You're Not Safe (Texas Rangers) (12 page)

She walked up to the driver, smiling. Reggie was a stocky man with short dark hair shaded by a UT ball cap. They’d never worked together before but he’d come highly recommended by her neighbor, Philip Louis.

She held out her hand. “Reggie. Right on time.”

“I hear you’re hosting a party.” His handshake was strong.

She cupped her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the bright sun. Another man climbed out of the front of the cab. He was younger, Hispanic and short. Like Reggie he wore the
REGGIE’S CATERING
shirt and khakis though his tennis shoes looked far more careworn. “We are. We’re hosting a fund-raiser for the Crisis Center.”

Reggie glanced around the building, his gaze appreciative. “I heard you were building out here.”

“You heard?”

“From your neighbor, Mr. Louis.” He jabbed his thumb up toward the house on the hill. “He keeps a close eye on all the changes at Bonneville.”

Louis had been an attorney by trade but ten years ago had entered the world of winemaking. He owned a large winery in Fredericksburg and bought most of her grapes at harvest time. He’d purchased the adjacent land hoping to grow grapes as succulent and sweet as Bonneville’s. “When he has a band playing at one of his parties, the music drifts my way.”

“The man knows how to throw a party and thinks he can grow grapes like you.”

She smiled. “The more, the merrier.”

He laughed. “So what have you built here?”

She explained about the tasting room and the winery she planned to build.

“Well, that’s just great. Be sure to keep ol’ Reggie in mind when you host that grand opening party.”

“I will.”

“According to my order you’re hosting one hundred people.”

“That’s right.”

“Will be good publicity for the vineyard.” He handed her a clipboard with an inventory. “If it’s those fancy folks from Austin, then this will be a good event for you. I hear they’re a wine-drinking bunch.”

She signed her signature on the bottom of the form, refusing to feel nervous about facing folks connected to her past. “Let’s hope.”

“So where do you want the food tables and chairs set up?”

“In the main tasting room. I’ve installed the wine shelves but not furnished it yet so you have a blank canvas.” Greer had worried her wine racks would be empty but finally had to let the worry go. Next year she’d have wine and for now settled with small battery-operated votive candles in the bottle spaces, which created a glittering effect.

“Great. Shouldn’t take Manny and me long. The food truck is about an hour behind us.”

“In this heat you’re right not to bring it all at the same time.”

“One big melted mess.”

She spent the next half hour helping the two unload and setting up the tables in the tasting room. She covered each table with linens and in lieu of flowers decorated each table with a cluster of wine bottles and candles. As promised the food truck arrived right as they were putting the final details on the food table.

Reggie unloaded the food, which meant Greer had about a half hour to shower and dress for the event. As she headed out of the tasting room, she spotted Reggie and his assistant unloading a dove ice sculpture. She’d not seen an ice sculpture since the night of Jeff’s party—the night he died.

Despite the afternoon heat a chill ran down her spine as she watched the men wrestle the sculpture onto a pushcart. Years ago, her mother had insisted on the sculpture for her brother’s birthday party. “A touch of class,” her mother had said. Jeff hadn’t cared less about the fancy detail but Greer remembered being jealous of her brother and the dazzling party her mother had created to celebrate his birthday.

Greer cleared her throat. “Reggie, I don’t remember ordering an ice sculpture.”

He settled the sculpture on the cart. “One of the folks at the center ordered and paid for it. Thought it would be a nice touch for the event.”

He pushed the cart toward the air-conditioned room knowing no block of ice would last long in the heat. “Do you know who?”

The cart’s wheels rolled heavily in the graveled driveway. “Not off the top of my head, but I can check when I get back to the office. I made it myself this morning. Is there a problem?”

“No. It’s beautiful. I was just curious.” She summoned a smile. “I need to change. I’ll be back in a half hour.”

“Will do. We should just about be set up by then.”

“Great.”

She sprinted to her house, pushing through the main door. The main room had the same polished wood floor her aunt had laid with her own hands and a large wool Indian rug warming it. A leather couch, two chairs, and an ottoman circled a large, round coffee table made of an old wagon wheel now set under glass. There was a fireplace used often on chilly winter nights and paintings of the Texas sunset. Her aunt never would say who had painted the pictures but she’d cherished the pieces.

She ducked into her room furnished with a simple double bed, a quilt comforter, and a chair by the window for reading. Stripping as she moved, she made her way to the bathroom off her bedroom and turned on the showerhead in the single stall. Soon hot water steamed, and she climbed in under the spray.

The water splashed against her skin, washing away the dirt and the grime from the day’s work. She closed her eyes, savoring this last quiet moment before the people from town arrived.

She understood that many coming didn’t support the Crisis Center but wanted to see her. Many wanted to know what had happened to her after she’d deliberately dropped off the radar a dozen years ago. She’d barely moved fifty miles from her home, but she’d effectively dropped out of sight.

And now she was about to step back into it. She was about to show Austin that she was alive and well and ready to face the past and all its ugliness.

She shut off the hot tap, toweled quickly, and hurried into her room. When she’d been in town days ago, she’d ducked into a dress shop to find a dress for the evening. There’d been a time when shopping had been her mission in life and her day centered on all the right stores and the best designers. But in Zoe’s dress shop she might as well have landed on an alien planet. She’d lost her knack and had wandered through the racks simply lost. Thankfully, the owner had taken pity and chosen a simple blue sheath dress that skimmed her body to her knees, gold sandals, and gold hoop earrings to match. She’d been grateful and not noticed all the items had been on sale until later.

She quickly dried her hair and applied what little make-up she owned: mascara, blush, and lip gloss. Slipping on her sandals she hurried back toward the tasting room so she could do one final inspection and be ready to meet her guests.

Today, full of chaotic activity, had given her barely any time to think or worry about much. She had hustled from one crisis to the next as she did most days at the vineyard.

The room sported three long tables, filled with food supplied by Reggie. In the center of the food stood the dove ice sculpture. Flowing cold lines added elegance to the table but its grace didn’t calm her unease.

The reds were open and breathing and the whites chilling at the tasting bar. José’s work, no doubt. She’d chosen six wines for tonight. Two whites, a blush, two reds, and an ice wine for interest. None was an adventurous wine but they rested easy on the palate and would be a crowd-pleaser. Other than the facility her donation tonight had been the wines. She could scarcely afford it but pride had had her offering the best. She’d not go stumbling back into her old life dragging bad wine with her.

As she stood alone in the tasting room, the beats of silence greeting her provided enough space for apprehension to flower. This was her first party since the accident. The first time since she’d seen anyone from her old life. They were bound to judge. To scrutinize. That’s what they did. And no doubt she’d be found wanting.

She conjured the image of her aunt standing beside her.
“Do you really give a crap what they have to say, Greer? Really?”

A smile played at the edges of her lips. “No, I don’t. I don’t.”

Greer was smiling when the door to the tasting room opened, and she turned to find Dr. Stewart in the doorway. He wore a simple white shirt accentuating sandy hair, tanned skin, khakis, and leather loafers. He possessed a casual relaxed air that drew people.

“I expected to find you rattled with nerves, not smiling.”

“Don’t let the grin fool you,” Greer said. “I’m a nervous wreck. In fact, I might scramble behind the bar right now and hide if you say
boo.
”

Dr. Stewart laughed. “Humor is a good sign. I think you are going to do fine.”

“Keep saying that. Please. I need to hear it.”

“Has Dr. Granger arrived?”

“Not yet. She said she might be a bit late.” She’d also met Dr. Granger on the board. The tall redhead was a psychologist and if Greer remembered correctly was married to a Ranger. A Ranger. Great. One in her life was enough.

Dr. Stewart surveyed the room, and his face glowed with appreciation. “This looks wonderful, Greer.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t filter out the pride from her tone.

“You’ve come a long way since that day we met in the hospital chapel.”

They’d met minutes after her aunt had died. She’d been sitting alone in the chapel wondering what she’d do next.

“I’m proud of you.” His gaze softened. “Remember when I first suggested the idea of a fund-raiser?”

It had been on the heels of her aunt’s funeral when he’d brought up the idea of a signature fund-raiser. She’d summoned her courage and suggested a wine tasting.

“I feel as if you’ve pushed me into the deep end of the pool.”

Dr. Stewart smiled. “And you are swimming just fine. Give it a little more time, and it will even feel comfortable.”

“I don’t know. I think I’m taking on water now.” She moved toward the bar and slid behind it. “Have a drink with me?”

Wrinkles creased the edges of warm eyes. “I’d love one. Long day.”

“You look as if you are dressed for court.” She set two sparkling wineglasses on the bar and filled both knowing she’d barely drink from her own. She’d face her demons tonight sober as a judge.

Dr. Stewart sipped his glass. “Lovely. I was in court today. Testifying on behalf of a mother trying to win custody of her son from an abusive father. He’s got money. She doesn’t. Messy.”

“I bet you won them over.”

“I think, hope, I did.” He sipped the wine. “Really, outstanding wine, Greer.”

“Thank you. That was made by a Texas winemaker who uses Bonneville grapes.”

“And next year you will be making the wine.”

Greer crossed her fingers. “I can’t wait.”

“With you at the helm, this place will really take a leap forward.”

“My aunt had visions of turning the winery into a showplace.”

“And now you will realize her dream. I’m proud of you, Greer.”

She swirled her glass, inhaled the bouquet, and then sipped. “How about I get through the evening first. It could get ugly fast.”

“You will be fine.”

Greer shook her head. “Have you heard about the body the cops found on the edge of my property?”

He nodded. “A few details, not much.”

She swirled her wine and watched as it coated and then dripped down the inside of her glass. Winemakers called these drops tears, which was so appropriate now. “I knew him. From a long time ago.”

Surprise flashed in his gaze. “Before the accident?”

“Just after.” She studied the empty room soon to be full of guests. “I don’t think most people know the dead man and I were friends.”

“But his death, nonetheless, will cause more gossip.”

She sipped her wine and let it coat her mouth. “Gossip is what’s pulling people here tonight. I suppose the more the better.”

“I promise these people don’t have horns or third eyes. They put their pants on exactly like you.”

A small smile. “You might be right about the pants, but I’m not so sure about the horns. This is a tough crowd.”

“And you will woo them and make lots of money for the Crisis Center.”

“What can I say, I’m a multitasker.” Greer glanced beyond Dr. Stewart. “Is your wife coming tonight?”

“She’s promised to be here but she said she’ll be coming straight from work and may be late. Never know what last-minute problems come up in a pediatric practice.”

Dr. Stewart spoke often of his wife, clearly taking great pride in her work. More cars arrived and she spotted Dr. Granger getting out of a BMW.

Dr. Stewart smiled as he watched Dr. Granger get out of her car.

Jo had rotated off the board as Dr. Stewart was joining. Though Greer didn’t know the psychologist well, she liked her.

Jo’s auburn hair, pinned back with a dark clip, accentuated her pale skin and high cheekbones. Jo would never be described as stunning, but she possessed a quality that made her lovely and unforgettable. She wore a dark suit, white blouse, and sensible high heels suggesting she’d come straight from her office.

As the two women chatted, Dr. Stewart got Jo a glass of wine and then excused himself to meet more arrivals.

Jo smiled, not raising her glass to her lips until he’d ventured outside to meet an older woman dressed in blue silk. “Mrs. Vander Hal loves Dr. Stewart. He has a way of sweet-talking her. And from what I hear he’s charmed more than one or two donations out of the good citizens of Austin.”

Greer watched the old woman’s face light up as Dr. Stewart kissed her on the cheek. “Is your husband coming?”

“Yes.”

“He’s a Texas Ranger.”

“That he is.”

“I met a Texas Ranger the other day.”

“Did you?”