“Sure,” Aidan said, looking across the field. “Here comes Darcy, so expect them to be on the Waterford Farm Instagram in the next hour. Puppies are social media gold.”
“I’m just going down to watch Liam’s bite training,” Daniel said, cocking his head toward a part of the property Grace had never been. “Come along.”
They went with him, making small talk as Grace took in the gorgeous colors of the trees and the crisp autumn air. At the bottom of a hill was another large and long pen, where three men, all in head-to-toe protective gear, worked with several big, menacing-looking German shepherds.
“So how are the plans for the big day going?” Daniel asked.
“Pretty well,” Alex said, “but in the process of getting ready, we realized it would be great for our clients to know a little of the history of Overlook Glen, to add color and depth to the event.”
Grace blinked at him, grateful for the smooth, if surprising, explanation.
“Great idea,” Daniel agreed, lifting his head as Gertie bathed him in doggy kisses. “This one is special,” he said.
“They all are,” she agreed.
“So,” Alex continued. “We were wondering if you knew the previous owners of Overlook Glen, since you’ve lived here your whole life. I believe the guy’s name was Hunnicutt.”
“George and Bonnie? Wasn’t that their name? He had a nickname, though.”
“Bib,” Grace supplied.
“Yeah.” Daniel snapped his fingers as the name clicked. “That was it. Bib Hunnicutt. Annie knew them better than I did,” he said, adding, “Annie was my first wife,” for Grace’s benefit. “They took one of her foster dogs, if I recall correctly, but then…” He frowned, shaking his head. “My memory is fuzzy on this, but I seem to remember they couldn’t keep the dog for some reason. Mind you, we are going back a good thirty years.”
“Thirty years?” Grace asked. That meant she would have been two, about a year before that picture had been taken.
He slowed his step and studied Gertie for a moment, obviously thinking. “Something like that. Maybe thirty-one. I seem to recall Liam was about ten, and Annie was fostering a snow-white American Eskimo named Candy that they wanted, but something happened, and they returned her to us.” He gave a soft laugh. “Not sure that’s the history or color you’re looking for, Grace, but beyond that, I didn’t know the family.”
“Do you know if they had kids?” she asked.
“I don’t, I’m sorry.” As they reached the fence, he lifted a hand and waved Liam over, who said something to one of the other trainers, then he took off his helmet, walking closer, greeting all of them with a simple nod.
“Hey, Liam,” Daniel said. “Got a challenge for you.”
Dark brows drew together as he looked from one to the other, then down to Gertie. “Sure, I’ll train her. I could have her sniffing out bombs and drugs in no time.”
Daniel inched the dog away as if he expected his bite-suited son to take her. “Not yet, you won’t. The challenge is to see if your memory is better than mine. I’m thinking of Candy, an American Eskimo your mother fostered.”
His eyes flickered with a genuine response. “I loved that dog,” he said. “Sweet and smart as a whip. Wasn’t happy when Mom adopted her out.”
“To the people who owned Overlook Glen, right?” Daniel asked.
“Yeah,” he said, looking at Grace. “In fact, I was thinking about it at the wedding. The place has really changed since then. You’ve done a great job.”
“Grace is looking for historical data on the property,” Daniel said. “Wondering if you can remember anything about the owners.”
He tipped his head, thinking. “Sorry, I was pretty young. All I remember is they sent Candy back after a week. I remember because I had to go out there with Mom to get her, and I was so happy, but damn if someone else didn’t adopt her right away.”
“So you were there?” Grace stepped closer to the fence, closing her fingers over the wire. “You met them? Did they have kids?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, sorry. To be honest, I only have one bizarre memory of that place.”
“What is it?” She probably sounded a little desperate, but didn’t care. She was.
“It’s strange.” He gave a dry smile. “Not sure it’s something you want to, you know, share with your clients. I just remember because I was a kid, and I must have gaped at the guy, and in the van on the way back, my mom lectured me about not staring at…imperfections.”
“Imperfections?” A cold chill ran up her back, and an image flashed in her head. That hand, holding hers in the cellar, that hand that was missing a…
“He didn’t have a thumb.”
“Oh.” The sound squeaked out, and Alex drew in a breath, too. “On his left hand,” she whispered. “That was Bib Hunnicutt?”
She felt Alex’s hand on her back add a knowing pressure, somehow connecting them in this new, thin, shocking line in her life’s story.
“Yeah.” Liam nodded. “I think Mom said he had an accident during a harvest one year.”
The chills wouldn’t stop, rising and falling up her back. That man who held her hand and protected her and made her feel so loved and safe was Bib Hunnicutt.
But who was he?
“And he owned the winery,” she said.
“Yes, and oh!” Liam’s face brightened. “His wife, Bonnie? She sent me home with a lemon bar, and to this day, I’ve never eaten anything that good.” He grinned at Alex. “No offense, Chef.”
“I remember the lemon bars,” she whispered, practically knocked over by the power of the memory.
“I didn’t realize you had a connection to the previous owners,” Daniel said, sounding surprised. “You spent time there as a child?”
“I did,” she said. “I’m just trying to piece the memories together.” She smiled at Liam. “You really helped, thank you.”
He nodded, then turned when the dogs barked behind him. “I gotta go. Good luck figuring this out.”
“Yes, of course, thank you,” Grace said, turning to Alex, certain her color was high as the news had left her head reeling and her heart pounding. “I remember the lemon bars,” she repeated, the revelation so powerful, she could feel tears threatening. A real memory from before any foster homes!
“I’ll have to make them for you,” he said.
For a moment, her whole world shifted in so many ways. There was a person, a connection, in the past. And the connection she was making—the one right in front of her—just said the kindest thing she’d ever heard.
All she wanted to do was throw her arms around him and never let go.
All of that—every dip on the emotional roller coaster—was terrifying and thrilling and real.
“Let’s get back to those puppies,” Daniel said. “And if you like, Grace, I can call a few acquaintances in town who knew the Hunnicutts and ask for more information.”
“Yes, please do.” She slipped her hand into Alex’s and squeezed, fighting tears of wonder and joy.
* * *
Grace on a mission was as attractive—maybe more so—than Grace dealing with her issues. Alex could practically feel her humming with determination as she coaxed him quickly out of Waterford once they got the puppies set up in the kennels for play, food, and rest.
Her eyes were the color of broken sea glass, sharp with focus and hope, as she left three messages for the real estate agent who’d sold her the property three years ago.
“I remember his hand. I can feel it holding mine,” she said, not for the first time, as they pulled up to the Starling Senior Living Center just north of town. “I knew this man, Bib Hunnicutt, and I trusted him.”
“Is it possible he was your grandfather?”
She closed her eyes. “Then why did I go into the foster system if they only died three years ago?” She glanced at him as they climbed out of his Jeep. “Why didn’t Bib and Bonnie Hunnicutt want me?”
“You don’t know
that they didn’t want you,” Alex said. “Maybe they didn’t know where you were.”
“But he knew where I was when he made sure I got his property.” She slipped her hand into Alex’s. “Maybe Mr. Corbell can help.”
Tugging her closer, Alex planted a kiss on her head. “You need answers.”
“Like I need my next breath,” she replied, leaning into him. “And if I don’t like what they are, then…I’m no worse off than when I didn’t have any.”
Jay must have told his uncle they were coming, because he showed up moments after the woman at the reception desk called his apartment, entering the lobby in a crisp white shirt, dark pants, and a jaunty red bow tie. His silver hair was thin to the point of baldness, but he’d combed the six or seven strands over his head and looked mighty happy to have company.
“So you’re the pretty lady who bought Overlook Glen,” he said, moving slowly toward them, slightly hunched by age. “My nephew tells me you’re doing a good job with the old place.”
“Hello, Mr. Corbell.” She shook his hand and introduced him to Alex, then they all sat in a small grouping of chairs near a window.
“We’re looking into the history of Overlook Glen,” she said without preamble. “Jay tells me you worked there years ago.”
“Harvests, mostly. Just when the hands had to come in. Mostly, they came from out of state or another country, then moved on, so you didn’t get the same men twice, but since I was a local, I went every year. I liked the Hunnicutts.”
She leaned forward. “Did you know them well?”
“Oh, well enough. Not like we had dinner or anything, but Bib, he paid on time, and Bonnie was so sweet. Loved to bake for the help.”
“Did they have children?” Alex asked.
Lou snorted. “Not sure Miss Celia was ever a child.”
“Who?” They asked the question at exactly the same time.
“Their girl, Celia. If ever there was a wild child, she was it. Trouble from the day she was born, as I recall.”
Grace just stared at him, speechless, her fingers digging into the armrests of the chair.
“What else can you tell us about her?” Alex prodded. “When she married? Where she lived?”
He drew his thick gray brows together. “I stopped doing their harvests and lost touch, but I can tell you that child never met a rule she wouldn’t break.” He started laughing, which turned into a cough.
“Can I get you water?” Grace asked, glancing at a table with small bottles of water.
He managed to nod, and as she got up, the old man watched her carefully, frowning. When she came back, he took the bottle, but he’d caught his breath. He pointed the bottle at Grace. “She looked like you,” he said. “You could be her daughter.”
“I think I am,” she whispered.
That made the old man slap one hand against his water bottle. “Well, howdy. And you bought the winery? How’s that for a neat little circle in life? So they left it to you, then. Very nice.” He studied her some more. “Course, I didn’t know your mama had a baby, but I can’t say I’m surprised. She did like the boys.” He gave a yellowed grin. “How is she?”
“She…passed away. Many years ago in an auto accident. I think.”
“Oh.” His whole face dropped. “Hadn’t heard that.”
But wouldn’t it be news if a local girl died in a car accident?
“She was always such a spirited thing. Coming down to the vineyards, wanting to help with the harvest. Course, her father wouldn’t let her on account of his accident.” He held up his thumb. “Never stopped him from hard work, though.”
“I don’t suppose you have any pictures of him, Mr. Corbell? Or of her as a child?”
Lips tight, he shook his head. “My wife was a cleaner-outer,” he said. “Never kept anything, didn’t put any sentimental value on much. When she passed, we had the emptiest attic in North Carolina. So, sorry. I don’t have anything from back in those days. Just my memories.”
“They’ve been really helpful, Lou,” Alex said. “Thank you.”
He grinned. “Bring me a bottle of wine one of these days, young lady. I might be able to dig up more memories for you.”
“I will,” she said, standing up as he did. “I promise I will.” In a move that might have been the most uncharacteristic thing Alex had ever seen her do, Grace reached out and circled the old man in a genuine and warm embrace. “And thank you.”
He patted her back and gave a smile over her shoulder at Alex. “She’s soft, you lucky dog.”
Alex just smiled. She was soft today, that was for sure.
After they said goodbye, he put his arm around Grace and walked her out. “So, what do you think, Gracie?”
She looked up at him, with a light he’d never seen in her eyes before. “I think…I woke up an orphan who’s spent all but the first few years of my life in foster homes with nothing that resembled a family. And now, because of you, I know I had grandparents who loved me enough to make my dream of owning a winery come true. I may never know why or how, but…I know who.” She stopped, turned, and wrapped him in a hug much like the one she’d given old Mr. Corbell. “How can I ever thank you for that?”
“You’re not going to quit looking for answers, are you?”
She inched back, her eyes misty. “Absolutely not.”
“Good, because I want to help you.”
“Why?”
He lifted her chin and kissed her lightly. “Because I like happy, sweet, soft, emotional Gracie.”
She melted into his arms with a sigh that matched her description perfectly.
Chapter Fourteen
Grace stared at the text from Donna Morgan, the real estate agent who’d found Overlook Glen for her.
No owners listed on contract. Calvin Etheridge had power of attorney over everything. Retired two years ago. His office is closed, phone number disconnected. You can try the North Carolina Bar Association—that’s my best idea. Sorry. Best of luck!
A mix of emotions swirled inside her. Retired and disconnected.
It was like the search for her family that had consumed her for a few years during graduate school. Always, always a brick wall forced her to stop. But this was one of the most tangible leads she’d ever had. This man had known her grandparents.
She’d find him. She had to.
The bar association wouldn’t be open until Monday, so she’d have to wait to make any calls. Anyway, Cassie Santorini was on her way over to discuss and plan her surprise wedding, and the big event eight days away was still Grace’s most burning priority.
But she had time for one thing. She tapped out a text to Alex, telling him the man’s name and sharing her excitement, finishing up just as the formal bell to the front of the winery rang.
When she opened it, she found Cassie in the doorway next to the Weimaraner whom Grace had seen at the restaurant earlier in the week.
“Jelly Bean’s the best man, and since Braden’s on duty at the fire station right now, this dog is my partner in crime. Okay if he comes in?”
Grace laughed and petted the sleek gray head, forcing herself to focus on the business at hand, not Calvin Etheridge, retired and disconnected. “He’s one of the most handsome groomsmen I’ve ever seen, and he’s more than welcome today and on your wedding day.”
“My wedding day.” Cassie let out a musical laugh, pushing some thick black hair over her shoulder. “I’m so in love with this idea, Grace. You can’t imagine how excited we are.”
“So am I. And very glad you could come today, because we have very little time left.” Grace tapped her heart as her chest tightened. “But we can do it.”
“I really don’t want you to worry about my end of things,” Cassie said, pausing in the reception area to take in the scope of the two-story room. “I love everything about this place,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper. “The minute I walked in here with my mom, I wanted to have my own wedding here, but…” She rubbed her fingers together in the u
niversal gesture for money.
“Not to worry about that,” Grace assured her. “I got a do-not-exceed budget for the ‘dry run’ from Blue’s people and…” She looked skyward with a laugh. “They don’t want to spare any expense. Even without exceeding, you’ll be thrilled.”
Cassie gave a little squeal. “I’m so happy. Does that mean I can pick some kind of gorgeous flowers?”
“Flowers, décor, cake, music, whatever you want. We’ve got the food and wine covered, obviously. Do you need a tour?”
“Jelly Bean does,” Cassie said on a laugh as the dog ambled toward the curved staircase and took one step up. “JB. Stay.”
Instantly, he turned around, returned to her, sat, and stared up.
“Wow, how do you get them to do that?” Grace asked. “I have three puppies in a crate in the back who mock me when I say ‘stay.’”
“First of all, your dog has to have a genius IQ.” She put her hand on Jelly Bean’s head and bent over to kiss him. “Which this man does. Forgive me if I brag, but there is nothing, and I do mean nothing, you can’t train this dog to do, as long as he doesn’t have to tell two scents apart. That is his only flaw.”
“And you definitely want him in the wedding?”
Cassie sighed and rubbed his head. “We kind of do. We have another dog, too, but Jazz is really a working arson dog and wouldn’t be right here. But JB? He’s the one who brought us together. Well, JB and our grandmothers.”
“Let’s go in the conference room and look at some ideas I pulled for you, and you can tell me that story.” She tossed a look over her shoulder at Cassie. “I definitely got the impression your grandmother is a bit of a matchmaker.”
“She is,” Cassie confirmed. “Along with Gramma Finnie. They call themselves the Dogmothers and are trying to pick up where my stepfather left off. He was the Dogfather. Have you heard of all his successes?”
“Bits and pieces,” Grace said as they entered the conference room, making the puppies clatter in their crate. “Here they are.”
Three Dog Night (The Dogmothers Book 2) Page 15
