Heard It Through the Grapevine

by Pamela Browning

  However, when he finally cracked open one eye, then the other, he saw only the curious face of the cat. Timothy was purring waves of stale tuna breath into Josh’s face and industriously kneading the bedclothes.

  With his hopes dashed, all Josh could do was dump Timothy off the bed and sneeze loudly.

  He heard Gina taking things out of the refrigerator and closing cabinet doors. “Gina?” he called. The cat glared at him balefully and, tail held high, marched out of the room in high dudgeon.

  Gina popped her head in the door. “Good morning, Josh. I had to get up to let Timothy in, and I’m fixing something to eat.” She swooped down upon him and kissed him on the lips. She tasted like toothpaste.

  He slid his hand up and cupped her breast, brushing aside her robe so he could kiss the rosy tip. The nipple hardened, and he said coaxingly, “Come back to bed.” Gina’s body was all he had ever imagined, and he could hardly wait to explore it more thoroughly.

  “I’ll be back with the breakfast tray,” she said, eluding his grasp. She hurried toward the kitchen, but by the time he had pushed himself up against the pillows, she had returned. The tray held a couple of warm brioches, butter stamped with a four-leaf clover and a bowl of pomegranates. Also coffee, which smelled wonderful.

  She perched on the edge of the bed while he dug in. He patted the blanket beside him. “Scoot over here,” he said. “You don’t need to be so far away.”

  She gulped down a few bites of the brioche. “I have to get ready. I don’t want to be late.”

  Late? Late for what?

  “Uh, maybe you’d better fill me in. Are we going someplace?” He’d promised to throw a few balls with Frankie later, but this was Sunday morning.

  “I’m going to church,” Gina said, wiping her hands on a napkin. It was made of cloth and had lace edges, he noted dimly, but this nicety paled against what she was telling him.

  “Church?” An entirely unwelcome idea, since he was of a mind to eat a quick breakfast and then make lazy love, lingering on all the fascinating bits of Gina’s body that might have gotten short shrift last night.

  “Angelinis always go to the ten o’clock mass.” She stood and walked to the closet, where she thumbed through a bunch of clothes before tossing a blue dress across a chair. She disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  “I don’t suppose you could attend a later one,” he ventured.

  Gina stuck her head out. “What? I can’t hear you when the water’s running.”

  “You could go to a later mass, right?”

  “Wrong. They’ll wonder what happened to me, and Mother or my sister will stop by to make sure I haven’t met with misfortune, and—I’m sure you get the picture.” Leaving the door open, she ducked back into the bathroom, and he heard her stepping into the bathtub and pulling the shower curtain closed.

  He wasn’t so hungry anymore. Nonplussed, he looked around at his surroundings, which he’d been in too much of a hurry to notice last night. Everything in Gina’s bedroom was a shade of yellow, from the palest buttercup, to darkest ochre. The bed was ornate brass, and the furniture, mellow pine. Somehow it all worked, and the yellow made him feel overwhelmingly optimistic in general, despite his disappointment about this morning.

  After a few minutes he got up, pulled on his shorts and padded over to the bathroom. Gina was humming to herself, her body slightly visible behind the shower curtain. He turned away from this tantalizing sight and leaned against the door frame.

  The dresser was beside him, and some papers were spilling out of a folder. The headings were in bold print: OPERATING EXPENSES, PROFIT AND LOSS, LAST YEAR’S PRODUCTION REPORT. He was seeing valuable information about the Angelinis’ winery. He stared for a moment, realizing that this was a true crisis of conscience. If he continued to look, he could report certain facts back to Walter and win Walt’s approval, not to mention his father’s. And if he didn’t? That would mean that he was more committed to Gina than to Walt, his father and Starling Industries combined. He felt frozen in place, unable to move.

  “Josh?”

  He heard Gina’s voice as from a great distance, stared at her blankly as her head emerged from behind the shower curtain.

  “Y-yes?”

  “Hand me that washcloth on the rack, will you, please?”

  He moved woodenly toward the washcloth, passed it to Gina. She smiled at him, pure sunshine. In that moment, he flashed back to last night, when she had been so eager, so willing. So sexy and beautiful and truly the woman of his dreams.

  “Thanks, Josh.”

  Her figure was outlined in the diffuse light coming through the bathroom window, and she was humming to herself. At one time, he might have been able to shrug off his feelings for her. He would have reminded himself that there were many beautiful women in the world and that they were his for the taking. But now he knew that only one woman had a profound effect on him, made him want to be a better man than he was.

  Slowly, he backed away from the folder on the dresser. If Walter wanted to find out the information contained therein, he certainly could. But he was not going to find it out from Josh.

  He sank onto the bed, feeling a sense of relief that he had resolved this issue. “Gina,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “How about if I go to church with you?”

  Silence greeted this suggestion. Then he heard the shower curtain pull back, and glanced up to see her studying him openmouthed. “You’re not Catholic, are you?”

  “On my mother’s side, but I was never confirmed.”

  “Oh. Well, even though you’re welcome to attend our church, we can’t walk in together. We can’t sit together.” She yanked the curtain closed again and resumed her shower.

  He considered this for a moment. “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because if we show up in each other’s company, my whole family will know what happened. I’d be embarrassed.”

  “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” He was unsuccessful at keeping his impatience out of his voice.

  “That we slept together. By this time, one of my aunts has called Mother and told her she saw us dancing at the street dance, and Frankie has mentioned to his dad that he ran into us and we were holding hands, and so on. People piece things together. You know.”

  He should have considered this. Her family seemed to be everywhere, all the time. He had no idea how many Angelinis lived in or near Rio Robles, but they all had two eyes, two ears and mouths that never stopped passing along family news. And he certainly didn’t want to upset Gina by appearing with her at church. He had never considered the family angle of courting Gina before, but clearly, there was more to it than he could have imagined.

  Gina stepped from the tub, all slick with water, her hair hanging wet down her back. He couldn’t stop himself from going to her and kissing her soundly, all thoughts of everything else forgotten for the moment. She responded with an eagerness that gave him a little hope for this morning’s agenda until she slipped out of his arms and said playfully, “I’ve got to blow-dry my hair. Scat.”

  “You talk to me like I’m the cat,” he said, adopting a mock-wounded air.

  “After last night, I know you’re a lot more fun,” she said, and then the sound of the blow dryer drove him away.

  He retreated to the bed, where he ate another brioche and started to peel a pomegranate. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind for the morning after. A pomegranate was hardly as mouthwatering as the real thing.

  GINA WAS ALMOST LATE for the service, but Maren had saved a place for her. Usually, her mother sat beside Uncle Fredo, but he wasn’t there today. Neither were two other key family figures: Uncle Albert and Uncle Anthony.

  “Where are the uncles?” Gina asked as she and Maren were walking out of the church.

  “An emergency meeting at the winery,” her mother said. “It’s about finances, of course.”

  “Oh, dear. Is there anything I should know?”

  “On
ly that Fredo asked for our prayers.”

  “I mean, anything new? I took a look at the report you brought over. I have to admit that I didn’t understand a lot of it.”

  Maren shook her head, her eyes serious. “Fredo’s worried about the heavy debt load. Albert says they need a serious infusion of cash.”

  “This is certainly nothing new,” Gina said grimly.

  “I know. Don’t worry. Fredo and company will come up with a solution. They always do.” Despite trying to put a positive spin on the situation, Maren didn’t fool Gina. The little creases between Maren’s eyes meant she was more concerned than she let on.

  Frankie, with Mia close behind, hurried toward them as they stepped out of the church into the open air. A large crowd stood milling around, many of them Angelinis. Some of them huddled together, speaking in low tones. They would be talking about the problems at the winery, reassuring one another that things weren’t that bad, reminding one another that Uncle Fredo always performed a miracle at the last minute.

  “Hey, Gina,” Frankie said, “any idea what time Josh is coming over today?”

  “Josh is coming over?” asked Rocco, coming up and flinging an arm around his son’s shoulders.

  “Yeah, I saw him and Gina last night,” Frankie said. “I asked Josh if he’d stop in to see us, and he said he would.”

  “You and Josh saw Frankie? At the street market?” Rocco’s eyes were keen upon Gina’s face.

  Gina, happy for a diversion from the winery’s problems, felt sure her cheeks were turning pink, but she reminded herself that Rocco couldn’t know that she and Josh had spent the night together. In any case, it wasn’t any of his business. Uh, right. Rocco was perfectly capable of making it his business.

  She cleared her throat before answering. “We stopped to talk with Frankie, but only in passing,” she said.

  Maren spoke up. “If I’d known you were going to go to the market on your way back from the picnic, I’d have asked you to buy me some pomegranates. They’re especially good this year,” she said.

  “You and Josh went on a picnic?” Frankie said with an air of dismay.

  “Well—”

  “A picnic without us?” Mia asked incredulously. “How could you?”

  “It wasn’t a kid kind of a picnic,” Maren contributed hastily.

  “Every picnic is a kid kind,” Mia said, pouting.

  “Not necessarily,” Gina said. “Anyway, when are we going to work on your science project?” She had promised Mia that she’d teach her about the medicinal qualities of the plants in her garden.

  “Can we do it this week?” Mia looked slightly mollified at the prospect.

  “Sure. Someday after school when your gramma is helping me in the shop would be good.”

  “I’ll be there on Tuesday,” Maren told Mia.

  Gina’s sister came to claim her daughter. “I hear Josh Corbett signed up for the bachelor auction,” Barbara said.

  “He did,” Gina said. “How did you find out?”

  “Shelley mentioned it to Rocco, who told me,” Barbara said. “Such a prominent bachelor should up the take for sure.”

  “I hope so,” Gina said, but her heart fell as it always did when she thought about Josh with another woman.

  “The teen center project will profit from the wine auction this year, too,” Barbara said. “They’ve agreed to give a chunk of their proceeds.” The annual Napa Valley wine auction was the major charity event in the valley, raking in millions of dollars and attended by everyone who was anyone in the vintner set, as well as a host of celebrities. Wine would be auctioned for humongous prices. It wasn’t unusual for a case of a particularly prized vintage to go for more than $100,000.

  “Too bad we can’t make Vineyard Oaks a beneficiary of the wine auction,” Gina said. It was a lame attempt at trivializing the winery’s problems. She knew, and so did Barbara, that all monies from the wine auction went to deserving charities in the valley. Vineyard Oaks wasn’t a charity, at least not yet.

  Barbara moved closer. “Some company has been making serious inquiries about buying Vineyard Oaks,” she reported in a low tone. “I overheard things while I was working in the office.”

  “No!” Gina said. Why was she so shocked? She’d known that was a possibility, yet it was certainly one that she didn’t want to contemplate.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” Barbara warned as they were approached by doughty old Miss Dora, who wanted Gina to tell her what herb she’d recommend for her grandniece’s morning sickness.

  Once Miss Dora tottered off, Gina looked for Barbara in the hope of resuming their conversation, but she had already left. “See you Tuesday,” Maren called as she went off to brunch with friends, and Gina, her heart heavy with Barbara’s news, walked slowly to her car.

  Who was sniffing around Vineyard Oaks? A local winery, hoping to expand? If so, surely she would have heard rumors. Or was it a large conglomerate? Or perhaps an individual? It didn’t matter; she took a fierce pride in the winery, and for it to pass out of Angelini hands was unthinkable. Unthinkable, but not impossible.

  When she arrived at her cottage, she was surprised to see Josh’s car still parked under the olive tree. She got out of the Galaxie and hurried inside, calling up the stairs as soon as she went.

  “Josh?” As she started to climb the stairs, she was halted by the sight of Josh standing at the top, wearing an apron and brandishing a vegetable peeler.

  “I’m cooking dinner,” he said. “Yankee pot roast.”

  It wasn’t what she had expected—she’d thought he’d left after she’d gone to church—but she laughed, glad to see him there in her kitchen, surprised at how pleased she was. “I didn’t know that cooking was among your talents,” she told him.

  “When I was living in Woods Mill, I had to learn. Come see what I’ve done.”

  He took her arm and propelled her to the stove, where beef, potatoes and carrots were all bubbling harmoniously in a pot.

  “Fantastic,” Gina said.

  “I thought maybe you could recommend some herbs from your garden to put in it.”

  “Perhaps basil and a bit of garlic. Honestly, Josh, I’m impressed.”

  “How about if you go out and pick the basil and I clean up the kitchen.” He hadn’t left it particularly neat; Gina spotted potato peelings on one side of the sink, carrot scrapings on the other, and a couple of measuring cups in the sink.

  “Good idea. You’re a great guy, Josh, but it looks like the Russian army just marched through here.”

  He curved an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Am I really a great guy?” he asked.

  She turned and slid both hands behind his neck. “That’s occurred to me in some of my not-so-sane moments,” she said.

  They kissed lightly. “I’d better change clothes before I head for the garden.”

  “You mean this is the second time in twenty-four hours that you’re going to take them off in my presence? How lucky can a guy get?”

  “Don’t get too cocky,” she warned. She twisted out of his embrace. “I let Timothy out when I left. Has he been around?”

  “I haven’t seen him. He’s in a snit because I’m competing for your attention. Maybe you’d better let him in.”

  “No, he’ll aggravate your allergy.”

  “I took a pill. He won’t bother me.”

  “Great.” She started for the bedroom, glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been allergic to women, have you?”

  “No, they’re the remedy, not the cause.”

  “You wish.”

  Josh only chuckled.

  Gina changed into jeans and a striped shirt, and threw a sweater around her shoulders to ward off the chill in the air. When she emerged from the bedroom, Josh was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Sunday paper.

  He looked up and let out a low whistle of appreciation when he saw her. “How about a walk while this is cooking? We’ll have plenty of time.”
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br />   “I thought you were supposed to go over to see Frankie and Rocco today.”

  “I called while you were at church and left a message that I’d drop by in the late afternoon. We’ll eat first.”

  “Okay.” She hesitated at the door. “Josh, it’s neat that you’re taking such an interest in Frankie. It means a lot to him.”

  “He’s a cool kid.”

  “It was hard on him when his mom died. Rocco’s needed all the help he can get. Barbara sort of took Frankie under her wing after she lost her son, and I’ve contributed what I can, but he’s at the age where he craves positive male role models.”

  “Rocco is that,” Josh said.

  “No doubt about it, but you know how it is with kids. Sometimes they latch on to someone outside the family circle, and it’s good. Sometimes it’s a teacher. Sometimes it’s a friend. You didn’t back off, and I thank you for that.”

  His eyes held a warm light. “No thanks necessary,” he said.

  She grabbed her basket from the top of the refrigerator. “I’ll only be a few minutes,” she said.

  “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  He’d be there when she got back. It was a comforting thought. The few other men she’d invited to stay the night had always rushed off in the morning. They had been relationships, not mere one-night stands, but no one had ever cooked for her and suggested hanging out together for the rest of the day.

  But then, Josh Corbett had always had a lot of class. That was one of the reasons she’d fallen for him in the first place.

  THEY ENDED UP WALKING ALONG the river, scuffing through fallen leaves and holding hands. One of the houses they passed was Judy Rae’s. Josh offered to show Gina his apartment.

  “Some other time,” she said. “I’m enjoying being outdoors on a beautiful afternoon. Besides, it might make me sad to see how it’s been divided up. I’d rather look at the outside of the house.”

  “The place must have been wonderful in its heyday. All those old parquet floors, and the light fixture in the dining room, and that big bay window overlooking the backyard.”

  “I always imagined that backyard overflowing with children. And pictured silk draperies at the front windows. Also a flower garden that bloomed all year round.” She laughed. “That’s what it’s like when you’re a kid. I was always daydreaming about how wonderful life would be when I grew up.”