Summer Kisses

by Melinda Curtis

  Agnes almost stopped, but Happy Hour ended soon. She dragged her granddaughter behind her. “Christine, you played mad scientist with different flavors of lemonade when you were two years old. Why would you want to change your career?”

  “I might want to be a chef.” Christine looked unhappy.

  This time, Agnes stopped on the corner and looked at her granddaughter, taking in the somber eyes and pale skin. “You hate to cook. What’s going on? Have you been sick?”

  “No, Nana. It’s nothing I can’t fix.” But she worried the lipstick off her bottom lip.

  “You need a change.”

  “That’s what Dad says. He keeps hounding me about leaving Ippolito Cellars, but he doesn’t understand they’ve become like family to me. Leaving would feel like a betrayal.”

  Betrayal seemed to be on everyone’s mind lately. Flynn thought Becca betrayed him by not telling her about the ring. Becca thought Agnes was betraying Harold by not wearing the ring.

  Christine looked at Agnes’s hand on her arm. “Where’d you get that ring? It’s beautiful.”

  In the excitement of waiting for Christine to arrive, Agnes had forgotten to take it off. “You’ve never seen this ring? Not in all the times you played in my jewelry box?”

  “No.”

  “It must have been tucked into a corner.” Agnes hated lying to her granddaughter about the ring more than she did about the reason for inviting her for dinner tonight.

  They crossed the square toward El Rosal, Agnes tugging Christine all the way.

  Will, Slade and Flynn were sitting on the patio, along with Emma and Mayor Larry.

  Good, good, good. Agnes headed full-speed for their outdoor table.

  Christine dragged anchor.

  “Look who stopped by,” Agnes said, hailing her targets. “It’s Christine.”

  Agnes made the introductions.

  Slade, the oldest of the winery men, was about Christine’s age and said he remembered seeing her around town during her occasional visits.

  Flynn stared so hard at the ruby ring that Agnes tucked her hand in her pocket.

  “You make some fabulous wine,” Emma said, shading her gaze. “We had it the other night and really enjoyed it.”

  Christine graciously thanked them.

  Slade produced a business card. “Can you send me your résumé? We’re hiring someone with vision to help us make our winery a reality.”

  Christine took his card.

  “We plan to give our winemaker carte blanche,” Flynn said coolly. “Since we know nothing about wine.”

  “And include our winemaker in hiring the rest of the staff.” Will sweetened the deal.

  Christine shot Agnes with a glance.

  Anyone else looking at Christine would have seen a careful smile.

  But Agnes knew she was in trouble. Big, big trouble. Christine didn’t appreciate being maneuvered. And her father would probably want to weigh in on the offer, drat the man.

  “I have to say, we don’t stand on ceremony here.” Flynn tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “Except for Slade. We can’t break him of the tie habit.”

  The group turned their attention to Slade, who smoothed his sunny-yellow tie and smiled. “Sue me. I have style.”

  Christine tapped the card against her fingertips. She opened her mouth to say something, most likely rejecting the offer to interview.

  Agnes knew she was going to ruin this opportunity. “We’ve got to go. Christine has to drive back to Napa this evening and I’ve got a roast in the oven.” Agnes hustled Christine toward the house. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think I’m going to kill you. How could you do that to me? Who sets their granddaughter up like that?”

  “Christine, you’re unhappy. You have been for months.”

  “I agree, but you can’t just make decisions for me about where to live and work.”

  “Why not? Your father does.”

  Christine stared at her for a moment and then shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Yes, but did you like them?”

  Christine didn’t answer.

  Not then. Not during dinner. Not even when Agnes bid her good-night.

  * * *

  IT WAS OFFICIAL. Mayor Larry was a mooch.

  It wasn’t good enough that they bought him drinks. They had to buy him dinner at El Rosal, as well.

  Flynn had texted Becca. Don’t hold dinner for me.

  She’d sent him a succinct reply. OK.

  He sat there on the patio of El Rosal, the breeze teasing his too-short hair, staring at his cell phone, wanting a longer reply.

  Mayor Larry recounted one of his favorite stories, one Flynn had heard a hundred times. The one about how he and his wife had produced so many tie-dyed T-shirts for some seventies rock band tour that their hands were black and the local doctor thought they might have a circulatory disease requiring amputation.

  Flynn laughed at the obligatory high points and texted Becca. How is G.E.?

  Becca’s reply was quick. Wheezy, but good.

  Flynn rubbed his hand over his forehead. He wanted to know how her day had been. He’d bet she hadn’t found the time to talk to Agnes about returning the ring. If she’d give it back, he could trust Becca. He could be the man who kept her on the right side of the law, like Joey’s significant other.

  “Flynn?” Emma tapped his shoulder. “Do you want to bowl tonight? Amy’s coming.”

  Amy was Will’s sister and Emma’s best friend. Flynn had forgotten it was bowling night. They bowled against Larry’s team once a week. Emma had been taking Flynn’s place these past few weeks so that he could spend every night at home with Grandpa Ed. “You go ahead.” She was a better bowler than he was anyway.

  Flynn nodded at Slade. “I’ll get the check.”

  The group quickly disbanded.

  Flynn sat thinking. About Joey. About Becca. About the values he’d lived by since he’d come to Harmony Valley.

  Becca needed prodding to do the right thing.

  He signed the bill, leaving a generous tip, and headed toward Agnes’s house.

  She was surprised to see him at her door. “If you’re looking for Christine, she’s already left.”

  “I came to talk about the ring.” He noticed she’d taken if off.

  Agnes didn’t ask which ring. She blushed and ushered him inside. Her house was small, but the living room looked like a man cave, with a big flat screen, an overstuffed couch and a leather recliner. Agnes had tried to claim it for her own with a quilt over the couch back, doilies on the leather and pink throw pillows.

  “Becca’s in trouble.” Flynn sat on the couch and explained about Becca’s acceptance of money to get her out of debt. “I don’t know why she gave you the ring, but I know that once what’s-his-name’s—”

  “Harold.” Agnes sank into the recliner, looking small and lost.

  “When Harold’s family finds out about it, they’ll tell the private investigator and Becca will suffer for it.”

  Agnes’s face turned the ashen color of her short hair. She told him the history of the ring, trying to swear him to secrecy.

  It was a touching story, no doubt about it. Flynn could understand why Becca had brought the ring to her. But it didn’t change the fact that it put Becca in jeopardy. “Agnes, if the police get brought into this, everyone will know the story behind the ring.”

  “You think I’m being selfish.”

  “Little bit, yeah.”

  “My husband wasn’t a romantic man. He was practical. My days revolved around his needs and the needs of our children and grandchildren.” She worried her finger where the ring had been. “Now he’s gone. My children don’t need me. If my grandchildren think of
me, it’s because it’s a holiday or an afterthought. Having Harold’s ring reminds me that I was once a young, vibrant woman with the entire world at my feet. Not some responsible old lady with nothing to show for her years but a clean house and a nicely kept yard.”

  Flynn wasn’t expecting such emotion. He wasn’t particularly comfortable with it. “It’s a symbol of you when you were younger.”

  “Symbols are important. That’s why we cherish wedding rings and family heirlooms.” Her delicate chin jutted out. “They remind us of love, of what’s honorable in the world, and how we’ve made our mark on it.”

  Flynn tried a different tack. “You’re a vital part of this community, Agnes.”

  “I’d lost track of that until Becca brought me the ring.”

  “And you’re willing to keep it, even if it puts Becca’s reputation and livelihood at risk?”

  “I...” Her determination deflated.

  “Come with me to the house. Talk to her about it. Please.”

  After a moment, Agnes nodded. “But only if you listen to me. About Becca. About loving a widow.”

  Boundaries overstepped. Flynn held up a hand. “Please don’t go there.”

  “Posh! Forget your fragile male ego for a moment and listen to me.” Agnes may have been the size of a sixth-grader, but her voice had the quality of a middle-school principal.

  In all the time he’d spent in Harmony Valley, Flynn had never considered Agnes a spitfire until now. He gave her a brief nod.

  Agnes cleared her throat. “Did you know people you love stake out pieces inside your heart?”

  “Like vampires.” Flynn grinned.

  “Focus, please. I’m not going to repeat myself.” Agnes spun her wedding ring. “Some days I look at my peach tree and cry because I remember the day Manny planted it for me. Some days I spot a big motorcycle on the road and laugh because I remember how Manny tried his friend’s motorcycle and could barely shift gears. Some days these are private moments. Some days I share my grief or my love with my friends and family. I’m overprotective of my personal space. Most widows are.”

  “Have you been spending enough time with Rose and Mildred? Because this conversation sounds more like something you’d share with them.” Flynn had an idea what direction this was going in, but he wasn’t going to make it easy on Agnes, him being a man and all.

  “Listen up.” Her thin gray brows crowded above her nose. “When a woman’s husband dies, she never stops loving him. That piece of her heart is his territory and off-limits forever. When a new man comes along, she has to find a new piece of real estate in her heart for them to stake out. But by now real estate is scarce. Staking it out is risky and scary.”

  “Are you talking about Becca?” Flynn was smiling on the inside.

  “You have to ask?” She sighed. “And here I was so hopeful.”

  He took pity on her. “Becca doesn’t want to fall in love again.”

  “And who can blame her? With all that risk and fear of losing a man, not just to death, but by becoming attached to him and being let go? It’s terrifying. It’s easier to move on.”

  He stood, hoping she’d take the hint.

  She didn’t. She sat. A stubborn, miniature woman in a big man’s recliner. “When the lawsuit is over. When the ring is gone. When the reason for Becca being in Harmony Valley is no longer.” Agnes leaned forward. “Your love needs to be stronger than her fear. Or she’ll leave you.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FLYNN HELD OPEN the door for Agnes.

  Grandpa Ed was snoozing in his recliner, his breathing labored. Truman was watching a kid’s sitcom, Abby nestled at his side.

  Becca sat folding laundry on the couch. She whisked it out of the way. “A visit? So late? Is everything all right?”

  “Agnes wants to talk about the ring,” Flynn said, gesturing for Agnes to take a seat on the couch on one side of Becca while he sat on the other.

  His grandfather roused. “What ring? Becca’s wedding ring? Don’t be jealous of a dead man.”

  “Not Becca’s ring.” Flynn sat on the arm of the couch next to Becca. “The ring Agnes is wearing. Becca’s last client was an old flame of Agnes’s. He wanted her to have it.”

  “So much for oaths of secrecy,” Agnes muttered.

  “I never promised.” But now Flynn felt guilty.

  Grandpa Ed nodded. “I wondered what brought Becca to town.”

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like good old Harold put anything about the disposition of the ring in his will.” Flynn gave Becca and Agnes disapproving looks.

  “And you think Harold’s heirs will discover the ring missing?” Grandpa Ed was on his game.

  Flynn had to give the old man credit. He was still sharp when it came to fitting pieces together.

  “That puts Becca’s legal hearing at risk,” Grandpa Ed said.

  “How did you know about my hearing?” Becca exchanged a glance with Flynn, who shrugged. “I didn’t tell him.”

  “Do you honestly think I’d hire someone without conducting a background check?” Grandpa Ed used the recliner’s controls to sit up higher.

  “Yes,” Becca, Agnes and Flynn said.

  “Nonsense. I may be old and sick, but I’m not a fool. I called someone the day we met her.”

  Flynn grinned. Of course he had. It probably made the old spymaster extremely happy to gather intel on a drifting caregiver.

  But that didn’t solve anything. “Can we get back to the issue? I think Agnes should return the ring.” Flynn gave Agnes a stern look.

  “But it’s not your decision,” Becca chastised. “It was Harold’s wish and the ring makes Agnes happy.” She squeezed Agnes’s hand.

  “I have to agree with Becca,” his grandfather said.

  “If you want to keep the ring, you keep the ring, Agnes.” Then Becca’s voice lowered. “I’ll be fine. Flynn and Edwin are going to write me letters of reference.”

  “You’re taking a huge risk, Becca.” Flynn clung tenuously to his temper. “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Flynn,” she said gently, turning to him. “I haven’t asked you to protect me.”

  That’s when he noticed she wore his grandmother’s necklace. His reaction must have been read by everyone in the room, except Truman, because the three adults all started talking at once.

  “It’s very sweet of you to be watching out for Becca,” Agnes said, misreading his expression.

  “Let me explain,” Becca began.

  She was drowned out by Grandpa Ed. “I gave it to her.” He sucked in air like a new vacuum.

  Flynn was sure his jaw dropped onto his chest. “Why would you do that?”

  “Let’s not go into why.” Becca made eyes at his grandfather. “He tried to give it to me this morning and—”

  “Tried? You’re wearing it!”

  Becca clung to the pendant. “I told him it was more appropriate to give it to Kathy.”

  “You’re right!”

  “Stop,” Grandpa Ed wheezed. “I want you and Becca to have it.”

  For a moment, the only sound in the room was the laugh track from Truman’s sitcom.

  “He saw us on the porch last night,” Becca explained in an urgent whisper. “I told him I couldn’t accept it.”

  “Not until she got your permission.” Grandpa Ed pierced him with a blurry stare, as if he was having problems focusing.

  Flynn was familiar with the pendant’s story. His grandfather wanted him to declare his intentions toward Becca. “I can’t do it.” If she wasn’t going to do the right thing, they had no future.

  Without another word to him, Becca placed the necklace in his hand and left with Agnes.

  * * *

  TRUMAN RAN UP and clung to Bec
ca the next morning. “Uncle Flynn says you’re going to be arrested, just like my Grandpa Joey.”

  “Over my dead body,” Edwin roared from inside.

  “Everyone needs to take a breath.” Becca led Truman inside, stroking Truman’s ginger hair. “Agnes is not returning the ring. Harold wanted her to have it. I’m not going to jail.”

  Flynn stood in the middle of the living room, shaking his head. “This is wrong and you know it.”

  She hadn’t agonized over the ring and losing Flynn all night long just to be confronted by him again this morning. Becca considered walking out the door, but there were Edwin and Truman to consider. But she didn’t move beyond the foyer. She hooked an arm around Truman.

  Agnes arrived in her green Buick and hurried up the stairs. “I can’t give it up, Flynn. It feels like I’m losing Harold all over again.”

  “Becca’s right,” Edwin said. “If that man meant you to have his ring, you should have his ring.”

  “He didn’t write his wishes in a will.” Flynn was wound so high, none of their arguments could reach him. “And I should point out you gave Becca a necklace and you didn’t write your wishes down about that, either. It’s her word against the family. Who’s the judge going to believe?”

  Agnes looked crestfallen. Becca took her hand, the one with Harold’s ring on it.

  “Are you saying you think Becca coerced your grandmother’s necklace from me?” Edwin was working himself into a gasping frenzy. “I was hoping she’d give you half the necklace, just like your grandmother did with me.”

  “How long have you been arguing?” Becca’s cheeks heated. “Please. This isn’t good for Edwin.”

  “Becca, there’s right and there’s wrong. You’re operating somewhere in between. You have to see this could end your career as a caregiver. These people, these heirs, are going to band together to get you. You won’t be employable. And you could go to prison.”

  Truman started to cry. Edwin’s face grew red.

  “Flynn, please stop saying the P word. At this point, it’s a civil suit.” Becca tried to keep her voice calm, hugging Truman to her. “Life isn’t cut-and-dried. Your grandfather paid your father to disappear from your life. Was he right or wrong? And when your father took the money, was he right or wrong?”