved. Except as permitted under the U. S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is coincidental.

  Cover Art by Visual Quill

  This one is for The Village...you know who you are.

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  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Joleen James

  Table of Contents

  Dear Reader

  For as long as I can remember I've been in love with vineyards and the winemaking business. Under A Harvest Moon is filled with my passion for both. I loved doing the research. I loved traveling to vineyards all over Washington, Oregon, and California. I loved tasting the different wines. Mostly, I fell in love with the vineyards themselves; the beauty, the peace, and the passion winemakers have for the grapes.

  Recently, I traveled to Italy. I was lucky enough to visit several wineries/vineyards, big and small. No matter the size, each winery and the surrounding vineyard held all the charm and romance you can imagine. It's that charm and romance that I've tried to bring to this book. I hope you enjoy Nico and Danielle's story as much as I do.

  Thanks for reading!

  Joleen James

  Chapter One

  Early August -- Sun Grove, Washington

  Nico Delrosario popped a grape into his mouth, biting through the tough skin. Sour juice burst from the grape. He spat the bitter fruit out.

  "Well?" Phillip Whitney asked. He peered at Nico from under the brim of his worn straw hat, one gray eyebrow cocked against the glare of the late afternoon sun.

  "Not bad," Nico said, "considering we still have six weeks or more until harvest."

  "Good." Phillip gave him a slow nod before ambling on down the row, his eyes assessing the grapes. As the owner and founder of Whitney Vineyards, this harvest meant as much to Phillip as it did to Nico.

  Their wines were finally earning critical acclaim, their grapes producing some of the finest wines in the Sun Grove region. But always festering in the back of Nico's mind was the fear of one bad harvest. To be successful, they had to move forward, stay on top, be the best.

  Phillip pulled his refractometer from his shirt pocket. He plucked a handful of young grapes from the vine, shaking and squeezing them before he poured the juice into the meter to test the brix, the alcohol/sugar content of the ripening grapes.

  Phillip stared into the device. "Eighteen. Right on schedule."

  Nico ran a critical eye over the vines, the clusters of grapes, the supple leaves. As far as he could see the seventy-five acre vineyard thrived. The sight filled him with contentment, an emotion he'd rarely felt in the year since his divorce from Liz. Only in the vineyard could he forget the mess his personal life was in.

  Phillip moved on, his pace slow, slower than Nico remembered. He studied his mentor, his friend. Phillip stumbled. Nico quick-stepped, taking the older man's arm. The frailness of Phillip's bones under his loose-fitting white shirt startled Nico.

  "Too much sun," Nico stated.

  "Let go." Phillip shook his arm free, a scowl on his sun-browned face. "I'm not dead yet."

  "No, but I think it's time for a visit to Doc Waters."

  Phillip pursed his lips before saying, "I'm fine."

  Unconvinced, Nico said, "We should go back." He wanted to get Phillip out of sun and into his favorite rocker on the front porch of Whitney House. "It's almost four. Lola will have your supper ready in an hour."

  Phillip nodded, and Nico noted the bead of sweat that ran down the older man's temple. The golf cart they'd driven out in was still a good quarter of a mile away. He wasn't sure Phillip could make it back.

  "Wait here. I'll bring the cart closer," Nico suggested.

  "Go," Phillip said with an impatient wave of his hand.

  Phillip didn't allow coddling. Something was wrong. Alarmed, Nico took off at a sprint. It didn't take him long to reach the cart. Once inside, he turned the engine over and drove into the narrow row between the vines. The path wasn't wide enough for the cart here; canes snagged on the vehicle, snapping.

  When he didn't see Phillip standing on the path, Nico looked to the ground, locating Phillip's crumpled body.

  Nico hit the brakes. He jumped from the cart, dropping to his knees beside Phillip. "What is it?"

  Phillip's hand clutched at his chest. Pain clouded his brown eyes.

  "Your heart?" Nico yanked his phone from his pocket. He punched in 911. "This is Nico Delrosario," he said when the dispatcher came on the line. "I'm at Whitney Vineyards, 1500 Old River Road. I'm with Phillip Whitney. I think he's having a heart attack." He answered the dispatcher's questions about Phillip, and gave her additional directions to Block 8 where they were. The dispatcher told Nico to stay on the line. He set the phone down within easy reach.

  "Hang on, Phillip." Fear tightened his own chest.

  "I'm not afraid to die." Phillip's forehead wrinkled with pain. Sweat beaded his skin. "But I can't go, not yet. Danielle and I aren't finished. You and I aren't finished."

  "You're not going to die," Nico said with conviction. "I'll call Danielle. Ask her to come."

  Phillip moaned, his fingers clutching at Nico's shirtfront. "Tell Danielle I love her. I'm sorry, Nico. So sorry."

  Nico had no idea what Phillip was sorry for. In fact, from where he stood, Danielle owed her father an apology. What kind of daughter never called, never visited? Danielle had turned her back on her father. She'd squandered a life Nico could only dream about having. Danielle had broken Phillip's heart.

  "God forgive me." Phillip looked straight into Nico's eyes. "Forgive me, Nico."

  Phillip's eyes fluttered closed. Was he breathing? Nico's CPR training kicked into gear. He listened for Phillip's breath, checked for a pulse. Nothing.

  Frantic now, he began CPR. Where the hell were the medics? Please God, don't let him die. Not yet.

  Nico pumped Phillip's chest, working to save him, working to save the man who'd saved him.

  ***

  Two Weeks Later

  "I can't believe we're here," Danielle Whitney Rankin said. "I never thought I'd live at Whitney House again, yet here we are."

  She cast a glance over her shoulder at her ten-year-old son, Kaiden, who sat in the backseat of the Jetta. His eyes were still glued to his Nintendo DS, had been for the entire five-hour drive from Seattle to Sun Grove. She reached back and placed her hand over the game.

  "Game over," she said. "Let's go." She ignored Kaiden's scowl and climbed out of the car.

  Danielle paused. Whitney House, her childhood home. Painted a bright white with forest green shutters at the windows, Whitney House sat on a gentle rise, enjoying a full three hundred and sixty degree view of the valley and the Blue Mountains. Built in 1920, the farm house looked exactly as she remembered it. She waited for a rush of nostalgia, but none came. What would she find inside? Would the ghost of her father be waiting?

  Since Phillip Whitney's funeral two weeks ago, nothing had been the same. She'd had no time to feel, to adjust to her father's death, maybe because in so many ways, he'd already been dead to her. She functioned in a surreal state, waiting for the
sadness to come, but inside she housed a void, a hole in her heart that would never repair. Learning that she'd inherited Whitney House and the vineyard had been a shock, one she still struggled to recover from.

  A hot wind ruffled her hair, and for a moment Danielle pictured her father. He'd been the king of angry tirades when she'd been a girl -- all hot air and bluster.

  The wind gusted again, but this time Danielle breathed in the sweet scent of sun-warmed grapevines combined with rich, raw earth. How could she have forgotten the scent? The smell brought it all back, her parents, their fights, her own feelings of helplessness as she watched her life unravel. Betrayal surged through her, surprising her. After all this time her father's actions still had the power to hurt her.

  Danielle reached inside the car for her purse. She was being ridiculous. She wasn't a scared kid anymore, and she had plenty of battle scars from her marriage to prove it. She could meet her father's ridiculous demand that she stay in Whitney House for ninety days, then she could sell the place, take the cash, and start over somewhere far away from Sun Grove.

  There was no way she'd walk away, no way she'd let Nico inherit what rightfully belonged to her. Nico had taken her place here in more ways than one. When she'd learned how important he'd become to the vineyard and to her father, her heart had broken all over again.

  Danielle walked around the car to Kaiden. He unfolded himself from the back seat and got out, his trademark frown in place. She'd been getting the silent treatment since she'd told him about the temporary move here.

  "Help me with the groceries, please." She opened the trunk of the car.

  Kaiden lifted a bag from the trunk.

  He'd grown thin since the divorce, the dark circles under his eyes frightening Danielle. He wasn't eating or sleeping like he should. Danielle recognized the signs of depression. It terrified her to move Kaiden now when he was already so traumatized. She silently cursed her father for forcing her here. Even in death the man was manipulating her.

  Danielle looked across the lawn to the old barn. Two men stood in the doorway. Nico was unmistakable, with his dark hair and tall, muscular body. A straw hat covered the head of the other man, but she recognized him as the vintner, Jacques St. Pierre. Her father's attorney had filled her in on the winemaker. Jacques had obtained his degrees in viticulture and winemaking in Europe. The man had a resume that included working in Italy, Germany, and most recently in Napa Valley.

  The attorney also had filled her in on Nico. He'd had a stellar education, courtesy of her father. He'd attended the University of Washington where he'd earned a master's in biology. From there he'd gone on to take winemaking courses at the University of California, Davis. He'd worked his way up to Head of Production here at the vineyard, a prestigious job.

  Nico raised a hand in greeting and Danielle waved back. That was all he'd get from her right now. She needed to settle in before she spoke with any of them. She wasn't looking forward to telling the employees about her plans for the vineyard. Some of them had been with her father from the beginning. Danielle removed a bag from the trunk then followed Kaiden up the porch steps.

  "It's hot." Kaiden pushed his hair away from his forehead.

  "So you're speaking to me again?" Danielle glanced at him. His anger made her sad and filled her with regret, but she understood it. He blamed her for the divorce.

  When Kaiden didn't reply to her question, she said, "You're right. It's hot. I'll bet it's over ninety." The dry heat baked them, made it hard for Danielle to breathe. She wasn't used to such high temperatures anymore. Seattle had great summer weather with the temperature rarely climbing out of the eighties.

  "Unfortunately, it's going to get even hotter as the summer goes on," she said. "Once we're settled, I'll take you down to the swimming hole. There used to be a great rope swing. I wonder if it's still there."

  Kaiden kept walking. He didn't reply, but his anger silently vibrated between them. In his mind, she'd taken him from his friends and his father. Thankfully, Kaiden was unaware that she had no idea where Peter was. The snake had run off, leaving her to deal with the mess he'd made of their lives. She'd done her best to make excuses for Peter's absence, but the excuses had worn so thin they had holes in them.

  "I'm surprised Lola hasn't come out yet," Danielle said as they reached the door.

  Lola had been the housekeeper at Whitney House since before Danielle was born, staying on even after Danielle and her mother had left. She had her own rooms in the house and regularly declared she was going to be buried right here, on Whitney land. Lola had been like a second mother to her when she'd been a child, and Danielle wasn't looking forward to telling Lola that she'd lose her long-time home when the place sold.

  The front door opened, and Lola appeared. She wiped her hands on the apron she almost always had tied around her waist.

  Although she'd seen Lola at the funeral, tears pricked her eyes at the sight of the housekeeper. For Danielle, Lola was home. "Hi, Lola."

  She accepted Lola's hug, smashing the bag of groceries between them, while absorbing the scent of cinnamon and cloves that clung to Lola's clothes.

  "My Danielle." Lola's once black hair had turned gray, but her open smile and kind gray eyes were the same. "Welcome home. At last you are where you belong." Lola pulled back. She frowned. "You're too thin."

  "Stress," Danielle said with a shrug. She glanced over her shoulder at Kaiden. "Come and say hello to Lola."

  "There's my boy," Lola said. She hugged Kaiden so tight Danielle thought he'd protest, but he didn't. Lola kissed his forehead. "I swear you've grown since I saw you two weeks ago. I'm going to take such good care of you."

  Kaiden threw Danielle a look that said, help me.

  Danielle bit back a smile. Kaiden could use a little extra love right now, and Lola was just the person to provide it.

  "Come on inside." Lola placed her plump arm around Kaiden's shoulders. "Maria's here. I'll introduce you. She's Nico's daughter, and she's about your age. I just pulled a fresh batch of snickerdoodles out of the oven."

  "All right," Kaiden said without much enthusiasm.

  "Here," Lola said to Danielle, "let me take that." She took the bag of groceries from Danielle. Kaiden and Lola disappeared inside. Lola's chatter was a soothing balm for the tension that had been Danielle's constant companion for months now.

  Danielle turned back to the car to grab the rest of the groceries. One of the bags had spilled. She struggled to get all the apples back in the sack when Nico asked, "Need help?"

  She hadn't heard him approach, but recognized his voice immediately, the low timbre forcing a flood of unwanted emotions through her. Danielle jerked upright. She'd been dreading this moment, for more reasons than she could count.

  "Hello, Nico."

  "Danielle," he said softly. "Welcome home."

  Did he mean the words? She doubted his sincerity. Her presence here threatened everything he held dear. She'd seen him at the funeral, but they'd barely spoken. She had to admit he'd grown into a handsome man. His Italian and Hispanic heritage had given him his black hair and golden brown eyes, the color both rich and soft at the same time -- glowing eyes, filled with fire and the promise of something a little wicked. How many times had she wanted to just sit and stare into his eyes as a teenage girl?

  Nico smiled at her, and it was the same indulgent smile he'd given her when she was fifteen and so in love with him her stomach ached. Oh, how she'd longed for him to notice her!

  Annoyed with herself for letting him get to her, Danielle lifted the bag of groceries. "It seems you and I have a lot to talk about."

  He nodded, but Danielle didn't miss the way his mouth tightened. "Yes."

  "I want to get settled first," she said, "but I'd like to talk tonight, to fill you in on some things before I meet with everyone else."

  "Whenever you're ready." He pointed to the groceries. "Can I help?"

  "I'm fine." She wished they were on better terms. They were both victims of th
eir parents' mistakes, yet that didn't make being with Nico any easier. "But thanks for the offer. I'll see you later."

  Her arms full of groceries, ignoring the pang of guilt in her chest, Danielle left Nico and headed up the stairs to Whitney House.

  ***

  Danielle lugged the last box into her bedroom and placed it on the floor with the others. They hadn't brought much with them because there wasn't much left to bring.

  "That it?" Lola asked, coming in behind her.

  "Yes. I sure don't have a lot to show for twelve years of marriage."

  Lola touched her arm, the gesture comforting. "How were you supposed to know Peter was a snake?"

  Danielle's lips twisted in a wry smile. "I should have been smarter. All the signs were there. He'd come home late, reeking of cigarette smoke, booze, and sometimes cheap perfume. I knew he was gambling. I just didn't realize how bad it was."

  "You trusted him, honey," Lola said with sympathy.

  "I was a fool. I won't make that mistake again. I don't need Peter or any man. From now on I'm relying on myself, no one else. Peter left us one step away from welfare and food stamps. Truthfully, coming here was the answer to my prayers. I didn't even have enough money to make rent this month."

  "What's your mother think of all this?" Lola asked.

  Danielle shrugged. "She's furious that Dad put restrictions on the inheritance. But you know her. She never has anything good to say about him."

  Lola nodded. "The two of them are like oil and water; they sure don't mix." She chuckled. "Main thing is, you're here now, where you belong."

  She didn't belong here, but she'd never say so to Lola. She just wanted to do her time, and then get out with enough money to take care of Kaiden.

  "Well, I'll leave you to your unpacking. Night, honey."

  Danielle embraced Lola. "Good night. Thanks for everything."

  Lola gave her a nod and a smile then left.

  Danielle glanced around her childhood bedroom. The old maple furniture looked exactly the same. Her twin bed, complete with a princess canopy, was placed between the windows. Two dressers, one with a mirror, stood against the far wall. Next to the bed was her nightstand. A white bedspread with pink hearts covered the bed. A poster of a teenaged Kirk Cameron hung on the wall near the window. On the opposite side of the room John Stamos smiled at her, both posters reminders of her teen years. The walls were painted Pepto-Bismol pink, a color she wasn't too fond of now, but what was the point of repainting? She wouldn't be here long enough for the color to matter.