Fate Interrupted: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Moonstone Cove Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Well, she was done catering to him.

  If there was one thing that heading west had taught her, it was that reinvention really was possible. She’d restarted her life at forty-five, and the sense of freedom was incomparable. She’d cut loose the guilt from putting up with Rodney’s affairs, and she finally felt like she was discovering who she was meant to be. Forty-seven wasn’t too late to get that right, was it?

  Did that make her some kind of cliché? Put her in some kind of first-wives’ club?

  If it did, she didn’t care. She’d discovered genuine friendship and real opportunity in Moonstone Cove. She wasn’t looking back.

  On her way out the door, she waved at Trina, who was FaceTiming with her best friend back in Atlanta. Megan got in her silver Mercedes SUV and headed down the hill to get her other kids. She turned left when she got to the highway and made her way through quaint residential neighborhoods on her way to the small downtown pier and shopping hub. Beach bungalows and narrow Victorian homes slowly gave way to boutiques and cafés. When she reached Wave Street and turned right, she used the voice command on her phone to text her daughter.

  “Text Cami: Almost to you. Meet you in front. Send.”

  In another three blocks, she saw Cami and her older brother standing on the sidewalk with their father glowering in the background. She double-parked and rolled down the window, shooting Rodney her most beatific smile. “Sorry! Parking down here is so crazy! Hop in, kids. Don’t want to get a ticket.”

  She did it every time. If she parked and walked up to his apartment, he’d find a reason to keep her in conversation for an hour. Double-parking gave her the best excuse.

  Rodney was a middle-aged man with silver-grey hair and wide, straight shoulders. If she didn’t see the snake inside him, she’d think he was a silver fox.

  “I’m going to call you later.” Rodney shot a glare at Adam’s back as the boy clambered into the front passenger seat. “We need to talk.”

  “Oh right.” Megan pretended to care. “Sure. Sure. Just ring me around four or five o’clock. Anywhere around that will work, right?” She reached into the back and patted Cami’s knee. “Hey, baby girl, how did your history test go?”

  “Good.” Cami buckled up and rolled down her window. “Bye, Dad. I’ll text you.”

  Adam said nothing. He just raised the window and buckled his seat belt. “We ready to go?”

  She spotted traffic approaching behind her, gave Rodney a quick wave, and pulled back into the flow of cars heading toward the beach.

  “So,” she said. “Who wants to go first?”

  Adam asked, “Can I go to the Ethan’s house for dinner tonight with Trino and Max?”

  “Ethan’s house” meant Dusi family dinner, and Trino and Max were two of Toni’s numerous nephews or cousins or something. They were on the basketball team with Adam. “Who’s driving?”

  “I’ll drive there and back. They’re going early to help their dad with something.”

  “That’s fine with me. Is that why you didn’t want to go to the country club with your dad today?”

  “Partly,” he said.

  “Yeah it is,” Cami said. “You told him you had plans that were more important than meeting his new girlfriend of the month. That’s why he’s all pissed at you.”

  “Uh, why are his plans more important when Trino asked me like three days ago to come to dinner at the winery? He doesn’t get to say our stuff doesn’t matter.”

  “Did I say he did?” Cami asked. “You didn’t have to say that about his girlfriend though.”

  Megan raised a hand. “Okay, zip it. What girlfriend? Isn’t he still with Clare what’s-her-name?”

  “Mom, that was over like three months ago.” Cami rolled her eyes.

  “Who can keep up?” Adam asked. “Either way, I’m not sorry. I don’t care about his new girlfriend. If it’s real, I’ll meet her another time.”

  Megan had zero opinion about Rodney dating now that they were divorced. It was the dating when they were still married that she’d had a problem with. Still, she wished her ex was a little more discreet about introducing women to the kids. It was hard to teach her children to be respectful when they saw a veritable merry-go-round of bright young things, some of whom were closer to Adam’s age than Rodney’s.

  “Adam, you may go to the Dusis for dinner.” She had no doubt her son could get into some kind of trouble with his buddies, but it wouldn’t be anything major. Toni’s family knew who Adam was, and they’d keep an eye on him. “And Cami, why don’t you and Trina and I do a spa day? I think it’s been too long.”

  “Yes,” Cami said. “I just got some new sheet masks. That is how you spend a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Agreed.” She glanced at Adam, waiting for him to make a smart remark, but her joyous, brilliant boy looked more like he was sitting under a cloud than in the bright, California sunshine.

  Good Lord, when did it get easier?

  Chapter 3

  On Tuesday morning, Megan arrived at Dusi Heritage Winery with a head full of the Harrington wedding—less than a week away; the Jackson wedding—the week after that; the Lion’s Club luncheon that Friday; and the meeting of the Central Coast Realtors’ Association, which was holding a two-day in-service on Wednesday and Thursday.

  Megan didn’t know when it had become acceptable to hold professional conference events at a place known for wine consumption, but maybe Realtors just had more fun than other jobs.

  She parked her car in the gravel-covered lot behind the massive barn that housed the fermentation hall and blending lab. She pulled her small SUV next to Henry’s bright white pickup truck. His office was across from hers, but he always came in earlier.

  Before she’d started working at Dusi’s, Megan’d had no idea how many roles there were in a winery. Nico was the owner of the vineyards, but his main job was farming. His function was to grow and pick the best wine grapes possible, and Henry was the one who actually made the wine. Henry also had a lot of input into when the harvest happened, depending on how much sugar he wanted in the grapes.

  Along with a core staff, there were numerous interns and apprentices coming in and out of the winery, young people who were still learning the basics of the business. There were harvest crews in the fall, mechanics who kept all the machinery running smoothly, and then there was the office staff like Megan.

  Nico had a secretary, Danielle, who worked with him in the winery office; another woman who was in charge of the wine club, its membership and promotions; and they’d hired two new people to help the wine-club director since the caves had become open to the public. At any given time, there would be private or public tour groups walking around the winery, though they tried to keep those limited to the tasting room and the caves, leaving the barn where Megan worked fairly isolated from the public.

  Once the new tasting room and event space next to the wine caves was built, all the public tasting and retail would be centered in that location, and the house and top of the hill would be reserved for private events.

  It was an interesting industry to learn about, and it fulfilled Megan’s urge to constantly absorb new things. It was part of the reason she enjoyed event planning. She loved meeting new people, loved learning about new businesses and industries; she couldn’t stand being bored.

  Megan heard voices raised in Henry’s office as soon as she walked into the building. She froze, looked around, but nothing seemed out of place. She didn’t understand what was going on—the words were too muffled—but she recognized Nico’s voice.

  Nico and Henry were… fighting?

  She turned and looked at the door, wondering for a split second if she was in the right place. As much Megan joked about Nico being bullheaded, he and Henry never fought. In the months she’d been working there, she honestly could not remember a single cross word.

  “—don’t know how anyone else could have known!” Nico’s angry voice came through clearly.

  Wow. He wasn’t
just pissed or irritated. The man sounded enraged.

  Henry’s voice was as confused as Nico’s was angry. “What are you accusing me of? Those vines are just as much…” The voice died off and grew muffled again. They must have been moving around the room.

  A door swung open. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. We need to call the police.”

  Megan was still frozen by the front door, and Nico nearly ran into her.

  “Fuck!” He put his hands out. “Sorry. I’m…” He was completely flustered. Panicked even. “Dammit, Megan, I can’t—”

  “What happened?” She put a hand on his arm. “I walked in and I heard you guys yelling. Why are you calling the police?”

  He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “It’s a project… The only ones who even know about it are Henry and me… You know, it’s not your problem, so I don’t want to keep you—”

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “Physically? No. Not yet.” His jaw was tight. “But when I find out who took those goddamn vines, they better pray the police get them first.”

  “What vines?”

  Nico gently moved Megan to the side and motioned over his shoulder. “Henry can explain. I really need to call Drew.”

  “Drew Bisset?” Megan had only spoken to the head detective of Moonstone Cove’s police department when he was playing chess with Katherine’s husband or when she’d accidentally found herself in the middle of a murder investigation. “Is there a dead body somewhere?”

  Please not again.

  “Not yet!” He stormed out of the building.

  What on earth?

  “Megan.” Henry waved her back, and his normally friendly face was grim. “I’ll explain. Nico’s got to call the police and then tell everyone why we’re about to be invaded by law enforcement.”

  “I am so confused right now.” Megan wandered back to Henry’s office in a daze. “I have never seen him that angry before. And I make a habit of provoking him! What the hell is going on? You and Nico are fighting?”

  “He’s just confused.” Henry collapsed in his office chair and stretched his arms up and behind his head. “Hell, I’m as confused as anyone. And I haven’t had any coffee yet; that’s probably part of the problem.”

  “Well, at least I can do something about that,” Megan said. “Come in my office. I’ve got a coffee maker there ’cause I don’t like the coffee Katrina makes in the break room.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Henry stood and followed Megan. “Katrina’s coffee is awful, and Nico called me at five this morning. He walked over to check the vines this morning, and everything was gone.”

  Megan turned on her coffee machine. “Since I drove through many acres of vines on my way into work, I’m going to assume you’re talking about something different.”

  “Little bit, yeah.” He carefully sat in one of her chairs. “Did you know there’s a greenhouse at the winery?”

  “I didn’t.” She put a coffee pod into the primed machine and placed a large mug that said You Had Me at Y’all under the filter.

  “It’s over behind Nico’s house. There’s the main house and then the garage. And then behind that, going out behind the pool area—”

  “Okay, I know the area you’re talking about.”

  “There’s a pretty extensive greenhouse. The land behind it is entirely overgrown. It’s all brush and weeds. Goes out to the edge of the property line. I’ve told him for three years now that we need to clean it up, but it’s not high on the list of priorities.”

  “And you were growing grapevines in there?” She frowned. “When they planted that hill over by the caves, the vines came in on a truck, so I assumed y’all ordered vines from a different grower.”

  “It depends.” Henry took a deep breath. “Usually we work with a vine nursery—that’s Kerry, if you’ve ever heard me talking about her—like we did with those pinot grapes we planted near the caves. When we know where we want to plant and what we want to plant, we call the nursery and order specific vines. They find the right rootstock, graft the budwood, and grow them for the first year. They come to us and we plant them.”

  “So it’s a semicustom process,” Megan said, quickly grasping what Henry and Nico might have been up to. “But you were growing something completely different?”

  “We were attempting—and succeeding—at growing a vine that’s never been grown on the Central Coast before.” Henry took a deep breath and reached for the cup of coffee she handed to him. “Have I told you anything about my family?”

  “Not really. I know you’re from Washington State and it’s a big family, but that’s all.”

  “My mom is from Washington State, but my dad actually lives in Northern California, and my grandmother—my dad’s mom—comes from a very old wine-growing family in a region of France called Jura.”

  “So wine really is in your blood.” Megan put another mug under the coffee maker. “I’ve never heard of Jura.”

  “It’s east of Burgundy, on the way to Switzerland kind of. It has… a unique topography. I spent some time studying there with my cousins during the summers when I was in college, and pretty soon after I came to work here, I realized that there is one particular area of Nico’s acreage that reminded me of Jura. So I thought…” His cheeks got a little red.

  “What is it? That all makes sense. You wanted to try growing some vines from France here in California?”

  “But the thing is, any new vine imported into California has to go through a very strict quarantine process. It takes years.”

  Megan’d had her fruit confiscated at the airport. She knew how harsh the agricultural inspectors could be. “Henry, did you sneak a grapevine from France into—”

  “France?” His eyes went wide. “Oh God no. No, no, no.” He took a breath and set his coffee on the edge of her desk. “My grandmother has some Poulsard grapevines in her garden. She brought them in the 1950s when she moved to America. I don’t think she had any idea it was illegal back then—but she brought a few vines from her father’s vineyard in Jura, and she’s managed to keep them alive and healthy in California. She made a little wine with them, and we ate them like table grapes when we were little. They were just grandma’s grapes, right?”

  “Okay.”

  “And I never really thought about that commercially until I started working here. But they’re Poulsard vines. They make a pretty unique wine if it’s done correctly. I wanted to see if we could grow them here, so…” He dropped his voice. “I brought some cuttings to Nico, and we grafted them onto some of the oldest rootstock we could find from the ranch here to create some viable clones.”

  “Clones? Y’all were making clones?” Okay, that sounded way more sci-fi than farming.

  “Cloning just means that you take cuttings from established vines and graft them onto new rootstock. You’re not growing the new vines from seed, so genetically it’s going to be the same as the vine you took the cutting from. That’s why they call it a clone, but it’s nothing new. It’s the way growers have been propagating vines for a long time.”

  “Oh, gotcha.”

  “We’ve been trying them on various rootstocks from around the winery. I even took some rootstock from the vines near Toni’s house over by the old barn. And in the past year, we’ve found some really successful combinations that solved some of the problems we might have growing Poulsard vines here. In fact, we were getting ready to do a larger-scale propagation to plant some outdoor rows, but then this morning happened and the vines are just… gone.”

  Megan shook her head. “Someone stole your project?”

  “Someone stole three years of work,” Henry said. “And possibly an opportunity to grow a completely unique grape on the Central Coast. There are easily a hundred wineries within a hundred square miles around here.” He took a long, slow breath. “And every single one of them is looking to distinguish itself from everyone else.”

  “A brand-new grape variety would do that.” Megan wasn’t a wine ex
pert, but she understood exclusivity well enough. People loved getting that thing that no one else had. They loved being in on the secret, being one of the chosen few. “So who might have stolen it?”

  “God knows.” Henry threw up his hands. “I mean, if we’d been talking about it at all, maybe anyone. But we’ve been secretive as hell on this one. Nico was adamant about it. He and I were the only ones who knew about the greenhouse. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to about all this.” He looked at the ground. “I haven’t even told Toni.”

  He looked guilty, but Megan wasn’t sure why. “Would Toni care about grapevines?”

  “Probably not. And I don’t really want to stress her out with everything she’s having to juggle right now, so I didn’t say anything.” Henry scooted forward. “Do you think she’s going to be angry?”

  Oh, bless his heart. “Uh, no.” Megan suspected Toni was going to have to try out her very best acting if she wanted to assuage Henry’s guilt, because she had a feeling her friend didn’t give two licks about new grapevines. “I’m sure she’ll understand, Henry. After all, it sounds like Nico was the one who insisted on the secrecy, and he’s her cousin. She knows what he’s like.”

  “It was a mutual decision,” Henry said. “We were the only ones working on it, and honestly, I didn’t even expect us to succeed. I just got drunk one night hanging out with Nico and got onto this whole spiel about how amazing and picky Poulsard wine is, how challenging it is to grow, and how I missed having it here. Nico got curious and ordered some bottles from France; he really liked it too, and the rest is history.”

  Except it wasn’t history, it was now, and it sounded like this project—even though Henry made it sound like a cool and fun science experiment—could potentially put Dusi Heritage Winery on the map. You didn’t spend three years practicing utter secrecy on a new project unless it had very real and very lucrative potential.

  Which meant that Nico was going to take it personally.

  Very, very personally.