The Vineyard at Painted Moon

by Susan Mallery

  “We’re both scrambling to keep up with events,” she said, sitting at the table and motioning for Rhys to join her. “Things are going very smoothly, which is both good and a little scary. I’m daunted by the paperwork.”

  “Herman’s a motivated seller. He wants you to have Painted Moon because he knows you’ll always care about it.”

  Rhys picked up a bottle of red wine and waved it toward her, as if offering a glass. She shook her head no. He sat across from her.

  “So what’s up? I know you don’t want my advice on the business.”

  She managed a smile. “I already know what you think.”

  “It’s a great opportunity for you. A chance to do your own thing. That would never happen here.”

  “I’m sorry about the trouble with your mom.”

  He shrugged. “You know how she gets. Eventually she’ll move on to hating someone else.”

  Barbara hated her? Mackenzie tried not to react to the casual words, even though they cut down to her heart.

  “Interesting about Stephanie,” he added, as if he didn’t know she was struggling to act normal. “Quitting like that. I guess she and Mom really went at it. Everything’s changing.”

  She fought against a flood of guilt, knowing she had culpability in that breakup, as well. If she and Rhys hadn’t split up, she wouldn’t have left Bel Après. If she hadn’t left, Stephanie wouldn’t have had to defend her. And so on and so on.

  He looked at her. “You called this meeting. What’s up?”

  Part of her wanted to say “Nothing” and bolt, putting off the confession, but she wouldn’t do that. Hiding only made things worse. She looked directly at him and said, “I’m pregnant.”

  He stared at her blankly. “You can’t be. You have an IUD. You’re not pregnant.”

  “I had it taken out two years ago. Rhys, you knew that. You drove me to the procedure.”

  “No.” He stood and moved until the island was between them, shaking his head the entire time. “No. You’re not. You can’t be. Not now. A kid?” He swore.

  “You’re upset,” she whispered, mostly because she couldn’t think of what else to say.

  “Upset? I’m upset?” His voice rose. “I don’t think that comes close to describing what I am. Pregnant? That’s the last thing either of us needs.” He turned and hit the wall with his fist, then spun back to her. “All I wanted was a life. Is that too much to ask? I’ve spent the past five years living like a goddamned monk in this house. No sex, no connection of any kind. All we ever talked about was work. I wanted something more. Anything that wasn’t this and now you’re pregnant?”

  She hadn’t expected him to be happy, but she hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. Each of his words was a punch in the gut until she was mentally hunched over, trying to protect herself.

  “I’m going to want you to have a DNA test when the baby’s born.”

  She half rose, then sank down in the chair. “You really are a bastard. I wouldn’t have known.”

  “What do you expect me to say?” he demanded.

  “That you believe me. You know I wasn’t having sex with anyone else. How exactly would that happen? I was on Bel Après property every second of every day. Do you think I was meeting some guy out in the vineyards? That’s romantic.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I just...” He braced himself against the island. “I don’t want any of this. I just want to get a divorce.” He looked at her. “You never thought to get on some kind of birth control?”

  “Why would I bother?” she snapped, digging for the anger that would give her strength. “As you keep saying, we weren’t having sex. For the second time in five minutes, I point out that you drove me to the doctor when I got out my IUD. You knew exactly as much as I did. We both forgot. If you remember, you’re the one who started the whole let’s-have-sex thing. I wasn’t trying to get pregnant on purpose.”

  He drew in a breath and held up both hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He glanced around, as if searching for an escape, then he slowly walked back to the table and sat down.

  She thought about the early days of their marriage, when they’d still been talking about having kids. If only this had happened ten years ago, or even seven, she thought sadly. They would be so happy—excited about their child and the future. Something else that had been lost.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked, sounding defeated. “Do you want this?”

  “I’m having the baby.” She’d never thought otherwise. Yes, she was pro-choice, but she was a healthy woman with a good job and was perfectly capable of raising a child by herself.

  “I wasn’t asking you to have an abortion.”

  “No, but it would solve a lot of your problems.”

  “I’m not a jerk.”

  “You just play one on TV?”

  He drew in a breath. “Let’s start over. You’re pregnant. Now what?”

  “Now I have a kid and you have to decide what you want to do about it. Oh, and I get a DNA test because we need to make sure it’s yours.” She leaned back in the chair. “Don’t worry. I’m not angling to stop the divorce. I’m telling you because it changes some things. Our simple property split isn’t so simple anymore.”

  He rubbed his face with his hands. “I didn’t even think about that. We have to do something legally, right?”

  “It’s called a parenting plan. I’ll be the custodial parent, but you’ll want to decide how much visitation you want. Or you can just sign away your rights.”

  She wasn’t sure about the latter. Was it even legal? It happened all the time in movies and TV, but real life was often different.

  He dropped his hands. “I’m not walking away from my kid. I don’t know enough about this to have the conversation. Let me talk to my lawyer and get back to you. If we can come to some agreement, then we shouldn’t have to hold up the divorce.”

  The all-important divorce, she thought bitterly. Because Rhys couldn’t get away from her fast enough.

  “Have your lawyer put together a proposal for a parenting plan and child support,” she said, coming to her feet. “Once we agree on that, we can move forward with the divorce.”

  He stood and looked at her. “I’m not mad,” he began. “I wasn’t expecting a baby.”

  “Me, either, but here we are.”

  She searched for some trace of the guy she’d married, but he was nowhere to be found. Rhys might not be pounding his fist into the wall anymore, but he wasn’t happy. Whatever fantasies she might have secretly held about them still being a team had just been flushed down the toilet.

  After sixteen years of marriage, she was totally on her own. Single and pregnant. Hardly a new story, but certainly not one she’d expected to have to live through.

  She went upstairs to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Somehow she’d thought the conversation would take longer. It was funny what a couple could get through in fifteen minutes when they no longer cared about each other.

  * * *

  Stephanie hung on to Kyle’s hand, not caring if she was digging her nails into his flesh. He was a tough sports guy—he could take it.

  The last four hours had passed in a blur, starting with a call from Carson’s coach saying her son had been in an accident. He and his friends had gone rock climbing at the sports center where they trained and Carson had fallen, breaking his arm and hitting his head on the mat.

  “I’m going to throw up,” she said, feeling her stomach writhing.

  Kyle looked at her, his brows pulled together. “Do you mean that? Want me to find a bucket? I really don’t think you should throw up on the seat. It’s a crappy way to thank Bruno.”

  She stared at him, not quite able to understand what he was saying only to look around and remember that, yes, they were in a very well-appointed private jet.

  As soo
n as Stephanie had gotten the call from the coach, she’d called Mackenzie to see if Avery could stay with her overnight while Stephanie went to be with Carson. Stephanie’s second call had been to Kyle, who’d immediately started looking to get them a flight to Sacramento. The problem was Walla Walla was hours by car from Seattle and there were only a couple of flights a day between the two cities.

  Mackenzie had interrupted that call to say Bruno was offering his private jet. The pilots would stay in Sacramento as long as needed, then fly the three of them back.

  Less than an hour after she’d gotten the initial call from the coach, Stephanie found herself being flown to Seattle’s Boeing Field, where Kyle got on board. The second she saw him, she’d let go of her self-control and fallen into his arms, sobbing.

  “I’m not going to throw up,” she said, trying to slow her breathing. “I have to hold it together.”

  “He’s fine.”

  “He hit his head and they’re keeping him overnight in the hospital.”

  “For observation.”

  She shook her head. “It’s overnight, Kyle. There could be something wrong with his brain.”

  “He’s going to be fine.”

  “You don’t know any more than I do,” she snapped.

  Instead of pushing back, he wrapped his arm around her. “I know that imagining the worst won’t make this trip go any faster. Now try to relax and enjoy our luxurious surroundings. You’re probably never going to fly in a private jet again.”

  “I’ll enjoy it on the trip home,” she muttered, silently urging the pilots to fly faster.

  Less than an hour later, they touched down. Kyle plugged the hospital address into the rental car’s GPS and drove them directly there.

  When they walked into the Emergency Department, Stephanie did her best not to start by screaming that she needed to see her son. Kyle headed directly to the information desk.

  It took only a few minutes for them to be directed to Carson’s room. They found their fourteen-year-old sitting up in bed, pale, a little wide-eyed, with his left forearm in a cast.

  “Hey, Mom,” he said weakly, waving his arm, then wincing. “So I kind of fell off the rock wall.”

  She rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him, determined to never let go. Thoughts crowded her head, mostly that he was never leaving the house again, and that she’d been wrong to let him go to baseball camp.

  “I’m fine,” Carson insisted. “It’s no big deal.”

  She stepped back to allow Kyle to hug him, using the time to look for damage. Except for the broken arm and the pale skin, he seemed all right. Before she could start grilling him on other symptoms, a middle-aged woman in a white coat walked in.

  “Hello,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Dr. Leishman. You must be Carson’s parents. The break was very clean and should heal quickly. We can’t find any indication of head trauma or a concussion, but we’re going to keep him overnight, just in case.” She smiled.

  “Can I go back to baseball camp?” Carson asked quickly. “We only have a week left. I won’t be able to play, but I have to be there for my team.”

  Stephanie was about to tell him he was so coming home when she felt Kyle touch her shoulder. She glanced at him and saw he was slowly shaking his head.

  “Let’s see how you are in the morning,” she said reluctantly.

  “I’m fine now, Mom.”

  “And yet you’re spending the night in the hospital.”

  Dr. Leishman looked between them. “Carson will be moved up to Pediatrics sometime in the next hour. We can have a cot brought in so one of you can spend the night with him. The doctor on duty will check in with you once he’s settled.”

  “Thank you,” Stephanie said, moving close to Carson and taking his hand. “Thank you for everything.”

  When the doctor left, Carson rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad, Mom. Look at me. Don’t I sound normal? My head doesn’t even hurt.”

  “Like you would tell me if it did.”

  He smiled. “I’m not that good at pretending I’m not in pain.”

  “Still, we’ll talk about camp in the morning. First I want you to get a good night’s sleep.”

  Once Carson was settled in his room in Pediatrics, Kyle pulled Stephanie out into the hallway.

  “I’m going to go find a hotel. I’m sure there’s one that’s close. I know you need to stay here tonight, but you’ll want to come over and use the shower in the morning. Once I’m checked in, I’ll find out about takeout in the area, then come back for food orders. Carson isn’t going to want hospital food for dinner.”

  “If they let him eat.”

  He smiled at her. “They’re going to let him eat. Steph, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with his head. Let’s assume the best until we have reason to think otherwise.”

  “Being that positive isn’t in my nature.”

  “But you are feeling better about him.”

  She nodded slowly. “He seems completely normal and he’s not in a lot of pain. He really doesn’t fake that well. But he’s still in the hospital. Doesn’t that freak you out?”

  “A little, but it’s a short-term thing. You going to be okay by yourself?”

  “Yes. Go find a hotel. While you’re gone, I’ll ask the nurse about what he can eat for dinner. Oh, and when you come back, can you bring my overnight bag? It’s in the car.”

  “Sure.” He leaned in and lightly brushed her mouth with his. “We’ll get through this together.”

  “I know. You have many flaws, but you’re a good dad.”

  “You’re a good mom.”

  She managed a smile. “True, and I don’t have any flaws.”

  He laughed. “If only that were true. See you soon.”

  She watched him walk to the elevator, then returned to her son’s room. While she fussed over Carson and made sure he was comfortable, she thought about how grateful she was to have Kyle with her. There were times when he made her insane, but lately he’d been a really good guy. She knew he would take care of whatever needed doing. Funny how it had taken them ten years of being divorced to finally find a relationship that worked for them.

  twenty-two

  The farmhouse was at least a hundred years old, but it had obviously been loved. The outside paint was fresh, the big front porch sturdy. Mackenzie watched as Bruno walked toward the windows.

  “Double pane,” he said. “They’ve been replaced in the past five years. You won’t have to worry about them.”

  “That’s about the time Herman’s wife got sick. She had cancer and only lasted a few months after diagnosis. I’m sure he had the windows replaced so she would be more comfortable in the house.”

  He opened the front door and motioned for her to go in first. There was a good-sized living room with a big fireplace on the left and a small guest bath off to the right. Stairs led to the second floor. She could see into the dining room and guessed the kitchen was to the right of that.

  The ceilings were high, the floors refinished wood and probably the originals. The leaf-print wallpaper wasn’t to her liking, but that was easily fixed.

  It was a good house—solid and more than enough for her. She should be enthused, and she was trying to be. The problem was she couldn’t shake her conversation with Rhys. While she hadn’t expected him to dance for joy, she’d hoped for a slightly more positive reaction.

  She forced her attention from that disastrous conversation to the house.

  “It’s nice,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to live here?”

  Bruno looked at her. “We’ve discussed this. I’m in escrow for a large condo overlooking the golf course. That’s much more my style. This is a perfect house for you and the baby.”

  “I guess.” She wasn’t sure what made a house perfect for a child. She supposed anywh
ere would work as long as it was safe, warm and filled with love.

  They went into the kitchen. It was bigger than she’d been hoping, although fairly old-fashioned. The huge farm sink was a bit battered and the appliances had seen better days, but everything was clean and there were plenty of cabinets.

  “You can gut this and have the kitchen of your dreams,” he told her.

  She laughed. “I don’t usually dream about kitchens. I’m more into wine.”

  “Then get a designer to come up with a plan.”

  “Every penny I own is trapped until the divorce. The second that happens, it goes to you.” She smiled. “I bring nothing to the table but my sparkling personality.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll be making plenty within a year or two. Plus, you’re getting paid a salary and you have your royalties from your Bel Après wine.”

  She nodded instead of admitting she was fully expecting Barbara to find a way to weasel out of paying her that. Bruno would tell her to stand strong and hire a lawyer, which was probably good advice, but everything was happening so quickly—the divorce, buying the winery, finding out she was pregnant. She wasn’t sure she could take on one more thing.

  They went upstairs. There was a large master with an attached bath and walk-in closet. Lavender rose wallpaper covered the walls and there was a faint scent of an old-fashioned soap, but nothing Mackenzie couldn’t live with.

  She made notes on the pad she’d brought. She needed to get a bed ordered, a couple of nightstands and a dresser. Downstairs she would need a sofa and maybe a TV. Everything else could wait.

  When she was done writing, she and Bruno went into the first of the two secondary bedrooms. They shared a bathroom. Bruno stood in the center of the one with the big bay window.

  “This one for the baby,” he said. “There’s lots of light. When she gets older, you can get her a curved sofa to put there so she can curl up on it and read.”

  “She?”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m hoping for a girl.”