Three Dog Night (The Dogmothers Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Because you need to see what it says.” He put a hand on her leg, pressing lightly. “Brace yourself, honey.”

  Swallowing hard, she turned it over and read the scripted handwriting in faded ink.

  Celia and Gracie Overlook Glen Harvest Oct. 1988

  She stared at the words, so utterly and wholly wrong and impossible and… “What?” She choked. “How is this possible?”

  She’d never been here before. She had no ties to this winery. She’d found it by luck…hadn’t she? She could still remember the call from her real estate agent, who’d gotten hold of this gem of a listing she could snag for a song.

  Chills exploded all over her body.

  This couldn’t be a coincidence. Not even a chance. Then…who? Her mother? Her grandfather? Who wanted her to have this property, but hadn’t wanted to raise her?

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered as her head grew light, and the world seemed to black out around her. “I don’t…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t handle this right now, Alex. We have wine to deal with.”

  * * *

  Grace thought he was strong and relentless? Alex watched in awe as Grace moved through what had to be the most difficult day in a life that had clearly had its fair share of difficulties. Nothing—not even discovering lies and truths so deeply intertwined that it was impossible to tell one from the other—would stop the process of barrel-aging the rest of the wine that had been pressed the day before.

  Through it all, her back was straight, her jaw locked. Her pretty mouth stayed tight, and her aquamarine eyes had lost all the luster he’d enjoyed the night before. Even her approach to bottling was different than yesterday’s.

  Maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed more scientific today, too. She clung to her notes and used calculus—literal calculus, on a piece of paper with a calculator—that turned winemaking into math, with formulas for carbon dioxide and airlocks and measurements of oxygen molecules.

  He got it, though. Science made sense to Grace Donovan, especially when a thirty-one-year-old photograph and the writing on the back made none.

  She’d been born here? Her mother had lived here? Or she’d visited, at least. There was obviously some connection with the winery she’d acquired by what she’d thought was luck and timing. So, who was pulling the strings and why?

  If Alex wanted to know, he couldn’t imagine the need for answers that burned in Grace. She might cover it with math and stoicism, but he knew that under that cool surface, she was churning. And all he wanted to do was help her figure it out.

  Because he’d felt the revelation rack her body, and he’d heard the sobs he’d finally helped calm to a whimper. He’d waited outside her room while she washed her face and dressed, and he’d marveled when she stepped out with that mask firmly in place, refusing to discuss what that picture had revealed.

  Other than a woman who looked very much like her and was named Celia and had to be her mother.

  But while they transferred the wine into waiting oak barrels and rolled them into open slots in the cellar, all those questions plagued him, too. And no matter how sleep-deprived he was, he cobbled together a plan to find out the truth. She deserved that and nothing less.

  As he and Ryan returned from the cellar, having stored the last of the barrels, the sun was dipping, but the day wasn’t done. He found Grace at the picnic table, playing with the dogs, whispering to Gertie.

  When he slid next to her and smiled, she just looked at him.

  “Gracie,” he whispered, getting a kick of pain when she flinched a little at the name. “Let’s start with the real estate agent who listed the house. Do you know who that was?”

  She bit her lip, nodding. “It must be on the contract, right? My agent handled everything. It was fast and easy and…” She closed her eyes. “Purposeful.”

  “Can you reach your agent?”

  “I should be able to. Her name’s Donna Morgan, and she’s with a huge national firm, but her office is in DC. She actually specializes in winery properties, mostly in Virginia, but also all over the East.”

  “Let’s call her, and if she doesn’t know the previous owner’s name, then get the listing agent. You have every right to know who owned this property before you.”

  Just then, Jay came closer, wiping his brow and opening a bottle of water. “Bib Hunnicutt,” he said, angling his head in a silent apology that acknowledged he’d overheard their conversation. “Is something wrong, Grace?”

  On the bench, Grace’s fingers curled around Alex’s hand, squeezing him. “Bib,” she whispered, paling a little.

  “That’s what everyone called him,” Jay said. “Old Bib, which must have been a nickname for something that’s long forgotten.”

  “You knew him?” she asked, her voice stretched thin.

  “Nah, but my uncle knew the Hunnicutts pretty well. Him and his wife, Bonnie. People talked around here when they died within a year of each other. Cancer, both of them. They say she knew she had it, but didn’t tell him or do anything about it. She just nursed him to the end, then hers was so far gone, she died about eight or nine months later.”

  “When was this?” Alex asked.

  He shrugged. “They died a little over three years ago, I guess. They pretty much kept to themselves, though. Didn’t socialize much with neighbors or folks in town.”

  “I…had no idea who owned this property,” Grace said after processing all that. “My Realtor just told me the owners had both passed, and an attorney was handling the sale.”

  “Then we’ll find that attorney,” Alex said softly, getting a slightly surprised look from Jay.

  “Was something wrong with the barrels? The press? What’s your issue with the Hunnicutts?” Jay asked.

  “Curiosity,” Alex answered easily for her. “I’m fascinated by the history of this winery and the families who’ve owned it in the past.”

  “You could talk to my uncle,” he said. “He worked here back in the seventies and early eighties.”

  “But not 1988?” Alex asked.

  Jay frowned. “I’d have to check,” he said. “Seems to me he moved to another place in the mid-eighties, but sometimes his stories all ramble together. He’s eighty-two now, and I don’t always, you know, pay attention.”

  Alex gave him an understanding smile. “Does he live around here, Jay?”

  “Oh yeah. He lives just outside of Bitter Bark in that Starling apartment complex for seniors.”

  “Do you think he’d talk to us today?” Alex got a quick look from Grace. “Why wait?” he asked.

  Jay looked from one to the other, nodding slowly. “I can call him and tell him you want to stop by. Just remember, his memory is a little shaky at times. Although, he usually remembers the weather fifty years ago, but he can’t tell you what he had for breakfast.”

  “We’ll be gentle,” Grace said, turning to him. “I do need to know the history of the family that owned this winery.”

  “Sure thing. And good news, we’re done with the barrels,” he said. “Ryan and I will handle the cleanup, if you like.” He waited a beat. “I’ll call my uncle.”

  He stepped away, pulling out a cell phone. Alex slipped his arm around Grace and eased her closer. “I’ll drive you there. On the way, we’ll call the agent who sold you the property. We’ll ask all over town until we figure this out. We’ll find out who your mother was.”

  Just then, Gertie climbed up on Grace’s lap for some love. “And I thought we just wanted to find their mother.”

  “Her, too,” he teased lightly.

  She was quiet for a moment, then leaned away to look at him. “Bib. I remember that name. I remember saying it. Bib.”

  “Maybe you do have family, Grace.” And if so, there was nothing he wanted more than to help her find out about them, even if they were gone.

  But that just made her look sadder. “If I do, or did, they didn’t want me. Why not?”

  “We have to find out the whole story
before we start making assumptions.”

  “But I don’t want to—”

  He put a hand over her lips. “This isn’t foster families in California. This is the reason why you bought this winery, which has a connection to your birth and your mother. You have every right and reason to find out what it is.”

  She just stared at him.

  “And who knows?” he added. “It might lead you to Bitsy and Jack.”

  Her eyes filled as she put her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you. I know it’s going to hurt like a bitch at some point in time, but this is the kindest thing anyone’s ever done, and I…you…we…”

  “Shhh.” He pulled her into him and kissed her forehead. “One emotional land mine at a time, sweetheart.”

  She melted a little in his arms, then looked up at him. “I’m scared about what I’m going to find out.”

  “Hey, what’s that saying? The truth will set you free.”

  “Or shatter you into a million pieces, never to recover.”

  “There’s the attitude.” He tapped her nose.

  She managed a shaky smile as Jay came back over, holding a piece of paper. “He’s very excited to have company,” he said kind of sheepishly. “Guess I should visit him more often. His name’s Lou Corbell.”

  Alex took the paper. “We’ll give him your best, Jay. And thanks.”

  A few minutes later, they were headed to Bitter Bark with the dogs in the back and hope in their hearts.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “First stop, Waterford Farm.”

  Grace turned to look at Alex, blinking away the fog that had descended over her throughout the day and refused to budge. She wasn’t sure she could take an onslaught of Kilcannons, Mahoneys, and Santorinis right now. “Why?”

  “I texted my mom, and she reminded me that Daniel Kilcannon has lived here his whole life, and—”

  “You told her?”

  “Not in detail. I texted her earlier today and told her we found something at the winery that has made it urgent you learn more about the previous owners.” He slid her a look. “We tell each other everything in my family.”

  “Well, obviously, in mine? We don’t.” She heard the bitterness in her voice, but didn’t care.

  “Hey.” He closed his fingers around her hand. “We’re in this together.”

  “Thank you.” She turned and looked out the window at the passing fall colors, thinking about…everything. “I wonder how long I lived here. If I lived here. If the Overlook Glen people were family or friends.” A punch of pain hit her chest. “There is really nothing worse than not knowing your roots or history.”

  “Yes, there is.”

  She looked at him, not sure what that would be.

  “Grace, you just found a connection to the very home where you live. Someone, somewhere had to have orchestrated your purchase of that winery, and they did it, I’m guessing, because they loved you.”

  “Or felt guilty as hell.”

  “Or missed you. Maybe they watched you all your life, but for some reason you don’t know, couldn’t reach out to you.”

  “Creepy.”

  “The point is, you ended up exactly where you belong, and that should fuel your fire to make Overlook Glen a world-class winery and event venue, just to make all that worthwhile.”

  His voice deepened with passion, and his vision, when articulated, made sense. Kind of.

  “I don’t doubt you want all the answers,” he continued. “And I’ll help you find them. But you were a baby at Overlook Glen, and now you’re the owner, and that should give you some kind of, I don’t know, circular joy.”

  She gave his hand a squeeze. “I love your attitude about life, Alex. I’d love for it to rub off on me.”

  He smiled back. “Let me rub.”

  She laughed, possibly for the first time since he’d stood in front of her with a photograph that changed her life. “What else was in that drawer?” she asked.

  “Blank labels. The picture was caught in the side, slipped down and almost invisible. I don’t even know how I saw it.”

  “I’ve been in that file plenty of times,” she said. “But I never really looked much in that bottom drawer.”

  “Did you clean out the whole office? Search for anything else?”

  “It was empty when I moved in, except for the label drawers and some files that I don’t think I kept.” She grunted. “Damn. There could have been answers in those files.”

  He patted her hand. “We’ll get answers, Gracie. We won’t stop until we get answers.”

  A wave of appreciation and affection rolled over her, making her eyes well for the fortieth time that day. “Why?”

  “Because you need them,” he answered without a moment’s hesitation.

  “No, I mean, why are you helping me? Because you want to sleep with me?” The question was out before she could check herself, and the look she got nearly gutted her.

  “Do you really think that’s what I’m made of?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t, and I’m sorry I even said that. I just…I’m not used to people caring.”

  “Because you don’t let them.”

  She ran a hand through her hair and let the truth hit her. “I told you, it’s hard for me. I made connections at every family as a child. I tried. I hoped. I let people in, and then wham, I got sent away.” She mentally swore at the crack in her voice, sick of her own sob story. “All I’m saying is trust doesn’t come easy, and emotional connections are scary to me.”

  He took her hand again, holding it with that relentless grip of his. “They’re scary for everyone.”

  “Have you ever been hurt? Abandoned? Left behind?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “My dad died holding my hand,” he finally said. “He was my hero. Bigger than life. The one person I wanted to impress. He was…everything to me.”

  There was every bit as much pain in his voice as hers.

  “And because of that,” he added, “I feel paralyzed in my job. Unwilling to hurt him, even though he’s gone, by pursuing my own dreams because I think it will be an insult to his.”

  She stroked his knuckles with her thumb, wanting to offer sympathy, but not entirely sure how to do that. “I’m sure he was very proud of you and would have supported whatever you wanted to do.”

  His only response was a tight smile and a nod as they pulled into Waterford Farm. “He’s gone, so I’ll never know.”

  The canine rescue and training work was in full swing, with at least a dozen dogs of various sizes romping around in what looked like chaos in the main pen. But there were enough trainers in there for Grace to guess it was at least controlled chaos, with tall, handsome Shane Kilcannon in the middle, calling out orders to the trainees and their dogs.

  Darcy darted by with a quick wave, two standard poodles on leashes with fresh coiffed hair, and a small group stood outside the veterinary office with a few more dogs. Even from the distance, Grace could make out the youngest of the Kilcannon brothers, Aidan, deep in conversation with his brother Garrett and his father, Daniel.

  As if sensing they were in a place for even more fun, Gertie, Jack, and Bitsy woke up and started barking and clawing at their crate, ready to play.

  “When we head out to Jay’s uncle’s place, let’s leave the dogs here,” Alex suggested as they parked. “We might not be able to bring them into the apartment complex.”

  “Good idea.” She turned and smiled. “They won’t mind.”

  It was a challenge even leashing the squirmy, excited pups, who wanted to shoot out of their confinement and wreak havoc on the training pen. But Grace and Alex managed to carry the puppies so they didn’t come into contact with the grass, where they could contract a disease. They walked to where Daniel and his group stood on the porch in front of the vet office, all surrounding a big black dog, who sat obediently while they talked.

  After saying hello, Aidan
put his hand on the dog’s head. “You’re just in time to say goodbye to Rio the Rottie. I’m flying him to Savannah in about an hour to take him to a new home.”

  “Hello, Rio the Rottie.” Grace bent over to put a hand on his massive head, getting the sweetest look in return. That didn’t last long, though, as the three puppies instantly squirmed and barked, demanding the dog’s attention.

  “They can play with him,” Daniel said, taking Jack from Alex’s arm. “They all love it.” He set the puppy down on the wooden slats of the porch, so Alex did the same, and suddenly puppies were all over Rio, licking, clawing, and demanding his attention. But Gertie was clinging to Grace for dear life, so she held on to the puppy and watched the others.

  Jack jumped up, and instantly Rio dropped to the ground, rolled over, and stretched out as if he were their personal playground.

  And the only thing anyone could do was laugh, which felt so good to Grace.

  “They’re obviously getting well socialized,” Daniel said, reaching to pet Gertie. “And how’s this pretty girl doing?”

  “She’s a little shy,” Grace said, sounding a lot like a mom making excuses. “But sweet as can be.”

  “Please tell me you’re here because you changed your mind about letting them be adopted individually,” Garrett said. “I have a family that desperately wants one, would take two, but refused three.”

  Grace looked up at him. “I can’t separate them.”

  Without hesitation, Alex put a strong and supportive arm around her shoulders. “I’m not even sure we can part with them at all.”

  At the quick and surprised look they all gave him, he must have realized he’d said we and held up a hand. “They’re a major part of the big event,” he added. “We’ve even named the exclusive wine after them.”

  “So what brings you two out here?” Daniel asked.

  “Actually, we hoped to talk to you,” Alex said. “Do you have some time?”

  “Can I bring this angel?” he asked, reaching for Gertie, who went to him without hesitation.

  “I don’t think they’ll miss her for a few minutes.” Grace pointed at the tiny puppies literally walking over Rio’s belly, making the big dog let out a musical whine. “Is it okay to leave them here?”