The Vineyard (26 page)

“No?” That had certainly been part of the image. Natalie hadn't discussed the war yet, but Olivia had seen pictures of Alexander in uniform. Yes, he looked proud—dashing and proud.

“He was in intelligence,” Jill said, then went in a different direction. “He liked the grand gesture. If it'd been up to him, he'd have built a castle, rather than a mill, for the winery.”

“Who decided on the mill?”

Jill turned her head on the headrest and looked at Olivia. “Natalie. She's the driving force behind the whole operation.”

“Greg said it was Carl.”

“Greg would,” Jill muttered, facing forward again.

They had touched on a sensitive point. Olivia was dying to ask what had gone wrong with the marriage, but it wasn't her place. She didn't know Jill, so she said, “Natalie's seventy-six. What'll happen when she starts to slow down?”

Jill chuckled. “I'm not sure she ever will. The vineyard is her life. But if you're wondering whether Greg will do it, he says not.”

“He's called several times,” Olivia ventured. “He's upset that she's marrying Carl.”

“That's because he has no control over the situation. It stymies him when people go off and do their own thing with no regard for his wishes.”

Another sensitive area. Again, Olivia steered away. “Maybe Susanne will take over the vineyard. What's she like?”

Jill smiled at that. “I like Susanne. Greg sees the difference in their ages and imagines a great distance because of it, but she's always been nice to me. She made me feel welcome, like she was really glad to have me in the family.”

“Maybe she wants
you
to take over the vineyard.”

“I doubt it.” Jill looked at Olivia. The smile was gone now. “You seem concerned about who's taking over. Is Natalie all right?”

“Oh, yes, as far as I know. She has incredible energy. Incredible
strength
. It's just that I think of her as being middle-aged, then she starts talking about the thirties and I realize she's more than that.”

“Greg is convinced that she isn't
of sound mind
. What do you think? Is she all there?”

“Totally.
Totally.”
So why did Olivia worry about her health? Because Natalie
wasn't
middle-aged, and because when it came to
family, she was surprisingly alone. She had drawn Olivia in, made her a part of everything, like she was starved for companionship, and Olivia loved it. But Natalie had the potential of Susanne and Mark, Greg and Jill, and two grandchildren. “I saw her there at the yacht club with her friends and their families, and it's like for Natalie, without any family, there's a generation missing.”

“Could be because Simon wasn't there,” Jill said. “You've met Simon, haven't you?”

Olivia turned up the vineyard drive. “I have.”

“Do you think he has designs on Asquonset?”

“No.” She would put money on it. “I think he loves it here. He'd probably be happy to spend the rest of his life here. Does he want to own it?” She shook her head. “He wants to grow grapes. That's it.”

N
ATURALLY, BECAUSE HE WAS
the last thing she and Jill discussed before parting in the Great House foyer, Olivia had Simon on the brain. She kept picturing him alone in his house with everyone else celebrating the Fourth at the club. She kept thinking that no one should be so alone.

Changing into a singlet and shorts, she tied the laces of her running shoes and did stretches out by the car. Then she set off down the driveway, running into a setting sun. At the main road, she turned left and ran at a comfortable pace. A breeze came in off the ocean, cooling her skin when it started to heat, but the exertion felt good.

She had run this route before. She had made the entire circle around Asquonset, but she hadn't seen any reflector on a tree that was supposed to mark the way to Simon's house. She must not have been looking closely enough.

This time, she kept a sharp eye out, slowing at every possible spot where a road might be. She even turned in at one that proved to be only a parking spot for the house across the road.

Then a spark caught her eye. It was a last ray of sun glinting off a reflector on a tree at the start of what looked like a tractor path—two dirt ruts separated by grass. As camouflage went, it worked. There was a paved section thirty feet in, but it was barely visible under a forest of trees. This was definitely the road of a man who didn't want to be bothered.

Heart pounding, Olivia turned in. She ran to the start of the
pavement, thought about the man who didn't want to be bothered, turned around, and ran back to the main road. But then she thought of the man who was totally alone. Jogging in place for a minute, she pictured him. Turning around again, she started up the path.

It was uphill most of the way, not the easiest run for a woman who dedicated her life to finding level ground. Breathing hard, Olivia actually stopped at one point, bent at the waist with her hands on her knees, and wondered if she was having a heart attack.

More like a panic attack, she decided. Simon was an imposing man.

But she wanted to see where he lived. And since it was getting dark, chances were he wouldn't even know she was there. And if he did see her, well, that was all right, too. She could handle it. Hadn't she handled him when it came to Tess? Hadn't she handled Tess when it came to Seth? She could handle people. She was tough.

She straightened and pushed on until the road abruptly ended. Sure enough, there was Simon's mud-spattered silver pickup. A small house stood nearby.

House? Cabin was more like it. It was gray-shingled, with windows suggesting no more than three or four rooms, and it was placed on the land in a way that came close to showing its backside to anyone who dared intrude. That was Simon's house, all right.

Her step slowed. She came to a halt.

Not that she'd have done differently if she'd been building this house, she decided with a ragged breath when she looked out past the edge of a front porch and saw the view. She hadn't realized she had climbed so high. From here, the ocean was distinct. Beneath a dusky sky, it was deep gray broken by patches of violet under clouds of similar hue.

Hands on her hips, breathing a little more evenly now, she wondered what she should do. There were no lights on in the house. Other than the rhythmic chirp of a cricket, there was no sound. Had it not been for the pickup, she would have thought Simon was away.

Something furry bumped her leg. With a frightened cry and visions of a weasel, a ferret, even a
bear
cub, she skipped back, but it was only Buck.

Hunkering down, she scratched the cat's head. Just because Buck was here didn't mean Simon was. He might have been picked up by a friend. He might have been picked up by a
woman
. Yeah,
yeah, yeah, he had sworn off relationships—but men didn't necessarily consider sex a relationship. For all Olivia knew—for all
anyone
knew—he and some woman were going at it hot and heavy in a pretty little house near the center of town.

There was another scenario, of course. This one had Simon picking up his little sweetie and going at it hot and heavy right here. That would explain the presence of his truck, even the darkened house, with the poor cat exiled into the night.

And Olivia had been feeling
sorry
for the man?

She was nursing a potent sense of indignation when she heard noise from the porch that stopped her cold. The creak of a chair was followed by the unmistakable sound of bare feet on wood. She rose and held her breath.

“Are you looking for me?” Simon asked from under the shadowed overhang at the edge of the porch.

Everything was difficult to make out, what with the trees blocking out the last rays of the setting sun. Simon's world was purple and deepening to black by the minute. Olivia, on the other hand, felt positively neon. She might as well have been spotlit. Denying her presence seemed pointless.

“I was,” she said, “but I think I've come at a bad time. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye.” She turned to go.

“Why aren't you at the club?” he asked.

She thought about that and turned around. If his talking to her was a diversion—if there was indeed a woman in the shadows pulling on clothes—it was too late to run. She had to look at the humor in the situation.

“That was supposed to be my line,” she said. “I was there. Dinner was great. We missed you.”

He snickered. “Not likely. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly the life of the party.”

“Actually, I hadn't noticed. The only time I've seen you with other people was with Natalie that first day.”

“And with Tess.”

Unless she was mistaken, he was inviting comment on that. With a lover listening? Hard to believe.

“You did okay there,” she said.

“She's forgiven me?”

“Well, I don't know if I'd go
that
far. The apology helped. She doesn't seem any worse for wear.”

Olivia jumped again, this time at the sound of a boom. She looked toward the ocean in time to see a brilliant pink flower open and spread in the sky. She caught her breath as smaller yellow ones came to life around it.

“I had no idea she had a learning problem,” Simon said when the color faded and fell.

“There's no reason you would have known,” Olivia replied, but her eye was on the harbor. A second boom was followed by a third and a fourth. The sky was alternately lit with red-white-and-blue, then green, then yellow and pink.

“How serious is it?” he asked, seeming unmoved by the display of fireworks.

“Serious enough to be hurting her socially. Social things are important for a child her age. She's having a hard time.”

“Getting along with kids.”

“Oh yeah.”

Another boom sounded. This time the fireworks were multicolored and squiggly, an army of little sperm swimming through a darkening sky.

Tess was under that sky, watching from the deck of a boat. Olivia wondered if she had done the right thing letting her stay. She would never forgive herself if Tess was rude to Seth. It struck her that maybe she should be near a phone, just in case.

She was thinking of leaving when a vivid cornucopia of patriotic colors exploded over the harbor. She whispered an involuntary “Ooooo.”

Simon asked, “When did you learn she had the problem?”

The cornucopia broke up. Reasoning that staying another minute or two wouldn't hurt, and that he was the one encouraging conversation, Olivia looked at the porch. She saw the outline of a raised arm, a hand braced on the overhead beam, a lean body outlined in blue, thanks to the next display of the pyrotechnics.

When had Olivia learned that Tess was dyslexic? She remembered every detail of the nightmare. “When she got into school and couldn't do the work. There were stomachaches, and tears, and teacher conferences. I should have seen it sooner. If I had, they could have given her help right from the start. But it isn't easy spotting things like that. I knew she wasn't good with certain toys, but I didn't love puzzles either. So we played with the things she
was
good at.”

“Did you read to her when she was little?”

Another boom came, but Olivia didn't look at the sky. Something in Simon's voice sparked a picture of him reading to his daughter, Liana. She opened her mouth to ask about it, then shut it abruptly, thinking,
Painful terrain—do not go there, Olivia Jones
.

Instead, she took his question at face value. “All the time. I still do. When she was little, I read her all the stories I'd missed myself. I hated reading when I was a child. Just couldn't do it. By the time I could, I was too old to read fairy tales, so I experienced them with Tess, and it was such fun—not to mention that it was a validation for me that I could do it.” It still was. “I probably got more out of it than Tess. I should have been teaching her letters and words. If I'd done that, I might have realized she had a problem. But I wasn't about to teach her how to read. I was afraid I'd do it all wrong. And then I kept thinking she was learning it all on her own. We'd be reading one book or another, and she'd start doing a page herself. So we'd take turns. I'd read one page, she'd read the next. I thought she was brilliant. I mean, I still do. She is brilliant. But I thought she was just so far ahead of her age group. I mean, what parent doesn't want to think that? Then we were reading one night and I accidentally turned two pages at once, and Tess started reciting lines from the page I had skipped, and I realized she wasn't reading at all. She had the whole book memorized. Even then, I thought she was just so smart. I didn't grasp the implications.”

Olivia scrubbed at the short strands of her hair, embarrassed even now to have been so obtuse then. She smiled. “Got more than you bargained for with that answer, huh?” Another boom came from the harbor, but there was no sound behind Simon. Apparently, there was no guest. She felt obtuse about that, too.

“I asked,” he said.

Buck meowed. She made out his large, dark shape midway between Simon and her. Night was falling fast, the purple on Simon's hill deepening. Olivia knew that she was going to have to run down the road in the dark, and figured she ought to get started while there was even the last little bit of light. But she stood her ground and glanced at the cabin.

“So, this is your place?” she asked. She wondered what the inside was like.

“It isn't the one I lived in with my wife and daughter. I burned that one after they died.”

“Burned it? Why did you do that?”

“I built it for them. They were gone.”

“You
burned
it?”

“To the ground.”

“And the forest didn't go with it?” The place was positively
surrounded
by trees.