She shrugged and sipped her coffee, waiting.
“I have an accounting degree, but I really want to play my music. I hoped that maybe here I could do both.”
“What kind of music do you play?” she asked, the hint of a smile lighting her eyes.
“I play a little jazz and classical, but I formed my calluses on rock and roll.”
“Yes!” Davy yelled, pumping his arm. “I knew it.”
“Davy…” his mother sent him a withering look and he went back to eating his fruit.
“So what do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked.
“I’ve wanted to be a wine vintner since I was ten. Jack told me I could work for him when I got out of high school but,” she glanced at Davy, “life happened. I’ve taken some college courses online for business and agriculture but I think experience is most important in this business.”
“I’m sure you’re right. I know absolutely nothing about wine or grapes, except that I like them. I want to be able to help Billie, but I don’t know what I can do.”
“That’s no reason to run off. You should stay and support her and do whatever she asks you to. Even a green-behind-the-ears accountant should be able to help with the Crush.”
“Crush? I keep hearing that. You mean, walking on the grapes?”
She grinned. “Crush is another word for harvest. We bring in the grapes and crush them for wine. It’s a time for hard work and celebration. Everybody pitches in at a small winery like Fredrickson’s.”
“Will you be there too?”
“I usually come and help out. But I have my own grapes to harvest as well. Enough to keep me fairly busy for a time.”
“Mom lets me help,” Davy said.
“I bet you’re good at it.”
“Yep!”
“I guess you two have a mutual admiration society going on. Davy seems to think you’re an extraordinary soccer player.”
He grinned over at Davy who was turned around on his stool, watching them. “Extraordinary? I don’t think so. I’m a passable soccer player. Good enough to play more than I sat on the bench in college, but nothing special.”
Margaret raised her brows, obviously amused. “That’s not what I heard.”
“Yeah! You bounced the ball off your head and knees just like those guys on TV.” Davy jumped down from his perch to go through the motions. He looked like a miniature mime without the white makeup. “Want me to get the ball so you can show Mom your cool moves?” he offered.
Margaret burst out laughing and then clamped a hand over her mouth as though to stance the flow, but her eyes continued to sparkle with mirth.
Adam shook his head. “No thanks. I think she gets the picture.”
“Are you staying for dinner?”
“Davy! What have I told you…” she began.
“Not to invite people without talking to you first? But you’re right here… so can he?”
Adam loved seeing the pink color stain her cheeks, but he didn’t want to overstay his welcome, so he let her off the hook. “I have to get back to the winery. Billie had me doing some bookwork and I never really finished. But thanks for the invitation,” he said, rising from his chair. He met Margaret’s surprised look with a smile. “Maybe you’ll give me a raincheck?”
“What’s that mean?” Davy asked.
“It means that Adam is welcome to come for dinner tomorrow night if he’s available,” she said, not looking away.
“I’d love to.” Adam moved to put his nearly full cup in the sink. “Thanks for the coffee and for showing me the view.”
Outside on the steps, he turned and took one more look at the beautiful woman standing inside the screen door, her son beside her. “See you tomorrow night then.”
She nodded.
As he opened the car door and slid into the seat he heard Davy say, “Oh shoot! Tomorrow I’m going to the winery to work with Billie after school and she’s making tacos for dinner.”
“So? You love tacos,” he heard Margaret say, before they moved away from the door and out of his hearing.
He twisted the key in the ignition and the engine revved to life. It felt like his heart restarted as well. He pulled the door closed and slipped the car into reverse. She’d known full well they would be dining alone tomorrow. He imagined she didn’t do anything without thinking it through. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Lucky or leery? Maybe a little of both. She was a complicated woman. But he couldn’t help smiling as he pulled onto the highway and drove the half mile down the road to Fredrickson’s.
*****
“Where have you been all afternoon?” Adam demanded when his sister strolled leisurely into the office a quarter after six. Sally had already left for the day and other than the cleanup crew in the tasting room, he assumed he was the only one still working.
She looked a little too happy to have spent the last hours discussing her failing business with Handel. She didn’t reply, but dropped her purse on Sally’s desk and flopped down in the swivel chair, a grin stretching her lips like a Cheshire cat—or like a cat that ate a canary—he wasn’t sure which.
“So you’ve got nothing to say after deserting me at that restaurant with a woman who clearly abhorred me and running off with your boyfriend like a teenager in heat?”
“Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all. “I meant to be back earlier, but you know…” She held her hand out toward him and waggled her fingers, loaded down by a diamond ring that sparkled wickedly in the fluorescent office light.
“What the…?”
“My sentiments exactly,” Sally said, bursting through the door and grabbing Billie’s hand to stare at the rock on her finger. “I can’t believe Handel finally popped the question. It’s been long enough!”
“Where did you come from?” he asked, “I thought you went home.”
“Thanks for your invaluable vigilance, newbie, but I was just in back talking to Loren and picking up a bottle of wine for my date.” Sure enough she held a bottle of Fredrickson’s against her chest with one arm while clinging to his sister’s hand with the other.
He rescued it from her and set it carefully on the desk. With both arms free, she threw them around Billie and hugged her tight, mooning over the ring like it was the first engagement diamond she’d ever seen.
“It’s beautiful! Did he get down on one knee? Did you make him beg? Was it the most romantic moment of your life?”
The rapid-fire questions seemed to take his sister aback. She continued to grin, wordlessly.
“Hey, slow down there, red. Can’t you see Billie’s not firing on all cylinders? As a divorce attorney, I’m sure this whole marriage thing has her tied up in knots. One of them must be shutting off her voice box.”
Billie scowled at him while managing to extricate herself from Sally’s clutches. She stood up and gently pushed her over excited friend away. “Handel’s proposal was probably everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I’ll leave it at that.”
Her cryptic reply only made Sally more curious. “What? No details?”
“What’s the deal with you romance types? You get all twittery when a guy carves your name in his egg foo young or hides the ring in a crème cheese wonton even if you crack a tooth finding it, and you think everyone else craves the same experience.”
Adam grinned. “So what you’re telling us is…no sky writing?”
Sally gave a disappointed groan, picked up the bottle of burgundy, and headed for the door. “Midwesterners,” she muttered loud enough for them to hear. “Can’t wait to see what your wedding will be like. A keg of beer, some sparklers, and three kinds of potato salad after the preacher man pronounces you man and wife down along the cow pasture.”
“Don’t worry, you aren’t invited!” Billie called after her.
The sound of the front door banging shut was her reply.
She sighed. “Why can’t people just be happy for other people instead of always trying to rewrite the occasion to fit their d
reams?”
“Don’t ask me,” Adam said, watching her shut down the computer. “I’m a guy. I don’t dream about getting married. Talk about nightmares!”
“If your music doesn’t pan out, I’m sure you’ll have a bright future in comedy. You should take your routine to the Standup Club downtown. They have a lot of drive-by shootings.”
“Ouch! Is that how you share the love in your moment of joy? You should be ecstatic. Run off and call Mom and inform her you’ve finally said yes to a man, so she can start counting down the days until grandchildren begin popping out.”
She ignored his teasing for the most part but her lips tightened at mention of their mother. When they exited the door of the winery Sally’s car was already gone; a haze of gravel dust left in its wake.
“You did say yes, didn’t you?”
She stuck her hand two inches from his nose. “Of course I said yes. How else would I get this ring?”
“True.”
He kept pace with her as she strode toward the house. The temperature had dropped with the sun. It felt almost comfortable. He wasn’t accustomed to ninety-degree weather at the end of September, but he supposed he could learn to live with it. Snow and ice would make a much better vacation get-away than dealing with it for nine months of the year.
Inside, Billie flipped lights on as she hurried through the house. She never could stand to be in an unlit room. He understood now the reason for that, and regretted teasing her about it when she was a teenager. The fancy leather couch greeted him when he stepped into the living room. He chose the recliner instead and stretched out with a sigh of contentment.
“You want something to drink?” Billie called from the kitchen.
“No thanks.”
A couple minutes later she joined him, a cola in hand, and plopped down on the couch. She took a long drink and laid her head back, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
Adam watched her from beneath his lashes. She looked exhausted. Even with the glow of happiness about her, there was a hint of disappointment. She opened her eyes and caught him watching her.
“What are you looking at?”
He grinned, but refrained from using one of the timeless brotherly comebacks that quickly formed on his tongue. He noticed whenever she sat on the couch she always stroked the leather as though remembering something. “Mom said your furniture was ripped up when Sean Parker broke in that night. That must have been quite a shock.”
She ran a finger down the seam of the armrest. “A visit from a mountain lion would have been preferable. Sean Parker’s handiwork was from a violent and cruel mind.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” His mother had told him of the man who raped Billie when she was a child; the reason she had suffered night terrors for years; the man who would soon be her father-in-law. At least he was safely behind prison bars for a good long time. Adam had never met him, but if the man showed up again while he was around, he’d make damn sure he never hurt another child.
For a moment he imagined a depth of unhealed pain flooded Billie’s eyes, but then she shrugged. “It’s all right. My therapist tells me that holding things in is not healthy. To think they go to school for eight long years to be able to spout that drivel.” She grinned and changed the subject. “So, when are you going to figure out how to get Fredrickson Winery making money again instead of losing it? That’s why I hired you, you know. Do you know a good magician?”
He pulled the lever of his chair and sat up straight to meet her at eye level. “No, but I have a better idea.”
Her gaze widened in anticipation. “Do tell.”
*****
Margaret answered the phone on the third ring. Her hello was met with two seconds of dead air. Telemarketers again. She set the phone back in its cradle, then stood there staring at the thing. She didn’t believe in premonitions, but felt sure it would ring again. Even though she’d anticipated it, when it rang the sound still made her jump. She tentatively reached out and picked it up.
“Hello? Margaret? Are you there?”
“Adam,” she finally responded. His deep baritone was already familiar and strangely comforting. She relaxed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “What’s up?”
“Are you busy? Cause I can call back later.”
She smiled against the receiver. She definitely had this guy doing somersaults to please her. On the one hand, she was flattered. On the other hand, she didn’t want to come across as controlling or a shrew. She could be spontaneous when she tried. Sometimes she even allowed Davy to stay up past his bedtime on a school night or gardened in the heat of the afternoon rather than the morning.
Davy was taking a shower before bed and Handel hadn’t come home from the office yet. She was alone—for the moment. Not that she needed to be alone to speak with Adam on the telephone. After all, what would he have to say that would require privacy?
“Now’s fine. What is it?”
“Just wondered if you could get away for a while. Take a walk with me. So we could talk.”
“Talk?” She felt like a parrot repeating the word, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. His request scared her more than if he’d asked to sleep with her. She’d learned to handle those kinds of requests over the years, to have a quick comeback, to wilt a guy’s advances with her “back off” glare. But this—talking while walking—backlit by the moon and stars, would require interaction—maybe even kissing…
She felt heat rise up her neck. Where the heck had that thought come from? She had no intention of kissing Adam Fredrickson. She heard the shower shut off in the bathroom down the hall. Davy would be in his pajamas and running out to say goodnight any minute. She couldn’t leave him all alone in the house while she walked around outside with some man she’d barely met, talking and laughing and…definitely not kissing!
“Margaret? You still there?”
She clutched the receiver closer to her ear and glanced down the hall. “Yeah, I’m here. What did you want to talk about? Can’t it wait until tomorrow night? You’re still coming for dinner, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I just thought since our siblings are taking the plunge that maybe we should get to know each other better. In fact, Billie sort of gave me the idea. She said walking through the vineyard at night was a good place to think and…”
“The plunge?”
“Yeah, you know…”
“No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?” She had a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She sat down on one of the stools and rested her elbows on the counter, her head with the phone pressed to her ear cradled in her hands.
“Hasn’t Handel told you…?”
She heard the garage door opening. “He’s here now. I’ve got to go.” She didn’t wait for a response. She pressed the disconnect button and dropped the phone to the counter.
Handel pushed through the door with his suit coat draped over one arm and his briefcase in the other. He smiled cheerfully. “Hey, how’s it going? Is Davy in bed yet? I have some news I’d like to share with both of you.”
She shook her head. “He’ll be out in a minute.”
“Great.” Handel set down his things and opened the refrigerator door. “What’d you have for dinner? I’m starved.”
“There’s spaghetti in that blue plastic container.”
He pulled it out, popped the top off, and stuck it in the microwave to heat. “It’s been quite a day,” he said. With a silly grin plastered across his face, he leaned against the counter and faced her, his hands pushed in the front pockets of his slacks.
She heard the bathroom door bang open and a couple seconds later Davy charged into the kitchen, wet hair slickly combed over his forehead, his Spiderman pajamas clinging to his still damp body. “Uncle Handel! I got two goals today at practice!” he announced loud and proud.
Handel grinned, and high-fived his soggy nephew.
“Didn’t you even dry off before you put tho
se on?” she asked.
“I forgot to bring a towel in the bathroom, so I just rolled on the rug a little bit first. I’m pretty dry.”
Handel laughed. “Next time I forget my towel, I’m gonna try that.”
“Don’t you dare!” she said, trying to hide a grin. “You are such a bad example to my son.”
He shrugged. “Sorry. I do my best. I can’t help it if he turned out goofy. It’s probably from bouncing that ball off his head all the time.”
“No, it’s not!” Davy burst out. “My teacher said exercise is good.” He got in his announcement pose, hands on hips, chin lifted slightly for emphasis. “She said that kids need to exercise everyday and eat vegetables and fruits cause there’s aah…epi…demic of obisity in schools.”
Margaret raised her brows. “You mean, obesity?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Isn’t his teacher about two hundred fifty pounds? Maybe she should start playing soccer,” Handel whispered in Margaret’s ear before turning to take his food out of the microwave.
“Did you brush your teeth, Davy?” she asked, to divert the conversation and because he had been known to skip that little procedure if he could get away with it.
“Why do you always ask the same question every night?”
“Why are you answering a question with a question? Did you or didn’t you?”
He turned around and tromped back to the bathroom.
Handel chuckled as he sat at the table with his dinner. “He may turn out to be a great lawyer someday if we can break him of soccer before it knocks all the sense out of him.” He took a bite of spaghetti.
“Just because you didn’t play soccer in school doesn’t mean he shouldn’t. Everyone can’t be on the nerdy debate team.” She pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. He seemed so calm and collected, for a guy who had recently changed the course of his life by popping the question. Why hadn’t he told her he was going to do that today?
“Hey, I take offense at that. I may have been nerdy then, but look at me now.”
She shook her head. “Only in court do you reign supreme. Outside in the real world, you’re still the same older brother I remember with a bad haircut and pimples.”
Crushed (The Fredrickson Winery Novels Book 2) Page 5