Chaos Among the Vines (Romancing the Vine Book 2)

by Gemma Brocato

  And worse, there was the clutter and disorganization that came with living around her artsy-fartsy mother. Avalon had refused to give up her office, so Mom had camped out in her living room, done laundry in the bathtub, and what could be loosely termed ‘science experiments’ in the kitchen. Because it certainly hadn’t been cooking.

  “Mom, I thought you were in Santa Fe.” Well, she wished her mother were in Santa Fe, or anywhere else rather than standing in her entry hall. “What are you doing in Los Angeles?”

  “Oh, I needed a change of scenery. The desert was getting tiresome.”

  Probably more like she’d been evicted. The spot between Avalon’s shoulder blades twanged with an itch she knew she’d never reach. A great big, Guinevere Reese-shaped splotch that magically activated whenever her chaotic mother appeared. Heart racing with anxiety from Mom’s unexpected visit, Avalon swiped her palms over her thighs.

  “Ava, sweetie?” Mom tipped her head to the side and raised her brows. “Are you going to leave me standing in the hall much longer?”

  Yes! “No. Sorry. Come on in.” She stepped to the side and slammed her back to the wall.

  Mom trotted past, leaving her mismatched, battered luggage just outside the entry. “Can you grab those, honey? My sciatica flared up on the tortuous drive here.”

  “You drove? I didn’t realize you had a car again.” After living in their vehicle for months while Avalon was in high school, Mom had insisted on never owning another car. Avalon grasped the handle of one bag, the cheap plastic grip disintegrating under her palm.

  “I just got one a few months ago.” Mom’s voice was edged with resignation as she sprawled on the sofa. “I decided it was time again.”

  Avalon dropped one suitcase and went back for the other, but paused midway across the room. She looked over her shoulder at Mom, eyeing her critically. Guin looked frazzled, and though she dressed colorfully, appeared more circus-themed than her normal arty style. Like she’d dressed in the dark. Or the back of station wagon crammed full of all her worldly possessions.

  Awareness and guilt rose up Avalon’s spine like an inexorable tide. “Mom, are you living in your car again?” The last time it had happened, Mom had dressed like a bag lady, layering a couple of sweaters over T-shirts, occasionally mismatching her shoes.

  It had been excruciatingly painful for Avalon’s shy, teenaged self whenever Mom drove to the school to pick her up. There was no way teachers and students could miss the fact their cruddy car was packed with all their worldly goods and her mother had slipped from arty to desperate.

  Guin scoffed belligerently. “No!”

  But her grimace told another story. She was most certainly homeless again. A sharp memory arose . . . of her mother crying softly when she thought Avalon had been asleep. She tried hard to make those first few weeks an adventure, but the longer they’d lived in their car, the more such an effort overwhelmed Guin.

  Guilt riddled Avalon. She should have called her mother more often to check on her. “You could have called or come here sooner.” Avalon might not have rolled out the welcome mat, but she’d have helped. Once again, she was the only adult in this relationship.

  Mom deflected by pointing at Avalon’s butt. “Ava, you should get more exercise. You’re starting to get a little too curvy.”

  And the topic of Guin being able to drive her home from point A to point B was officially closed. “I carve out forty minutes of each day on the treadmill.”

  Avalon despised the defensive tone in her voice. But her days were filled with work. When she said carved, she meant with the sharpest knife she had at her disposal. Her days were scheduled around meetings and clients, and the most efficient use of her time. A routine that included a nearly religious devotion to hopping on the exercise equipment in the corner of her living room.

  “Well, you should add some squats to your regimen. They never hurt.” Guin popped off the couch and spun, showing Avalon her derriere. She patted one cheek and beamed proudly when it didn’t jiggle. “Just look at my ass, would ya? I do lunges every day and it shows.”

  Avalon shrugged and continued to the door to grab the other suitcase.

  “There’s more in the car, dear. We can go down shortly. After you fix me a fabulous cup of coffee. Do you have any of that yummy blend you had last time? Apple cider donut, wasn’t it?”

  Holding in an exasperated sigh was harder than finding thirty minutes to sit down and read a book for pleasure. Avalon grunted as she picked up Mom’s other suitcase. “You know I never drink anything but plain coffee.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I found that flavor in the discount store we went to.” Her mother’s tinkling laugh overrode Avalon’s next grunt as she shoved the heavy case into a corner, out of the way. “Oh, Ava. I still remember the look on your face when you took your first sip after I made a pot. Priceless.”

  “Thanks for reminding me, Mom.” Avalon recalled spitting the first mouthful out into the sink. The smell alone was one hundred percent nasty. The taste . . . Avalon shuddered with the memory.

  She’d been cranky the entire day because she hadn’t had the right coffee first thing in the morning. Mom had chided her about being too set in her ways; said Avalon reminded her of their crotchety old neighbor, the asshole who sneered as they’d loaded their possessions into that ancient Estate Wagon with the peeling blue paint and scuffed up wood panels. All under the watchful eye of the county sheriff and the somber man from the bank.

  Avalon pushed the memory away before it could crumble her sense of security to rubble. There was a beauty in having a roof over one’s head that most people never truly understood.

  No response. When she spun around, she found Guin missing from the living room. A series of bangs resounded from the kitchen. Avalon stood in the doorway and watched her mother systematically search through the cabinets.

  Another bang. Mom slammed shut the cupboard next to the sink and grumbled. “Can’t find a coffee cup.”

  Avalon moved across the room, and retrieved a cup from the cabinet above the coffee maker. She placed the mug next to the pot, then slid sideways, out of the way.

  With a tight smile Guin poured a cup, then took a sip. Her lip curling, she opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of almond milk. “Don’t you have cream?”

  “Sorry, no.” Avalon kept a snide comment about curvy butts to herself. Her watch buzzed, drawing her attention. She’d been so frazzled by her mother’s arrival, she’d missed three new emails and one phone call. She swiped her finger across the screen to dismiss them, and dragged her gaze back to her guest.

  After adding a liberal dollop of milk to the coffee, and splashing more on the granite counter, Mom abandoned the carton and the spoon she’d dirtied. Liquid splashed over the rim of her cup as she carried it to the table.

  The itch between Avalon’s shoulders intensified and her palms dampened as she stared at the mess her mother had made, then tossed a glance at the clock on the stove. Guin’s unexpected arrival had put her sixteen minutes behind schedule. So far.

  Sucking a breath in through her nose and letting it sigh out her lips, Avalon returned the milk to the fridge. She rinsed the spoon and dropped it in the dishwasher, then wiped down the spill on the granite. Dropping a paper towel to the floor, she mopped up the droplets.

  She stood, torn between wanting to find out what had happened with her mother, and the need to get back to work. Her wrist jangled again, making the decision for her. “Mom, I have to take a call from my boss. Just . . . make yourself at home. There are eggs and bagels in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Mom said, as though aware of Avalon’s indecision. “I know you have to work. I’ll just settle in. Quiet as a mouse, I promise. You go do what you need to do. We can talk later.”

  She shouldn’t feel so relieve
d at the idea of escaping to her office. But work was her refuge. And, for the time being, it seemed it would be the only place where she’d have any control. Avalon gave her mother a scant wave, then flew down the hall to her office.

  She eased the door closed behind her, not because she wanted privacy, but because already, her mom’s version of quiet as a mouse was shattering her normal peace. Drawers slammed, and pots rattled on the stove’s burner. Music blared for a moment, then the volume was lowered to a less ear-splitting level.

  Spending precious minutes, Avalon searched her desk for an old set of noise-cancelling headphones, eventually finding them in their box in the bookcase. They pinched her ears, but deadened the racket Mom made in the kitchen. Not a win-win, but workable.

  After replying to the first of the three new emails, Avalon lifted one earmuff, cringed at the increased noise level, and twisted an ear bud into her right ear. She let the muff slap against her head as she dialed her boss’s number.

  “Hi, it’s Avalon.” She didn’t know why she bothered to announce her name to Karen White. The woman had a memory to rival Avalon’s, remembering phone numbers with ease. Not to mention she had Avalon’s contact details programmed into her phone.

  “Good morning. You seem a little scattered today. I was worried when you didn’t answer.”

  “Got some unexpected company this morning.” Her boss and Beth were the only people Avalon would stop to chat with during working hours.

  “Good guest or bad?”

  “I’m going with bad. Lots of potential distractions.”

  Karen laughed. “I know how you feel about that. How about if I give you a reason to send them away? I can speed up your timetable with Will Bradford’s winery.”

  “Nice offer, but I doubt he’s ready for me right now.” She let her indignation through. “Did you know he doesn’t have a smart phone? Dealing with a client who hasn’t embraced technology is going to be a challenge.”

  “Um . . .” Avalon heard pages shuffling. Karen sighed. “Yeah, Drake Evans did mention that technology might be a roadblock to your ultimate success. No laptop either. Not sure how this man has stayed in business so far.”

  “Maybe his charm and winning demeanor?” she scoffed.

  “I know you are up for the challenge. I handpicked this client for you. You weren’t next in the queue for a new business but I wanted my best engineer on the case. I bumped you up three spots in the rotation.”

  Hmm . . . interesting. Avalon couldn’t remember Karen ever deviating from her rigid scheduling of consultants to clients. “I don’t know whether to be flattered you did or frightened of the task ahead.”

  “Be flattered. No one else has the skills to drag Mr. Bradford into—”

  “Will. He doesn’t want to be called ‘Mister.’”

  “Ooh, you are a little flustered by this business. You never interrupt me.”

  “As I see it, I’ll be battling on two fronts. First to get Will into this century and second, to streamline his business.”

  “Two fronts never stopped you before. You can do this.” The encouragement in Karen’s voice sounded false and forced.

  “I’m allocating one of the spare tablets for his use. Add it to the invoice. I’ll program email and texting on it so he’ll be easier to reach.” She wondered if he’d bother to turn on the miracle machine. Or even knew how. There were no guarantees he’d agree. “Can you maybe grease the wheels a little with his business manager . . . what’s his name? Drake Evans? I could send it directly to him and organize a time to walk them both through how it works.”

  “Will do. But according to Evans, Bradford is his own man. A little set in his ways.”

  It was Avalon’s turn to laugh. “Not to worry. I’ll win him over with my wit and charm. If that doesn’t work, I’ll bulldoze his technology-challenged ass into submission.”

  She tapped the space bar on her laptop, bringing it to life. Will’s picture, the one in front of the sign for his vineyard, came into focus front and center. His body was angled so she had a good view of the man’s behind in his snug fitting jeans.

  A hand descended on her shoulder.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” she yelled. Her heart raced as she turned toward her mother.

  “What?” Karen demanded. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Avalon blew out a harsh breath as she tugged the noise canceling muffs off her head. She held up a finger to Mom. “Give me a minute.”

  “I knocked.” Mom’s lips were set to belligerent. “Didn’t you hear me calling your name? It’s not safe for you to be so oblivious. A woman alone.”

  She wouldn’t have had the headphones on if her mom hadn’t dropped like a big bird turd into her life. She chastised, “Mom, this is business. Can you wait in the kitchen? Please?”

  Karen’s gasp raked Avalon’s eardrum. “Your mom is your unexpected guest?” Karen knew Avalon’s sordid history with homelessness and a mother who refused to get organized enough to pay the bills.

  With an exaggerated sigh, Guin flounced from the room.

  Slumping back against her chair, Avalon lowered her voice. “Yeah. I think she got evicted again. She’s wearing her station-wagon wardrobe.”

  “Seriously, Avalon, if you want I can speed up the time table. You can research vineyards at Rolling In The Clover as easily as you can from the discomfort of your home with your mom there.”

  Could she? Was there a network in place to make her job easier? Avalon opened a note on her laptop and starting jotting her thoughts down. “Let me see what needs to be rearranged on my schedule. I can probably go sooner than the end of the month, if necessary.”

  “With Guinevere Reese in residence, I’m thinking it’s beyond necessary. I believe it is vital.”

  Karen’s laughter and ominous prediction sent chills up Avalon’s spine as she hung up.

  Chapter 5

  The rough sound of wires being pulled through the walls set Will’s teeth on edge. A muscle in his jaw popped as he glanced over his shoulder at the cable company employee who’d descended, about as welcome as a bad case of flu, this morning.

  Drake had dropped in yesterday to inform him an installer would be at his office the next day at ‘O-dark-thirty.’ Bastard expressed glee at the prospect of dragging Will’s sorry butt into the new century. His former best friend had extolled the virtues of connectivity as he’d handed him the iPad that On Time Management had overnighted.

  He scowled at the tablet, still safely wrapped in its box, resting on the corner of his desk. Eyeing his supersized cup of coffee, he debated having an accident that would ruin the devilish device waiting for him. But the protective overwrap was still in place, so he shelved the idea.

  A quiet squeal, loud thud, and subsequent grunt happened behind him.

  Will spun in his chair to face the installer. The guy, Trent, was kneading a spot on his forehead. “Dude, you have mice in the walls here.”

  “This is a farm. Mice are staples in operations like this.”

  “Maybe in barns, but in the office? Don’t think so.” Trent shuddered. “I need hazard pay for this job. I hope the production buildings are clear.”

  “We have health code standards to meet, so they’re clean as a whistle.” Will paused. “Wait, you’re installing cable in there as well?”

  “Networking the entire estate. Drake even wants the little green barn on the far side of the vineyard to be connected.”

  “I’m never speaking to him again.” Will brightened as he looked at Trent. “Do you know any accountants seeking new customers?”

  Trent lowered his brows as the corners of his mouth sagged down. “You should stick with Drake. He has the Midas touch.”

  “Yeah—but his touch converts everything to ones and zeroes,” Will groused.
He couldn’t deny his money was making more money under Drake’s guidance. Plenty of it, in fact, if the last spreadsheet Drake had sent was accurate. But it came with a cost to Will’s personal peace of mind.

  “Huh?”

  Will waved off Trent’s questioning look. “Back to work.”

  With an anxious feeling meandering around his gut, he peeled off the protective film from the iPad box. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do technology. He’d had plenty of practice with computers and networks in college. In fact, he could probably hook up the network Trent was installing right now. He simply had no interest. His fingers, with dirt under his nails most days, would look stupid on a keyboard. And he liked the dirt. It was proof he could make the land pay for him. The way it hadn’t for his dad.

  He pulled the tablet free of the box and pressed the power button. He wished he could turn off his sense of competitiveness with his father as easily.

  Meg walked back in after taking a ten-minute tobacco break that had lasted the better part of a half hour. She reeked of stale cigarette smoke. He caught a whiff of alcohol fumes dancing on top of the stinky nicotine aroma. Giving her a hard stare, he waited while she popped a peppermint in her mouth. She shrugged, smirked, and then turned her attention to her desk phone, punching in her code to retrieve a voicemail.

  Drinking on the job was a hazard of working at a vineyard, but Meg had fallen into the habit of spending part of her downtime in the tasting room. Some days, her breaks lasted an hour. But she was the closest thing he had to an assistant, so he tended to overlook her transgressions. He wondered what Ava Reese would make of his hired help.

  Picking up the tablet, he grunted at Meg as he left the office. The sun warmed his shoulders as he strode along the path to his house. It was nearly lunchtime and he’d spend his hour productively. The efficiency expert might even be proud of him for his efforts.