A Fine Year for Love (Shores of Indian Lake)

by Catherine Lanigan

  Nate hadn’t taken his eyes off Maddie in her teal chiffon cocktail dress. “Next to my fiancée, truly amazing.”

  Maddie grinned. “Oh, Nate. How diplomatic. I love you.” She kissed him soundly.

  Just then, Gina stood near the orchestra and announced that dinner was about to be served. She asked all the guests to move to the dining tent.

  “That’s our cue,” Maddie said. “You guys sit with us at the head table. Gabe, you’re next to Nate, and Liz is next to you.”

  “Wonderful,” Gabe said, holding his arm out to Liz. “Shall we?”

  Nate extended his arm to Maddie, who pulled him close as they walked. When they’d been in high school, people in town had commented on how Nate and Maddie could walk down the street arm in arm and appear to be one person, they were so close. So in sync.

  Liz had never understood that closeness. She wondered what it would be like to get a thrill just from being next to someone.

  On their way to the tent, Liz stopped to give Mrs. Beabots a hug.

  “You look like a princess,” Mrs. Beabots told her, glancing at Gabe. “He’s a charming prince, that one,” Mrs. Beabots whispered in Liz’s ear. Then she leaned toward Gabe. “Come give me a hug, Gabriel Barzonni, and don’t pretend I haven’t known you since the day you were born.”

  “How are you, Mrs. B?” Gabe hugged her and kissed her cheek.

  “Sharp as a brand-new tack, and don’t forget it. Now,” she said, shaking her finger, “I see how you look at my little Liz. Just remember how protective I am of all my girls. She’s precious cargo.”

  “I wasn’t doing a thing,” he said defensively.

  “Is that what you call it?” Mrs. Beabots teased. Then she smiled. “Have a good time, my dear. And, Liz, tell your grandfather to give me a call.”

  “I will,” Liz assured her with a little wave.

  Gabe held out the chair for Liz. The members of the wedding party sat in chairs draped with garlands of ivy, yellow roses and white satin ribbons.

  A waiter came and placed poached salmon with hot dill and hazelnut sauce in front of each of them. Liz looked at Gabe. “Gina made this, too?”

  “The whole family loves her salmon,” Gabe said.

  A tapping of silver against crystal ended the many conversations as Angelo stood and raised his glass. “A toast to my son Nathaniel and to his lovely bride, Maddie. May your lives be blessed with abundance. Bon appetit.”

  “To Nate and Maddie,” the crowd shouted in unison.

  Gabe did not toast. His face had gone dark, and he remained silent.

  Though Liz knew she shouldn’t reveal any of her growing empathy toward him, since he had avoided the one question she’d come here to pose to him—she told herself it was just curiosity that spurred her to ask, “Something wrong?”

  His eyes blazed a bitter, angry blue, and she was certain they could cut through ice. “Not much of a toast, was it?” he grumbled. “Yes, Liz. I bought the Mattuchi vineyard. I didn’t buy their entire farm.”

  “But why?”

  He lowered his voice and took on a purposeful tone. “Why do you think? I intend to go into the wine business.”

  “And you just happen to want to do that next to my vineyard,” she retorted.

  “Exactly,” he said harshly, his eyes darting to his father. He picked at his salmon.

  “So when I found you on my land, you really did want to steal my dirt. Did you already know you were going to buy from them?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what? You just needed validation?”

  “Yep.” He pushed his chair back slightly so he could look at her face fully. “That’s really good wine you make, Liz. A few more years, and it’ll start being written up in the wine magazines. Maybe win some prizes.”

  “I should hope so,” she replied. “That’s the goal, anyway.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes sliding back toward his father. “That’s the goal.”

  Liz sensed an undercurrent of suspicion and even jealousy in Gabe, but then, she had to admit she was the one who had come to this party with ulterior motives. Perhaps she was filtering everything through her earlier mindset. She had wanted to delve deeper into his reasons for buying the Mattuchi land, but maybe it was just as he’d said. He wanted to grow some grapes. She knew the Barzonni land was ill-suited for a vineyard. It was a gold mine for its current crops, but that was all. For wine, the vines needed Lake Michigan. Just as her father had told her.

  “Are you okay?” Liz asked.

  “Sure,” he said, patting her arm. “Do you like the salmon?”

  “I do. But you didn’t like the toast.”

  “You’d think he would mention the word love, wouldn’t you? It is an engagement party after all.”

  “Maybe he was nervous or not used to giving speeches,” she offered.

  “I don’t make excuses for him. You don’t have to, either,” Gabe grunted. Then just as suddenly as the dark mood had descended, Gabe’s eyes brightened and he smiled his Mr. Charming smile at her. “Promise me one more dance before you go tonight?”

  “Okay.”

  Gabe appeared to relax once he had her answer.

  Liz couldn’t help but wonder exactly how practiced Gabe’s smile was. What was he hiding? And why was his tone so often underscored by bitterness and anger?

  Glancing around at the incredible beauty Gina had created for this party, Liz felt as if she were living in a fairy tale. But she wondered if, like in some fairy tales, there was something wicked hiding behind a magic curtain.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT WAS AFTER midnight when Liz drove up to her farmhouse and found all the lights still on. It had been a long time since Liz had been out late enough that her grandfather would have felt the need to wait up for her.

  “Grandpa?” she called as she set her evening bag and truck keys on a dark walnut table in the foyer.

  “In the living room,” he called.

  She could hear the rustle of newspapers as she entered the room. He always complained he never had time to read the daily news. Judging by the stack of papers at his feet, he’d been reading all night. “You didn’t have to wait up,” she said, bending down to kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder.

  “Sure I did,” he replied. “I want to know what happened. And you know I’m not talking about the food they served.” He shot her a purposeful look.

  “You want to know about Gabe.”

  “Yes. And what he’s up to.”

  She untied her espadrilles and took them off. Then she tucked her feet under her skirt as she sat down on a sofa across from him. “He bought the Mattuchi vineyard, just as we’d heard. He told me he plans to go into the wine business.”

  Sam tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “We’re doomed.”

  Liz pursed her lips into the pout she’d practiced since she was a child, meant to display her disdain. “We are not. He’s a novice. He doesn’t know a thing about wine. I think he’s playing.”

  “Playing?”

  “Sure. Just like his brother Rafe, who plays with racehorses. This is Gabe’s...folly, I’m going to call it. I, for one, intend to beat him at his own game.”

  Sam shook his head. “You don’t understand. No matter what the game, they can play for higher stakes than we can. They can stay at the table all night long. They have so much money, Liz, that I...”

  She clamped her hand over his forearm to arrest his protests. “I’m betting he doesn’t get off the ground. Oh, let him buy some equipment and pretend he’s in the wine business. This life takes all your heart and soul—”

  “And then some.”

  “It certainly does, Grandpa. We know that. Dad knew that. And that’s how we’ll outlast him. He can spend some money, and when his new t
oy loses its shine, he’ll toss it aside and go on to something else.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I watched him at the party.” She shrugged. “He impresses me as the noncommittal type.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Call it female intuition. There were a lot of women there who stole his eye too many times. Maddie and Sarah told me he’s never had a serious girlfriend in his life. If he’s that way with relationships, he’ll be that way with this business.”

  Sam rubbed his chin, but he remained silent.

  “What are you thinking, Grandpa?”

  Sam took a deep breath. “Not sure. I don’t know anything about him except that he’s Angelo’s son. And that bit of knowledge bothers me. Angelo has never made a move that wasn’t successful. He’s wily, smart and focused, and he never misses a trick. I’ve heard other farmers say Angelo cheated them out of their farms in the old days when he was buying up land. That’s how he came to own so many acres south of town. He bought out his neighbors.”

  “How could he cheat them?”

  “Technically, he couldn’t. They lost their land because Angelo won all the canning contracts. Their crops weren’t as good as his, so they weren’t able to sell their crops, and they went bankrupt. Once they were on their knees, Angelo moved in for the kill.”

  Liz’s eyes grew round. “Do you think that’s what’s happening to Mr. Mattuchi?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten wind of it. If so, he’s being very quiet about it. But it makes sense to me that Gabriel learned his father’s tricks. Once Gabe gets a foothold in the wine market over there and takes a few of our vendors from us, we start to lose customers. Then when we’re desperate, he tries to buy our vineyard from us.”

  Liz bolted to her feet. “Well, we’re never selling. Ever! This has been Crenshaw land since you were a young man. Despite this situation with the taxes, we’ll figure it out. We’ll make more wine. But we will never leave this land, no matter who tries to take it from us!” She pounded her fist into her palm.

  “God love you, Lizzie.” Sam rose from his recliner and put his arms around her. “I agree wholeheartedly. I wish your daddy could see you now. Matthew would be so proud of you.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks for that, Grandpa. I wish he were here to give me advice.”

  “I know exactly what he’d say,” Sam replied.

  “What’s that?”

  “Take no prisoners.” Sam leaned over and kissed Liz’s cheek before climbing the stairs. “Good night, sweetheart. Sleep well. We have a busy day tomorrow. Should be a lot of tourists.”

  “Good night, Grandpa.”

  Liz studied the rhinestones on the hem of her skirt as they gleamed in the lamplight. Was it only an hour ago she was dancing in Gabe’s arms? She’d felt so comfortable, she could have danced with him all night and then some. The hours after supper had passed with lightning speed. She hadn’t wanted the party to end.

  She had sensed his power and confidence, yet she’d gotten a dozen conflicting impressions, as well. There was no question he loved and respected his mother, but when the conversation had turned to his father, he had immediately grown tense. Or worse, clammed up and remained silent. Was he angry with Angelo? Why?

  What if the stories her grandfather had told her about Angelo were true? Allegedly he had taken advantage of his neighbors back in the sixties when he’d first come to Indian Lake. Was he ruthless? And had he taught Gabe to be just like him?

  Liz rubbed her forehead, hoping to swipe away the questions that continued to flog her when it came to Gabe. It would be easier to define him if she weren’t attracted to him. It took a lot of courage to admit to this very serious flaw in her equations.

  She was attracted to Gabe.

  But now that she was aware there was a problem, she could fight it.

  How easily she’d seen him as the enemy before the party. She’d been prepared to charm him. She was supposed to wrangle information out of him. Luckily, she’d managed to find out that he did intend to go into the wine business. He was going to be her competition.

  That alone should have made her despise him on the spot.

  But it didn’t.

  She’d been intrigued, if anything. It would take several years for him to get his vines up and growing, to let the wine ferment, to age the bottles and finally to get the wine to market. And that was just the beginning. Success in the business was so complex, so dependent on a thousand nuances of weather, skill and knowledge, and on educated associates like enologists and agronomists, that Liz believed Gabe would be disheartened within the first year.

  Tenacity. Passion. That’s what a vintner had to have.

  Liz’s passion was practically inbred. But what of Gabe’s?

  Was he becoming a vintner on a whim? Did he have any idea what such a life would be like? Was this his bid to build something of his own, or was he simply bored with tomatoes?

  Liz thought of even more questions she should have asked Gabe but had not. At the time, she’d been too mesmerized by him to think.

  Some spy she’d turned out to be. It was a good thing she’d never applied for a government job. She wouldn’t have lasted fifteen seconds. But then, she’d never reacted to a man the way she had to Gabe. It wasn’t his tuxedo or the music or the moonlight, either. She’d felt the same magnetism when she’d aimed her gun at him.

  Reason told her it was just chemistry, like the fermentation that took place in her tanks and the aging that occurred in her oak barrels. Chemistry was not the same as trust or respect.

  Gabe had done nothing to win either from her. In fact, his actions had indicated the opposite. The problem, Liz finally realized, was not with Gabe at all. The problem was with her.

  She had to put these feelings into perspective, she thought as she rose and picked up her shoes. They served no purpose. They wouldn’t help preserve her vineyard. The party had been a one-off. After all, how many out-of-this-world parties like that was she going to attend in her life?

  Liz grabbed her evening bag and crossed to the staircase. She placed her hand on the newel and looked up to the stained glass window at the top of the stairs. It showed a vineyard with the sun shining down on the grapes. Sam had told her that the history of winemaking was as old as man. That was probably true. Sumerians, Assyrians and Babylonians had made wine eight thousand years ago. Wine was part of the civilized world. Liz liked that she was carrying on an ancient art. She took a great deal of pride in that. Just like this old house and the land they owned. There was history here. Family. A sense of tradition. She liked all that, as well.

  On her way to her room, she passed her grandfather’s closed door. She could hear him snoring quietly.

  She continued down the hall and opened her door, picking up the damp towel she’d used to dry her hair and tossing it in her white wicker hamper.

  She pulled her phone out of her purse and saw there was a text from a number she didn’t recognize.

  Gorgeous. I had a wonderful time tonight. Let me know that you got home all right. GB.

  What?

  Why would Gabe care about her safety? He barely knew her. She’d never had a man ask about her trip home before. Because Liz was a private person, her first reaction was suspicion. But oddly, she didn’t feel as if her privacy had been invaded. She didn’t feel violated. In fact, she felt a strange sense of calm and reassurance. There wasn’t the first trace of alarm. Instead, she liked it.

  She felt protected, as she had when she used to tuck her hand into her father’s and he would gently squeeze it to let her know he was there. Caring. Shielding her from harm. She’d always felt safe when he was around. And tonight, she’d felt safe in Gabe’s arms. She hadn’t expected that.

  He had been a surprise to her. And a conundrum.

  A
man like Gabe had reasons for his actions. She didn’t believe for a minute any of his words were uncalculated.

  She stared at the screen and her back stiffened defensively. The animosity and suspicion she’d tamped down minutes before rose again. She tapped out a message.

  How did you get my number?

  His reply was nearly instantaneous.

  I confess. I told Maddie I needed your number so I could ask you about those fantastic wines you selected.

  “Sneaky!” she grumbled aloud. Then she wrote another message.

  You could have just asked me.

  She stared at the phone. The reply, this time, was not immediate. Good. Maybe he’d think twice about who he was dealing—

  Can you blame me for feeling a bit intimidated? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Liz. I just thought the night ended too soon. I could have gone for one more dance.

  Liz chewed her bottom lip, wondering if answering him was a wise move. She chose to be logical.

  The orchestra left. Remember?

  Who needs music?

  He was doing it again. Sucking her in. She could so easily allow herself to fall into his romantic trap. Liz had managed all these years on her own without the snarls and heartbreak of romance. She intended to maintain the status quo. She had to stop Gabe. Now.

  Good night, Gabe.

  Good night, Liz.

  Liz exhaled and collapsed onto her bed. She wondered if she would get any sleep at all. She had too many visions of Gabe in her mind.

  CHAPTER TEN

  GABE SLID HIS FINGER across the screen of his smartphone and felt a smile warm his face. The cleanup crew was folding the rented chairs and the orchestra breakdown team had just carted away the last of the sound equipment. He leaned his head back and looked up at the glittering sea of stars overhead. “Stellar night,” he mused and crossed his hands behind his head.

  Gabe was baffled at how quickly and how often thoughts of Liz invaded his head. Before the party, he’d been curious about her, especially because he was interested in her land. He’d had several opportunities tonight to ask her bluntly if she would consider selling. But he hadn’t.