“What happened to Mason?”
“He’d hit a deer. Speeding on Bull Run Mountain Road trying to get to the house. He practically totaled his car. Mom had no idea and he had no way of telling her.” She shrugged. “Makes you glad there’s cell phones now, hunh?”
“Yes. I suppose it does.”
I was still on the veranda when she came back, makeup reapplied, looking calmer and more collected. “Sara’s here. I’ve got to go.” She touched a finger lightly near her eye, but this time she didn’t wince. “Don’t say anything to anyone. Promise?”
“It’s pretty hard to miss.”
“I walked into a door. Clumsy me.”
“He shouldn’t get away with it.”
“Promise me, Lucie. I’m begging you. Please?”
I nodded, feeling sick.
She blew me a kiss. “I’ll call you from New York.”
The screen door slammed and a moment later I heard a car engine. Inside the house the phone rang. After a few rings the machine kicked in. With a small shock I heard Leland’s voice. We had never changed the recording.
“You’ve reached the Montgomerys. Leave a message.”
By the time I got inside the caller hung up. I hit the play button. A familiar Hispanic accent. “This is José at the Gas-o-Rama. We got your Volvo here and I need your approval and a credit card before I can fix your car. It’s gonna be ’bout six hundred fifty dollars. Please call me soon as you get this message.” He rattled off a number that I recognized as the one I’d called the other day.
The earlier messages from Kit and Hollis Maddox were still on the machine. I hit delete and dialed Kit’s number.
“You sound terrible,” she said. “Like you lost your last friend.”
“What’s wrong? Your message said it was urgent.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a long story.”
“Wanna tell me?”
“Not right now.”
“How about later? I need to talk to you, anyway. Meet me after I leave work, say eight-fifteen? The home helper can’t stay with my mom too late, so it’s got to be quick. I know you’ve got that jazz concert tonight, but maybe you could slope off for a half hour.”
“We could meet at the villa. Eight-fifteen’s fine.”
“See you.”
She hung up and I glanced at my watch. Six-thirty.
I got the keys to Hector’s truck and drove over to the winery. As I pulled into the parking lot, Mason Jones was climbing out of his silver Mercedes.
“Well, hey there, Lucie!” He came over and helped me climb down from the cab. “What’re you doing driving that thing? It doesn’t have any shocks left. I thought you were Hector, the way you tore in here. You’re lucky you still have the teeth in your head, rattling around like that.”
“Hector let me borrow his truck. The Volvo’s in the shop.”
“What’s wrong with the Volvo? Don’t tell me it finally gave up the ghost after all these years?” He sounded concerned.
“It’s still got a heartbeat. Though it’s going to cost me six hundred and fifty dollars to revive it.”
He reached inside the breast pocket of his white linen suit and pulled out two tickets to the jazz concert. “That must be why you’re looking so perturbed. You need a little help, sugar? I could give you a loan to tide you over.”
“I’ve got it covered. Thanks, anyway.”
He tucked my arm through one of his. “You going over to the concert? I’ll walk you there. I’m surprised there aren’t more folks showing up for this.” He waved his tickets. “Parking lot’s pretty empty.”
“That’s because the concert doesn’t start for another hour. You’re very early.”
“Lordy. Guess I should have looked at these, shouldn’t I? I must be getting old. I’d better call Linda and tell her she doesn’t need to rush.” He patted his breast pocket. “Left my mobile in my car, too. Old and forgetful. I’d better go get it.”
The sun, blisteringly pitiless earlier in the day, was setting in the west, coloring the horizon rim pale red. “Can I ask you something first?”
“Shoot.”
“Did you know that someone tried to buy the vineyard from Leland before he died?”
Mason tucked the tickets back in his jacket pocket and pressed his lips together, his expression slightly forbidding like I’d blundered into something the grown-ups were trying to keep hidden from the children. “I did. How’d you find out? We went to great lengths to keep that quiet.”
“Fitz told me. Who was it? I’d like to know.”
“Why, the consortium, of course.”
“The Blue Ridge Consortium?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a folded nail file. I watched him unfold it, then gently pick at an imaginary piece of dirt under an immaculately manicured fingernail. Over the years I’d seen him do that dozens of times. A lawyer’s delaying tactic. It gave him time to think.
“I’m going to tell you something.” He leaned closer so I smelled his cologne. For a man who could afford anything, he still wore the same inexpensive scent that he’d always worn. “I didn’t want you to know this, either. But, yes, we did offer to buy the place from Lee. Everyone figured out he was cash-strapped. Hell, you could have guessed even if he said nothing from the way he burned through money on those bogus investments of his. The consortium just wanted him to know his friends would help him out if he felt he needed to sell.”
“Was someone else trying to buy the vineyard?”
“Besides us?” He shrugged. “Not that I know of. Your daddy had his pride, Lucie. It was just a quiet little talk among friends.”
“Eli says we can’t afford to keep the place.”
“Well, can you?” he asked gently. When I didn’t answer right away he added, “Look, sugar, I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your daddy and your brother when he talked to me the other day. If you decide to sell, come to me. I’ll put together a deal so’s the house and the land won’t get split up. I’ll take care of you. You’ll get a fair price.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You better call Aunt Linda. I’ll meet you later at the concert.”
“I won’t be a minute. We can still walk over together.”
I did not want to see Greg right now, especially with Mason by my side. I would keep my promise to Mia—for the time being—but my fury at what he’d done to her would almost certainly bleed through anything I said and Mason would start probing. The next time I spoke to Greg I wanted to be alone.
“Actually, I’ve got some winery business to take care of.” I smiled. “You go ahead. I’ll be there soon.”
I waited until he left, then walked down to the barrel room. The shiny new heavy-duty lock was in the hasp.
I unlocked it, propping the door ajar with a brick. I hit the lights and held my breath. The grapevine thermometer now read sixty degrees. The carbon dioxide had built to toxic levels so I kept holding my breath as I swiftly crossed the room and flipped the switches on the fans. In another few minutes when the CO2 cleared out, I could close the door again.
We had no money and no resources. How much longer could I keep the vineyard going on fumes? Leland’s friends—out of pity—had tried to help him out, save him from further embarrassment and the crushing debt he’d left us.
I walked into Quinn’s lab and leaned against the counter staring through the glass window at the rows and rows of casks. My mother’s lifetime work. Something bulky dug into my hip. The reading glasses Sara Rust had given me were in the deep pocket of my skirt. I took them out and set them on the counter, just as the lights went out.
The light switch was next to the laboratory door. I groped until I found it, then flipped it on and off. Power failures were nothing new, the consequence of winter ice or summer thunderstorms, so we had a backup generator that would kick in momentarily.
I stood in the bleak silence of total darkness and waited for the small exploding sound of the generator, followed by the flash of lights, the whirring of fans, and the burbling sound of water moving through the space between the tank jackets as the refrigeration system kicked in again.