Love in the Vineyard (The Tavonesi Series Book 7)

by Pamela Aares

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think this is about pride? What pride could I have left? I’ve hit every bottom you can imagine.” She crossed her arms again, still clutching the tissue in her fist. “No, I’ve hit bottoms you can’t imagine, and that’s the problem. We come from different worlds, Adrian.”

  He rubbed at the muscle twitching in his jaw. She wasn’t making any sense. It was as though everything had jumbled in her mind—Eddie, Tyler, her past, him.

  “Natasha, I can help you. I can—”

  “Look, thank you for your offer. And thank you for”—she pointed a finger to where he’d left the will on the kitchen counter—“for that.”

  She lifted her head and the piercing look in her eyes nailed him.

  “Thank you for everything, but you have to go. I need some space. I need to think. And if I’ve learned anything in the past few months, it’s that I can’t think straight when you’re around.”

  She pointed to the door.

  “Please go.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Please, Adrian. And I hope you’ll understand that I won’t be coming in to work today. Tammy can help with any emergencies. Or Enrique.” Her eyes widened. “What’s going to happen to Enrique?”

  “Nothing for right now.”

  “I want to know.”

  “We can talk about him tomorrow. You have enough on your plate.”

  Walking out the door was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. But she’d asked for space. And she’d been clear that she didn’t want his help.

  The hardest thought to let in was that maybe Eddie really did want to be a father to Tyler. Maybe the guy had changed. Maybe she wanted Eddie to step into that role. Maybe it was best for her and Tyler to have a new start with Eddie—for Tyler to have a shot at life with his real father?

  Hell, just because he wanted Natasha with every bit of his being didn’t make him a better candidate than Eddie.

  But as he drove to the vineyard, her words rang in his mind. What had she meant when she’d said she couldn’t think when he was around?

  The door slammed behind Adrian. Natasha resisted the urge to watch him drive away.

  He’d do the same for any employee, he’d said. Well, he’d sure cleared up any romantic notions she’d been foolishly holding on to. She wasn’t going to be one of his precious projects. If he wanted salvation, he’d have to find another needy soul to help.

  But as her anger dissolved, the real bugger of a thought moved in—how could she have been so wrong about his feelings for her?

  She’d fooled herself, the one thing she’d sworn never to do again.

  Drawing in a few deep, calming breaths, she leafed through the will. She didn’t need to read the words to know that no matter what Eddie’s motivations were, she was going to fight to keep Tyler safe from harm.

  Maybe Eddie really wanted a relationship with Tyler. But maybe he only wanted the money. Still, maybe he wanted both.

  Adrian was right about one thing—she needed to get counsel, to make sure that whatever contact Eddie had with Tyler would be supervised. For a moment she even considered that if she married Eddie she’d be there to protect Tyler, to oversee any and all interactions. But even before the thought finished forming, she knew such a rash tactic was absurd. With Adrian she’d discovered what it felt like to love. She couldn’t exist in a sham marriage, not even for Tyler’s sake.

  Her thoughts banged around in her head more than the pots and pans she arranged and then rearranged in her kitchen. She scoured the counter. Cleaned the sink. After about twenty minutes, she threw the dish towel across the room.

  She needed her work. Wanted to get her hands into soil. When she was working with her plants, her mind calmed and she could think.

  And she had to speak to Enrique. But she had no idea if he was still in the country. He would run, she was sure of it. She had five hundred dollars saved up and she wanted to get it to him. And she’d make a strong plea to Adrian on Enrique’s behalf. She should’ve done it while Adrian was standing in her kitchen, but her heart had jumbled her mind so that she couldn’t think.

  She grabbed her keys, double-locked the apartment and headed to work.

  Casa del Sole buzzed with activity. For the past two weeks the number of people requesting tours and classes had doubled. Adrian’s dream was becoming a reality. Well, good for him.

  She stormed up the path to the greenhouse. Tammy was watering a tray of young salvia starts.

  “Natasha. I was told you were taking a sick day.” She took a long look at Natasha. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “C’mon, do I look stupid? I like to think I don’t look stupid. What’s eating you?”

  “I had an early meeting.”

  She wasn’t in any mood to discuss Eddie, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to make a total fool of herself and spill her guts about her heartbreak over Adrian. But she did need information. Natasha schooled her features and tried for a tactful smile. “Do you know where Enrique is?”

  “He hasn’t been down here yet today.” Tammy turned off the hose. “Why?”

  “I need to talk to him. I need to—”

  Enrique walked in smiling.

  “My heroine,” Enrique said as he hurried over and gave Natasha a friendly hug.

  Embarrassed by the surprising show of affection, Natasha wriggled out of his arms. “I need to talk to you.”

  “And I should get back to the kitchen,” Tammy said, eyeing Enrique. “The two of you probably have a lot to discuss.”

  “I’ll be up after I finish my work down here,” he said, turning and catching Tammy’s hand.

  “You do that. I’ll save you a scone. Blueberry today.”

  His life was on the line and he was arranging to have a blueberry scone? Natasha held her words until Tammy was out of earshot.

  “What did she mean about us having a lot to discuss?”

  “Adrian came to my place. Met my grandmother. He’s going to let me pay back the money over time. And he’s giving me a raise. I’ll be doing the accounts for you. And the orders.”

  She stood stunned.

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “He’s been busy.” Why hadn’t he told her?

  “The best part is he’s going to put my grandmother on the gift shop staff and on the Casa health policy. And he’s going to cover the costs of her treatments—anything the plan won’t cover.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to make good on this, Natasha. I’m going to be the best employee he’s ever had. The best you’ve ever had. This business of yours is going to rock.”

  “It’s not my business,” she said. She was still sorting through reasons why Adrian hadn’t told her.

  “You want an engraved plaque or something?” Enrique beamed a broad smile. “Four newspaper articles isn’t enough? Of course it’s yours. I mean you’re the boss and all. And you’re the best.” He glanced at his watch. “We gotta get going. The tour group’s all set.”

  “Tour group?”

  “The master gardeners’ tour. You’re leading it. They’re waiting up in the west vineyard.” He drew his brows together. “You okay?”

  “I forgot about the tour. Could you show them around?”

  “They want you, Natasha, so I’m glad you came in. I would’ve been worse than second best. You’ve become a celebrity among the bee-friendly crowd in Sonoma. I’ll walk you over.” He crooked his arm and smiled. “We don’t want to keep master gardeners waiting. And Tammy will roast us in oil if they’re late for the lunch she’s set up for them. She’s making lavender soufflés for dessert.”

  Blueberry scones and lavender soufflés. She’d fallen into never-never land and was surrounded by munchkins or fairies or whatever creatures lived in the regions of the absurd.

  She pasted on a smile and let Enrique lead her out of the greenhouse. His happiness and Adrian’s generosity should’ve lifted her, but they only made her feel more depressed. Why ha
dn’t he told her about helping Enrique?

  How she’d be cheery and informative leading a tour for the next hour and a half, she had no idea.

  They climbed the knoll overlooking the closest vineyards and the barn and paddock.

  Enrique squeezed her hand against his arm. “I want to thank you for what you did, going to bat for me.”

  “I didn’t go to bat for you, Enrique. I would have, but Mr. Tavonesi did what he did on his own.”

  “He’s a good man. He might be taken advantage of because he sees only the good, but I’ll have his back. He saved two lives. My grandmother’s knitting him a scarf. I hope he likes orange with green stripes.”

  She couldn’t help but smile at the image of Adrian in a hand-knit scarf. It would clash with everything he owned. And Adrian might’ve saved two lives, but he’d sliced a dagger under her ribs, right up against her heart. He’d do the same for any employee, he’d said. Evidently that much was true. Hard not to love a guy like that. And that was her problem.

  “He’s riding the match today.” Enrique pointed down to the stables. “It’s a mixed match, women and men. Zoe and a couple of other women are playing on his team this time.”

  Natasha swept her gaze to the barn.

  Adrian and a tall blond beauty were leading horses toward the practice ring. They were laughing. At least the woman was. Adrian had his head turned, so she couldn’t see his face. He helped the woman mount, and the princess on the pony threw her head back and laughed again. Perfect timing. Did Natasha need any other sign from the heavens to tell her it was over between her and Adrian? The only thing that would’ve made it clearer would be if the woman had the number seventeen tattooed across her butt.

  Natasha slipped into the gathered group of visiting gardeners before Adrian could catch sight of her.

  Enrique was right—Adrian was a good man. He didn’t need her troubles piled on top of the responsibilities he already had. He worked hard and deserved an uncomplicated love life, not a woman who came with a child, the child’s father, a history that wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, and a love that was not only deep but everlasting. He was no doubt used to loving and then parting with his lovers as friends. She didn’t want to part at all.

  Her unrelenting yearning for him made it hard to keep her thoughts straight. But one thing she knew for sure—she wasn’t going to be a pity project.

  Appreciate the time they’d had, that was what she should do. Appreciate what he’d done for her and for the people of the Casa.

  Right. And ice skaters would be sipping cocoa in hell.

  She wanted all of him. And she couldn’t have him.

  The worst of it was, she’d known that from the start, had fooled herself long enough to have a good time for a while. Long enough to know what it felt like to really love a man. Long enough to have her doors blown off by passion and her heart captured by Adrian Tavonesi.

  One thing she knew for sure—once she had enough money saved up, she’d have to look for a new job. Tammy would give her a good reference. There was no way she could see him every day and watch other women come and go in his life. It would break her.

  Kismet. Maybe such a force did exist in the universe.

  One of the master gardeners on the tour of the Casa’s vineyards and native garden facilities worked at a successful local commercial plant nursery that sold cut flowers to the San Francisco flower market. The woman had mentioned that Bright Day Flowers was looking for help. Natasha had taken the woman’s card and said she’d keep her feelers out for a candidate.

  On the drive home, Natasha practiced her pitch for winning the job. She had the skills and she loved flowers. But no amount of practice could hide the fact that she loved the native garden project more. At Casa del Sole she was part of a community making a difference, solving a problem, contributing to gardens that created thriving habitats. She could stay at the Casa and do the work she loved.

  And have her heart break a little more every day.

  When Natasha arrived home, a black sedan was parked in front of her apartment. She wouldn’t put it past Eddie to sic a private investigator on her. But he didn’t have to, not according to the will. All he needed was a simple DNA test—a test the court had already ordered. The attorney that Enrique had recommended had told her she had no choice but to take Tyler in for the court-mandated cheek swab. So who’d he sent now? Maybe he was going to try to prove she was unfit to parent Tyler. The thought shocked into her. She needed a better attorney and she needed one fast.

  She eyed the car. A uniformed driver sat in the front of the limo.

  Private investigators didn’t ride around in limos.

  The rear windows were tinted, and she couldn’t see in. She gave a quick prayer of thanks that Tyler had gone to a movie with Brandon. Monica would drop him off after dinner. If Eddie was waiting in the limo, if he had ignored her plea for more time, maybe he’d tire of waiting and leave.

  Her hands shook as she tried to unlock her door, and she dropped her keys into the pot of hydrangeas she’d bought to spruce up the drab porch. She bent down to retrieve them.

  “Miss Raley?”

  Natasha turned to see an elderly woman making her way up the walk. She had a spry step, but she had to be nearing eighty, maybe older. Elderly ladies weren’t PIs. Although if they were, they’d fool just about everyone. Maybe she was a friend of Mary’s.

  “Hello,” Natasha said.

  “Are you Natasha Raley?”

  The woman’s serious tone and hyperfocused gaze set Natasha’s nerves on edge.

  “Yes. And you are…?”

  “Forgive me. I’ve been in the car too long. Sitting always muddles my brain. I’m Delia Marbury.”

  Natasha glanced at the tiny gloved hand Delia held out. Definitely a friend of Mary’s. Probably an Inspire donor. Certainly not the threat her quivering stomach wanted her to believe.

  Delia shook Natasha’s fingers gently. Then she tilted her head toward the door. “May I come in? I’m not accustomed to discussing business on the sidewalk.”

  Natasha doubted that one cell of the older woman’s brain had ever been muddled. She looked all business, and something in her manner made Natasha feel like apologizing—a sure sign of trouble ahead. Maybe her body was smarter than her mind, although lately both had been off-base.

  Natasha offered Delia the one good chair in the small living space. Delia removed her gloves and tucked them into her quilted designer bag and then smoothed her matching designer skirt. Chanel. Natasha recognized the brand from leafing through magazines that well-meaning donors had dropped off at Inspire. She resisted picking up the afghan that had fallen to the floor and instead sat in the folding chair facing Delia.

  Delia glanced around the apartment. “This is a very homey place you have here.”

  The word homey coming from an upper-crust doyenne usually meant shabby. But Delia seemed sincere.

  “I like it,” Natasha said, trying to be as noncommittal as possible.

  “I’m not one to mince words, so you’ll have to forgive me. But I have news for you. News that might startle you. I know it did me.”

  Natasha wanted to scream. She’d had enough startling news in the past month for a lifetime. “I think you’ll find it hard to startle me, Mrs. Marbury.”

  “Just Delia, please. May I call you Natasha?”

  Natasha nodded. The woman had a flair for the dramatic. Either that or the news she had was truly horrible and she was trying to put Natasha at ease.

  “Mrs. Marbury—Delia—could you just tell me what it is you want from me? I’ve had a very tough couple of weeks.”

  Why she was admitting such personal news to a perfect stranger, now that was startling. Maybe she was losing it.

  “I’m sorry for barging in on you like this and adding to your stress. But I was afraid you’d run like your mother did. You see, dear, I am your son’s great-grandmother.”

  Her words had barely registered before Natasha’s mind kick
ed in to high-end fight mode.

  “Eddie said all his relatives were dead.”

  Delia squinted at Natasha. “Who is Eddie?”

  “You’re not related to Eddie?”

  “Who’s Eddie?” Delia repeated.

  “Tyler’s father.”

  “Oh, I see. I am a Marbury, dear. I’m your father’s mother.” Delia smiled. “Tyler. I like that name. Very well chosen.”

  All sorts of scenarios rolled through Natasha’s mind in a flash. Maybe the woman was an investigator. But if the courts had sent her, why would she tell such an absurd lie?

  “I don’t believe anyone knows who my father is,” Natasha said.

  “He was my son.” Her gaze softened. “I know this is a lot to take in so suddenly.”

  “Your son.” Natasha parroted the words and the connection fired. “You’re my grandmother?”

  “If you’ll have me. You and your boy—Tyler—are the only family I have left. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But I am sorry if I’ve caused you a shock.”

  Tyler had a great-grandmother. She had a grandmother.

  Delia gestured a bejeweled hand toward the kitchen. “Do you think we could have a cup of tea, dear? I flew in from Boston just this afternoon, and I could use a cup of tea.”

  “Tea. Yes, of course.” Natasha leaped up and started for the kitchen. And then turned back to Delia.

  “Maybe you could start at the beginning, Delia.”

  “Oh, I don’t know the beginning, dear. All I can tell you is that while going through some things of my son’s…” Tears began to swim in her eyes. “I’m sorry. You don’t need my tears, I’m sure.” She wiped an escaping tear from her cheek. “There’s much to tell. Tea will help. It always does.”

  Natasha concentrated hard as she ran water into the kettle and turned on the burner. She kept an eye on Delia while she measured tea leaves into the chipped teapot. Any moment the woman might disappear in a burst of dust.

  Delia rose stiffly from the chair and joined her, sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter.

  “I was clearing out boxes in my house, boxes that had belonged to my William. Old ladies have a tendency to do such things, you know. He died in a race. A crash. They couldn’t get him out. He was a dear boy, but always reckless. Too reckless.”