Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7)

by Pamela Aares

  Adrian groaned. Coco shot him a mock glower.

  “It’s a perfect occasion for you to meet the woman of your dreams,” Parker said with a grin.

  “Except all he dreams about are vineyards and profit-sharing,” Coco added with a huff.

  A wry smile curled into Parker’s lips. “Think of it as saving the world one party at a time.”

  “Parties aren’t really my forte,” Adrian admitted.

  “Well, it’s a full moon, lots of magic afoot and you can stay masked until midnight. You can pretend to be a party animal.”

  Adrian took Parker’s ribbing in stride. His cousin had been a rock-solid friend to him and his siblings since they’d moved to Sonoma. He’d helped design the gift shop for the vineyard and the remodel of the tasting room. He’d stood by Zoe when she’d bucked their father’s plans and even helped her design the interior of her gallery in Rome.

  “Play a hard game of polo this afternoon,” Parker added, “get the blood going, and then work your charm tonight. You do still have some charm in there somewhere, right?”

  “Unlikely,” Adrian responded. “Charm is your realm, Parker. There wasn’t any left over for the rest of us.”

  Parker laughed and nodded toward the duffel Adrian held. “I rented you the Forces of Darkness costume. All Black. Intimidating. No one will ever guess who you are. You’ll have a blast.”

  Coco tapped the duffel. “This I have to see—my irrepressibly sunny brother masquerading as a shadow force? Could set a new trend in the family.”

  A masquerade was the last thing Adrian was up for. He had a bad feeling about the whole damned event.

  Chapter Three

  NATASHA STASHED HER GARDENING gloves in the pocket of her jeans and followed Tammy, the lively woman who’d hired her on the spot that morning, down the path leading to the gift shop and the main offices of Casa del Sole Vineyards.

  After she’d bundled Tyler off to school that morning, Natasha hadn’t imagined that by lunchtime she’d have a job. And not just any job—head kitchen gardener for Casa del Sole. A perfect job.

  Natasha ogled the lush landscape paintings on the walls in the opulent gift shop and ran her fingers along the polished wooden tables artfully arranged with wine, olive oil and beautifully packaged soaps and lotions.

  Tammy motioned Natasha into an airy office overlooking the newest vineyard. “We’re thrilled that Mary found you for us,” she said. “Ilona left without notice. Ran off with one of the visiting polo players from Argentina last week. Not that I blame her. The man was hot, rich and gorgeous. Working in a garden can’t compete with that.”

  Though Tammy laughed, Natasha could hear from her tone that she was peeved.

  “Your references are stellar. Fairland Garden’s loss is our gain. But I am sorry they went out of business after all these years.” Tammy pulled some papers from a pile on her desk. “I told you about the health plan, right?”

  Natasha nodded. Having health insurance for her and Tyler was a perk she hadn’t imagined.

  “Most companies require a ninety-day waiting period, but Mr. Tavonesi insists that benefits start on day one. As do the employee profit shares. With each paycheck you’ll earn one fifth of a share, just like everyone else employed here.” She held out the papers. “Just fill these out and return them in the morning.”

  Natasha let out the breath she’d been holding ever since Tammy had picked up the forms. At least she’d have a chance to go through them line by line, unobserved, and get some help filling the forms out from one of the women at the shelter or as a last resort, from Tyler. But Tyler was beginning to catch on that her requests, camouflaged as homework enrichment exercises, were far more than that. Someday she’d have to tell him she could barely read. But she’d put that day off as long as she could.

  “You can head over and watch the polo match later this afternoon if you’d like,” Tammy said. “Most of the staff will attend. We always break for the matches. Unless it’s harvest season.” She shook her head. “You’ll soon discover that the Tavonesi family is mad about the game. Imagine—polo in Sonoma. Next it’ll be Rolls-Royces and helipads.”

  Other than logos on sports shirts, Natasha knew nothing about polo. And though curious to see a game, she had a more important mission on her mind.

  “If it’d be okay, I’d like to pick my son up from school. It’s his first day and—”

  “Go! Nothing worse than being the new kid. I attended six schools before seventh grade—my dad was an Air Force pilot, so we moved a lot. Those first days as a newbie can be tough.”

  Tammy handed Natasha a set of keys. “These are to this office, your locker, and to the toolsheds. They’re labeled and color-coded.”

  Natasha said a silent prayer for color-coding. It had saved her more times than she wanted to remember.

  Tammy pulled a rolled tube of paper from her desk. “And here’s a map of the preliminary plantings that Ilona put in. You can meet the vineyard chef in the morning. He’ll give you the rundown on what else we need in the garden and the rotations for the menus according to the seasons.”

  The panic skittering in Natasha’s chest must’ve shown in her eyes because Tammy quickly added, “Don’t worry—there’s an organic market ten minutes down the road. If we’re short on something, it’s not a disaster. But we do like to make the staff lunches from the kitchen garden. And the Tavonesis living in the main house prefer to eat their own produce as well.”

  Tammy rolled the paper and then tucked the tube into a wooden cubby. She nodded toward a desk near one of the windows. “If you need access to a computer, you can share that one with me. Just let me know if you need anything we haven’t provided. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning. Sharp. One thing Mr. Tavonesi does insist on is that we start on time.”

  A computer was one thing Natasha hoped she wouldn’t need. Words scrambled fast on a screen, faster than on a printed page.

  She thanked Tammy and headed to her car. Tyler had been on her mind all day, and Tammy’s reminder of how tough it was on kids to change schools had zinged home. It didn’t matter that Paseo Country Day School was a great school—the best in the region, Mary had told her—it was new and Tyler was an outsider. At least he had an open mind. And unlike her, he was a natural extrovert. Some days she wondered about the genes he’d gotten from his father. But most days she was glad Tyler bore little resemblance to the man who’d given his DNA to the mix. Some scars ran deep, even if they didn’t show on the outside.

  Tyler waved as Natasha pulled up to the curb in front of his school. He tossed his bulging backpack into the back seat and scrambled into the passenger seat beside her. He was tall for his age, tall enough that he’d graduated to sit in front the previous year.

  “Mom, they have three baseball fields here! Three. And they have a school team. I’ll be on the nine-to-twelve-year-old team. I won’t be the youngest. Not anymore.”

  He chattered all the way back to Inspire. They might be living in temporary quarters in a homeless shelter, but at least she’d realized one of her dreams. Getting Tyler into a school where he had good teachers and great programs and facilities was what had set them on their current path. She regretted her foolish gamble, but she didn’t have to feel guilty about this particular outcome.

  “Hey, there’s Mark,” Tyler said as they parked in the lot behind Inspire. “Can I go throw with him?”

  “You must have homework.”

  “C’mon, I can do it later. I promise. Promise.”

  She couldn’t refuse. Mark and his mom had the room next to theirs, and the boy was just a year older than Tyler. Making a new friend was probably just as important as homework.

  Tyler unzipped his pack and pulled out his baseball glove. It was worn and nearly too small for his growing hands. When she got her first paycheck, she’d surprise him with a new one.

  She watched as he bounded across the field and caught up with Mark. And she felt wistful for a moment, envious at how quickly
children could make friends. She gathered the forms Tammy had given her and shouldered Tyler’s backpack.

  The main room that served as a dining and living room at Inspire was vacant. Evidently the other women were still at their jobs. Natasha pulled her keys from her pocket and headed down the hall to the room that was the only home she had. Mary met her at the door.

  “I was hoping they might let you off early—first day and all that. I have a surprise for you.” She held out an envelope. “Tickets to the Fantasia Masquerade tonight. My husband forgot to mention that his mother’s birthday party was rescheduled for tonight, so we can’t go.”

  When Natasha didn’t reach for the envelope, Mary added, “I want you to have my ticket. It’ll be such fun. I rented a costume. It’ll be a bit big on you, but we can pin it up. You’ll make a fabulous Renaissance countess. Far better than me.”

  “I really couldn’t accept. I—”

  Mary pressed the envelope into her hand. “I want you to have the ticket. Go to the party. It’ll bring me such pleasure to know you’re off having a good time after all you’ve been through. And don’t worry, we have a great sitter on Friday nights, so Tyler will be well looked after. After all, when’s the last time you attended a fancy party?”

  Natasha was about to say never, but Mary didn’t let her get a word in.

  “Come down to my room. We’ll get you dolled up. The mask is perfect for you, especially if you’re feeling shy.”

  Overwhelmed was more like it, but Natasha didn’t have the heart to refuse. Mary had done so much to make her feel at home, to help her get the job at Casa del Sole. But a masquerade? She stifled an ironic smile. Most of her life had been a bit of a façade. She ought to be good at them by now.

  Natasha turned off Lakeville Highway and headed down a paved drive flanked by towering poplar trees. The Auberge Ranch wasn’t like any ranch she’d ever imagined. The last rays of evening sunlight glinted off the river in the distance and shone on the roof of what appeared to be a massive airplane hangar down a road to the left. She took the fork to the right and passed acres of vines just beginning to bud.

  She passed two beautiful barns and a greenhouse and pulled up in front of the main house. An attendant met her, took the ticket she held out the window and directed her to park in a field near an enormous white tent. Lights of all colors projected images onto the sides of the tent, creating a swirling montage of Venetian masks, period costumes and historic scenes.

  She wriggled out of her car and straightened the rented velvet gown Mary had loaned her. Even Natasha had to admit that when Mary had finished arranging Natasha’s hair and pinned up the gown to fit her—and then helped her don the delicate lace mask—she looked like a storybook princess ready for a ball.

  But she wasn’t ready, not ready at all. She fought the urge to get back into her car and flee. She didn’t belong in such rich surroundings, had no experience with wealthy people and their habits. It didn’t matter that she was disguised; she knew she didn’t fit in.

  With a trembling hand, she shut the door to her car. She wouldn’t have known the names of the fancy sports cars parked in the row alongside hers if Tyler hadn’t pointed them out when they’d visited the town square the previous afternoon. A couple of Maseratis and a Mercedes or two and, four cars down, the car that had most excited him—a yellow Bugatti, perhaps the same one they’d seen yesterday. It was low to the ground and looked uncomfortable. Why people spent fortunes on cars, she’d never understand. But she had to admit they were beautiful, their sleek lines and forms reminding her of vehicles more suited to interstellar space travel than navigating the rough back roads of the Sonoma countryside.

  Music from the tent startled her back from her fantasy. She tugged at the bodice of the gown in an unsuccessful attempt to pull it up. Mary had dusted her with a powder of some sort, and the sparkles emphasized the curves of Natasha’s breasts and the valley between them.

  At least she had the cape.

  The cape would cover her. She pulled it from the back seat and wrapped it tight, securing it with the faux ruby pin that had come with the costume.

  A quick glance in her side mirror told her the mask was in place. Not that she’d be recognized even if it wasn’t—no one knew her here. Even so, the black scrolled lace hiding her identity felt like a security blanket. The invitation had made it clear that there was to be no unmasking or sharing of identities before midnight. Mary had made a show of reading the threat of a steep fine for anyone not heeding the rule.

  In spite of her misgivings, a secret thrill shivered through Natasha. Tonight she could be anonymous like the rest of the guests. Tonight she could be anyone she wished to be. She could lose herself in the fantasy and enjoy the evening. Hope blossomed with the thought. It had been a long time since she’d considered the hopes of the woman she’d once dreamed of being. A very, very long time.

  But when she entered the tent, her breath stopped.

  She’d seen movies with scenes of brief flashes of opulent parties. But the costume-clad throng already gathered in the tent went far beyond any movie portrayal.

  Before she could orient herself, the man tending the entrance insisted on taking her cloak and checking it. Without it, even hidden behind her mask, she felt exposed. She stared as the man handed her cape to the coat-check girl. The easy smile on the young woman’s face wasn’t one she’d worn all those years ago when she’d performed the same tasks.

  She spied a dark corner guarded by a towering urn overflowing with flowers and flanked by a lush palm. Skirting the edges of the tent and avoiding eye contact, she slipped into the shadows next to the palm. Her secluded sanctuary afforded her a perfect view of the glittering guests.

  A waiter came by and offered her a flute of champagne from a silver tray. Evidently she wasn’t as hidden as she’d thought. She accepted a glass and thanked him. The bubbles tickled her throat as she swallowed.

  Soon she found herself tapping her toes to the music, her body swaying.

  Her longing to dance didn’t surprise her. The few memories she had of her mother were of them dancing together in the living room of their tiny apartment in Manhattan. Her mother had let her wear one of her tutus, part of a costume she’d kept from one of the many ballets she’d danced in. In those days, Natasha had dreamed of being a ballet dancer just like her mother. But that was before a lightning bolt had struck her mother dead while she walked down a Long Island beach. Before five-year-old Natasha had been shuffled from foster family to foster family, each worse than the last. No woman wanted a beautiful orphan under her husband’s nose, especially once she’d reached her teenage years.

  The strains of a favorite song sounded from the stage at the far end of the tent. Natasha resisted the urge to dance and watched as the energy of the party swelled with the arrival of more festive and ornately costumed guests. Some men wore only black tie, their masks the only nod to the concept of masquerade. But goddesses, fairies, queens and countesses surrounded them. A few costumes looked like they’d been borrowed from the Star Wars bar scene—maybe they had been.

  Her stomach growled. She’d wolfed down a sandwich at Casa del Sole around noon but hadn’t eaten since. Hunger drew her from her sanctuary and out to a curved table that held bamboo baskets filled with delicate dumplings. She set down her glass and piled a few of the hors d’oeuvres onto a plate. She was just headed back to her secluded corner when a hand touched her arm.

  “I have it on good authority that the mushroom dumplings at the end of the table are excellent,” a velvet-smooth voice said.

  She looked up into dark eyes outlined by a black mask. The midnight-blue eyes belonged to a man with the most beguiling smile she’d ever seen. Perhaps it was the champagne or perhaps it was because the mask made his smile more pronounced, but she could’ve sworn it reached into her most secret heart. The part of her she shared with no one.

  Instinctively she stepped away from the man’s touch. And saw that in addition to the simple b
lack mask, he wore a costume that made him look like a cross between a dark angel and some sort of swashbuckling musketeer.

  “That good authority being me,” another man, one wearing a wizard’s costume, said with a jolly laugh as he stepped up to them. He nodded to the man with the velvet voice. “Don’t trust his opinion of American food. He’s new to the country.”

  “Not that new, Parker,” the man with the unsettling smile said. “And besides, these are Asian dumplings, nothing American about them.”

  His easy laugh shouldn’t have sent a warm path of energy flooding through Natasha.

  “No names,” said the man outed as Parker. “You are officially fined one thousand dollars.” He turned to Natasha. “You’ll be fined too if you give any identifying information. Any at all.” He wriggled his brows and grinned. “We have agents throughout the room keeping track of rule breakers.” He nudged the other man. “You can pay up now or at the end of the evening. If you don’t want to break my well-crafted spell, you’ll have to wait till midnight.”

  “Put it on my auction tab. I want that painting. But you won’t get any more fines from me. My lips are now sealed.”

  Parker turned to Natasha. “You’re forewarned. But if you do slip up—no worries—all the fines and auction proceeds go to the Boys and Girls Club, so no harm done. But I do prefer when my parties run according to plan.”

  “He’s a step away from being the party police,” the first man said in a good-natured tone. “But we love him just the same.”

  “Do not try me,” Parker said. “I wanted to use the airplane hangar for the auction, but several guests had already claimed it to house their jets for the night.”

  “I can imagine that put you in a foul mood.”

  Parker looked from Natasha to the other man. “I am never in a foul mood. Well, maybe once. But that was when we lost the polo match to Argentina.”

  “That was no fault of yours, Parker. You played like a demon.”