Something in the Wine (8 page)

“What are you bringing to the wine tasting?” her mother asked while she opened the tube and squeezed paint onto her palette.

“Bringing?” Annie furrowed her brow. Drew had told her not to bring anything, so she had given it no further thought. But maybe her mother was right. Bringing a hostess gift was the polite thing to do. The question was just: what could she bring Drew? A bottle of wine, her usual gift, was out of the question since Drew owned a winery. “I have no idea.”

“You can’t show up empty-handed. Does your new friend like art?”

Annie mentally rolled her eyes. Her mother always thought everyone was—or at least should be—interested in art. In Drew’s case, though, she was right. “I think so. Drew’s even a fan of yours.”

Her mother laid down her brush. Now that they were talking about art, her attention was fully focused on the conversation. “Then why don’t you take one of my prints as a gift? I have one that fits perfectly for a wine tasting.” She went to the little storage room next to her studio and rummaged around for a moment before she reappeared with a framed print.

It was one of her mother’s landscape paintings. Slivers of ice glinted on vines her mother had captured on canvas.

“Isn’t it a little over the top for a hostess gift?” Annie asked. After all, Drew was just a new acquaintance, an ally in her plan to take revenge on Jake, not a friend.

“Nonsense,” her mother said. “If Drew is a fan, go ahead and take the print. Just make sure you wrap it safely and be careful with it.”

“Of course.” She wasn’t that much of a klutz, was she? “Thanks, Mom. I will.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “If you’re done with the sky, we really should get started on the attic.”

Her mother picked up her brush. “Give me five more minutes. Ten max.”

Oh, yeah, sure.
Annie couldn’t even count anymore how often she had heard that sentence in her life. She sighed. “I’ll go and get started on the attic. Just come up whenever you’re done.”

Without looking away from her easel, her mother nodded.

When Annie—sweating and dusty—climbed down from the now clean attic four hours later, her mother was still painting.

* * *

“In three hundred feet, turn right on Taylor Road,” the female voice of Annie’s navigation system said.

Annie passed a golf course, turned right as instructed, and continued on an empty two-lane road. Vines grew to either side of her, long rows stretching into the horizon, and she wondered whether any of them belonged to Drew. She slowed down to enjoy the beauty of the area for a while longer.

A large sign announced “Corbin Vineyards and Winery,” and the navigation system led her onto a gravel road that was getting narrower as it climbed up the hills. She steered the car around a bend.

To her left, the afternoon sun reflected off a small lake. An artificial waterfall pattered down on lotus and water lilies. At the edge of the lake, a large farm-style house lay surrounded by vineyards.

Oh, how beautiful.
Annie stopped the car and stared for a few moments. Part of her wanted to stay and watch the waterfall create little rainbows where the spray hit the lake, but then she gave herself a mental shove and drove up to the house.

She pulled into a small parking area in front of the house, parked beneath a large oak, and lifted the framed print out of the trunk.

The doors of a glass-enclosed patio were open, but no one was in sight.

Hesitantly, she walked up the three steps. She lingered in the doorway that separated the veranda from the inside of the house. “Hello? Drew?”

“Come on in,” Drew called from a room to the right. “I’m running a bit late.”

As soon as Annie stepped inside, a large dog raced up to her, wagging its tail.

Annie froze.
Oh my God! Is this a dog or a pony?

The dog circled her and sniffed every inch of her slacks, taking special interest in her calves, where Amadeus had left a bit of hair. She held the print in front of herself like a shield. “Um, Drew?”

Drew stuck her head around the doorjamb. “Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot I left the door open. He’s supposed to guard the barrel room.” With a dish towel across her shoulder, she strode toward Annie and the dog. “Cab, sit! Now say a proper hello.”

Without hesitation, the dog dropped to his haunches and offered Annie his paw.

“Aw. Hello there.” Annie set down the print and carefully gripped the dog’s paw, then let go and stroked the large head. “What kind of dog is he?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. His mother was a black Labrador. His father might have been an Irish wolfhound, but we’re not sure.”

“And his name is Cab?”

Drew gave a rueful smile. “Short for Cabernet, my father’s favorite wine.”

“You won’t get any teasing comments from me. I named my cat Amadeus, after my father’s favorite composer.” Annie petted the dog one last time, then straightened and handed Drew the framed print.

“A gift? For me?”

“Well,” Annie shrugged, “I couldn’t bring a bottle of wine, so I brought this.”

A cold nose nudged Annie’s hand, and she caressed Cab’s floppy ears while she watched Drew unwrap the gift.

The paper fell away, revealing the print.

Drew stared at the image of frost-hung vines. “Wow. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a print of one of my mother’s paintings. When she heard that you’re a fan, she thought you might like it.”

“I love it.” Drew cradled the print between both hands. “Thank you. And please tell your mother thanks from me too.” She carried the print into the living room.

The dog trotted after her.

“Come on in,” Drew called over her shoulder, still looking at the print.

Annie followed her and took in the living room.

Oak furniture and a large worn leather couch clashed with a bright red armchair. Dozens of DVDs stood next to leather-bound books, and a large flat-screen TV towered over an old record player. Gold-lettered certificates and black-and-white photos hung side by side with modern art. Above the fireplace, a painting portrayed a sunrise over an old farmhouse.

Annie wasn’t an expert on art by any means—though God knew her mother had tried—but something about the brushwork seemed familiar. When she looked at the initials in one corner of the painting, she realized it was one of her mother’s. It seemed Drew really was a fan and hadn’t just said so to get into Annie’s good graces.

She took another step into the living room and let herself be surrounded by its subtle smells. They, too, were an interesting combination: wood, leather, freshly baked bread, and Drew’s perfume. The living room was a curious mix of masculine and feminine, old and new, traditional and modern.

It made Annie wonder whether Drew shared the large house with her parents.

What will her parents think if they come in and find me here? Will they think I’m her lover?

“Make yourself at home.” Drew gestured to the couch. “I’ll go put the cheese back in the fridge, then I’ll take you on a tour.”

On the way to the couch, Annie let her gaze trail over the black-and-white photos. In the pictures, people were pressing grapes by stomping on them. It seemed the vineyard had been owned by Drew’s family for decades already.

When Drew walked away, Annie sat on the couch.

Cab jumped up after her and laid his head on her thigh.

Annie flinched. His head was big—and so were his teeth. “Are you allowed on the couch?”

But when he looked at her with his brown eyes while his tail thumped against the couch, she couldn’t resist petting him.

Drew returned. She shook her head at the dog. “Cab, off. Don’t bother our guest.”

Cab looked at Annie with mournful eyes and then jumped down from the couch.

“He’s not bothering me,” Annie said.

“I thought you were a cat person?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t like dogs. I don’t know much about them, but I like them.”

Drew looked at Cab. “Lucky you.”

“He’s very friendly for a guard dog,” Annie said.

“He’s an attention whore.” Drew patted the dog with one hand. “Let’s start the tour while the sun is still up.”

Cab bounded after them as they left the house and strolled up a hill. To their left and right, neat rows of vines trailed up the rolling land. Most of the vines were empty, but a few bunches of purple grapes hid behind the autumn foliage. Leaves crunched under their feet. The setting sun warmed Annie through the cotton of her blouse, and they climbed higher while the sun crept toward the horizon.

Drew touched a golden leaf here and picked a forgotten grape there. Annie watched her connect with the vines in silence. Even though this place was so different from Annie’s world, she didn’t feel out of place wandering the vineyards with Drew. Maybe it was because Drew was in her element here and radiated contentment. Drew’s relaxed mood was contagious.

At the top of the hill, Drew paused.

Annie stopped next to her and peered at the sea of golden vines below. Symmetric rows of vines stretched over rolling hills, reaching to the horizon, only interrupted by groups of scrub oaks. “I’ve lived in the area for six years now, but I never really paid attention to how beautiful it is,” Annie murmured and only then became aware that she had spoken aloud.

Drew looked around like a proud parent. Her gaze caressed the surrounding hills and vines. “You grew up in Fresno, right?”

Annie nodded.

“How did both you and Jake end up living in Paso Robles?”

“My parents own a house on Lake Nacimiento. As kids, we spent every summer at the lake. Jake became obsessed with water skiing and wake boarding, so he moved here after college.”

“Then why did he end up opening a rock-climbing gym instead of renting out water skis to tourists?” Drew asked.

“You know Jake. He’s got a new brilliant business idea, a new passion, and a new girlfriend every month.” Sometimes, Annie couldn’t believe that he was related to her.

“Oh, yeah, I know. So what drew you to the area?” Drew grinned. “It wasn’t the water skiing, was it?”

Annie shook her head. She wasn’t into sports. “One of Jake’s ex-girlfriends worked for Cargill & Jones. When she told me they had a job opening for an accountant, I jumped at the chance.”

“But wouldn’t working for a bigger firm in Fresno offer more career opportunities?” Drew asked.

Annie hesitated. Drew didn’t seem to think anything of asking such personal questions so soon after meeting, but to her, it felt like revealing too much of herself. But Drew was right, of course. If they wanted to convince Jake they were in love with each other, they needed to become more familiar with each other’s lives. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m not in it for the big bucks or to make partner.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Just to do a good job and earn enough money to lead a comfortable life. A small firm appealed more to me than a larger company in a big city.”

“I can understand that,” Drew said. “I focus on quality too instead of trying to make more money by producing larger quantities of wine.” She picked a few grapes. “But if you’re not in it to earn a lot of money or make a career for yourself, why do you work so much?”

Lately, Annie had asked herself the same thing. She ran a hand through her wind-blown hair. “My colleague Sarah thinks it’s because I have a problem saying no.” She surprised herself by answering honestly. “If a client needs an urgent appointment or my boss has some extra work he needs done, I have a hard time turning them away.”

Drew nodded slowly. “When I took over the vineyard, I struggled with the same problem.”

“Really?” Annie raised both brows. As relaxed as Drew always seemed, Annie had assumed that she balanced her work and private life effortlessly, but maybe they had more in common than she had thought.

“I was working almost twenty-four/seven,” Drew said. “A customer wanted to bring twenty more guests to a wine tasting and a neighbor asked for help with the harvest, and I kept saying yes because I wanted to prove myself as helpful and dependable. But I learned very quickly that if I don’t take care of myself and my needs, no one else will.”

“Hmm.” Annie tugged on her earlobe. She knew Drew was right, but being the reliable one had always been her role in life.

“Here.” Drew handed her one of the grapes she had picked. “This is one of our Zins.”

Cab leaned against Annie’s side and nudged with his nose to get at the treat in her hand, nearly making her stumble down the hill. She grabbed for Drew’s arm to keep her balance.

“Cab!” Drew steadied Annie, then withdrew her hands and glared at the dog. “Stop it.” She turned to Annie. “Don’t give him any grapes, no matter how he looks at you with those soulful brown eyes of his. Grapes are poisonous to dogs.”

Wide-eyed, Annie nodded and wiped the bluish grape on her pants before she put it into her mouth. The sweet taste of the ripe fruit exploded on her tongue. She moaned. “This is good.” She lifted her hand to lick a drop of grape juice off her finger. When she looked up, she found Drew’s gaze on her.