3 Savor (8 page)

“Hey!” Margaret said, “That’s my
man you’re talking about. Don’t get any ideas.”

“That’s my brother you’re both
drooling over and it’s making me a little nauseous,” Billie said, but she
couldn’t hide how proud she was. Too bad Sabrina couldn’t have been here to see
him perform. She would have loved it.

“I better get in there and make
sure the boys are keeping up with the customers,” Sally said. “This is a great
crowd for a Saturday.”

Billie waited until she was gone
before confronting Margaret with her suspicions. “So which one of you canceled
Jimmy’s Jazz Crew? You, Adam, or Sally? And how did you manage to get all these
people here,” she asked, waving a hand to encompass the grounds.

Margaret pulled out her cell phone.
“Adam and I sent out an invitation. He’s been amassing a lot of local followers
on his Facebook and Twitter pages,” she said, and laughed. “I can’t believe it
worked! Look at all these people!” She grabbed Billie’s arms and pulled her
into a hug.

“Thank you,” Billie said in her
ear. “I owe you both.”

Margaret pulled back with a smile.
“You don’t owe us anything, Billie. That’s the beauty of family.”

Adam finally managed to break away
from his fans and join them. He threw his arms around them both and squeezed.
“Group hug!”

“Hey lady!”

Billie turned around at the loud
voice behind them. A young Hispanic man stood a few yards away, arms crossed,
regarding them coolly from behind red shades. His sleeveless shirt revealed
arms heavy in ink and muscle.

“Are you talking to me?” she asked,
raising her brows.

“You the wine chick?”

Adam stepped forward. “Can we help
you?” he asked, protectively putting his six-foot-two frame between her and the
stranger.

The man smirked and shook his head.
“Naw. I don’t need no help. I come to give help. Maybe you need a strong
Mexican worker to replant those smashed flowerbeds for you,” he offered. His
grin revealed a diamond inset in his front tooth. It caught the light and
sparkled in odd contrast to the skull and crossbones tattoo on his neck.

Adam glanced back at Billie.
“Something going on here I should know about?”

“We had vandals last night,” she
said, moving around Adam and confronting the young man face to face, despite
the creeping fear that inched up her spine. “What do you know about that?” she
asked him.

He gave a slight shrug and pushed
his shades up on the top of his head. His dark gaze swept boldly over her body
before finally meeting her eyes. “Somebody must not like you very much, chica.
Why else would they run over your pretty flowers?”

“I’d like to know the answer to
that myself,” she said. “Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

He laughed. “No. I don’t know
nothin’.” He turned as if to leave and then looked back. “But if I were you, I
would stay indoors where it’s safe. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“Hey!” Adam called after him. “Was
that a threat?” He started to follow, but Billie grasped his arm and stopped
him.

“Let him go,” she said.

They watched the man move through
the parked cars until he opened the door of a black SUV and climbed in on the
passenger side. The truck backed out and drove away, tinted windows reflecting
the winery back at them.

“What kind of truck is that?” she
asked, squinting.

“I think it’s a Lexus. Why?”

“Because someone in a black SUV
drove in here Monday night, tore up my flowerbeds and shot at me through our
front window.”

“What?” Adam grabbed her by the
shoulders. “Why am I just hearing about this now?” he asked, practically
shaking her.

She pulled away. “We called the
police. What exactly do you think you could have done that they didn’t?”

“They shot at you?” he said again,
unable to fathom the idea. “Why would anyone…? Do you even know that dude?”

Billie shook her head. “It’s a
mystery to me.” She smiled reassuringly and changed the subject. “Thanks for
doing all this, guys,” she said, waving a hand toward the crowd and the stage.
“I really appreciate it. But I need to talk to Handel.”

She started walking toward the
house taking slow, easy strides in spite of her inner desire to run. She dared
a glance back and saw her brother making his way up to the stage again with
Margaret following close behind. With no one watching, she broke into a jog.
This whole thing scared her a lot more than she wanted to admit. Why would a
stranger threaten her? What did they have to gain? Was it really a result of
Handel’s case or someone with a vendetta against her? It didn’t make any sense.

Margaret curled against Adam’s
chest where they sat on the couch, pretending to be interested in the movie
he’d chosen for the evening. It was definitely a guy movie, with explosions,
gunfire, and short, terse dialogue that peppered the action without actually
having a storyline or character development. Davy sat at their feet on the
floor, completely entranced. He hadn’t even asked for popcorn or a snack.

She wanted to ask Adam what he
thought about Billie’s latest troubles but it would have to wait until Davy was
tucked in bed for the night. She didn’t want to frighten him after what he’d
gone through a year ago. Sometimes he still had nightmares and woke up crying
out. Hearing that his aunt might have a killer gunning for her would not be a
good bedtime conversation.

Rambo, the tomcat Davy had adopted
from the local shelter after begging for a pet for months on end, came padding
in from the kitchen where he had been eating his dinner. He licked his whiskers
and leaped up to the back of the couch with hardly any effort. After walking
along the entire length and back, he settled down on the far end, curled into a
rumbling black and white ball of fur and closed his eyes.

Margaret reached up and rubbed her
palm along Adam’s whiskered cheek and pulled his face down for a kiss. His lips
pooched out as though to kiss her but his eyes remained glued on the television
screen. She sighed and extricated herself from his arm.

“I can’t compete with a superhero,”
she grumbled. “I’m going down to the cellar to work.”

When she was halfway to the
kitchen, they both exploded in laughter and she turned around. Davy had climbed
up on the couch beside Adam and they were grinning at the screen like twin
zombies. Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

Her cell rang and she picked it up
where she’d left it on the kitchen table. “Hello.”

“Margaret Parker?”

The voice sent shivers down her
spine. She pulled the phone away and glanced at caller I.D. but it said
Unknown. He was dead. There was no way he could be calling.

“Hello?” the voice asked again, the
Italian accent so familiar and yet… a slight deepening, as if more years had
been added. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said, barely able to
breathe. “Who is this?”

“
Scusami
. I didn’t mean to upset you. I have been told that my son
and I sound much alike. Did sound much alike,” he corrected, and cleared his
throat. “I am Edoardo Salvatore. Your son’s grandfather.”

He couldn’t have said anything more
terrifying.

Margaret glanced back into the den
and saw Adam watching her. He always seemed to be attuned to her mood swings.
Apparently, he wasn’t as oblivious as she’d assumed. He stood up and crossed
the room toward her.

“Is everything all right?” he asked
softly, eyes narrowed with interest.

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

“What can I do for you?” she asked
the stranger on the line, the man whom she’d once blamed for Agosto’s
desertion, and the man Agosto said he hated, but respected more than any other.
The only grandparent her son had left.

“I was hoping to meet my grandson,”
he said. When there was no immediate response from her, he continued. “Perhaps
we should meet first. Alone. Discuss boundaries and expectations?” He put it as
a question, but she knew that just as Agosto was unable to take no for an
answer, his father would be unaccustomed to the process as well. It would be
better to meet with him one on one and get it over with.

“Are you coming to the states
soon?” she asked, wondering how much time she had to prepare herself. She moved
to the sliding door and flipped the outside patio light on. A small rodent went
scurrying off into the bushes.

“As a matter of fact, I flew into
San Francisco this morning. My day is wide open tomorrow,” he said, leaving the
ball in her court.

“I see.” She turned around to find Adam
still watching. His concern was sweet, but distracting. “Can you meet me in
Yountville at Antonio’s? Say, two o’clock?” She was delivering Carl’s monthly
order of wine anyway and she would feel more comfortable knowing her brother’s
friend was within calling distance.

“Perfect. I was planning to make a
trip out to see my nephew sometime while I was here. Now I can kill two birds
with one stone.”

The old idiom was not comforting.
In fact, it was rather insulting. She swallowed down the harsh retort that came
to mind. “Fine. I look forward to meeting you,” she lied, and ended the call.

Adam leaned on one hip, eating a
leftover slice of pizza from the box on the table. “You don’t sound very
excited about the date you just made,” he said, curious but not wanting to
probe.

Sometimes she wondered how men
survived, unable to ask direct questions. They’d wander aimlessly for days
instead of asking directions and Adam would apparently chew off his own right
arm before asking her who she was meeting.

She glanced into the den. Davy now
lay stretched out on the couch with Rambo curled next to him, watching the end
of the movie. There was plenty of movie noise to block their conversation, but
her son was a curious sort himself and he might just be listening without appearing
to do so. She lowered her voice. “I’m not. Agosto’s father is in town,” she
said, her voice tense with worry.

Adam swallowed the last bite of
pizza and licked his lips. “Is this the first time he’s contacted you since…”

“Yes.” She shook her head slowly,
trying to understand a father who would have strangers ship his son’s body home
to Italy and never inquire as to the circumstances of his death. Or maybe he
did and he just couldn’t handle seeing her or Davy at that point, knowing they
were the reason his son came to America in the first place.

“What did he say?”

Margaret stepped into Adam’s
embrace and slowly released the breath she was holding, allowing her fears to
dissipate into the comfort of her kitchen in the arms of the man she loved.
After soaking in the realization that she’d just admitted to herself something
she’d refused to acknowledge up till now, she leaned her head back and smiled.
She wasn’t sure about being the one to say the words first, but she was
positive the feeling wasn’t going away. “You know,” she said matter-of-factly,
basking in the warmth of his brown eyes, “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

She couldn’t have surprised him
more if she’d announced her engagement to Sammie. His mouth dropped open and
she felt his arms go slack for a moment before he pulled her close and planted
a kiss on the top of her head. “I can’t believe you’re finally telling me this
now – with your son watching from the next room,” he muttered softly.

She giggled and tried to peer over
his shoulder to see if Davy was actually paying any attention to them, but Adam
caught her face between his palms and kissed her until she was breathless.
Rambo suddenly appeared below them, rubbing against her leg and purring his
contentment at the situation.

“You guys missed the best part of
the movie,” Davy said from across the room. Taking a quick run, he slid across
the kitchen tile in his socks, bumping into them and sending them tottering.
“Whoa! Did you see how far I slid? That was awesome!”

“Sorry bud, I was a little busy,”
Adam admitted, slowly releasing Margaret back to reality. “Your mom and I were
discussing dessert.”

Margaret pulled away and started
straightening up the kitchen, throwing away the pizza scraps and napkins and
putting their glasses in the sink. She hummed as she worked and didn’t realize
until she saw Adam’s grin stretch wide, that she was humming the song he’d
written and sung for her at Handel and Billie’s engagement party.

“Dessert?” Davy made a funny face.
“I thought we only get dessert on Sundays.”

“Sometimes we need to make
exceptions to the rules,” she said, wondering if she’d always been so rigid or
if she’d gotten worse after Davy’s kidnapping. Seeing his face light up at the
simple suggestion to have dessert on a different night, she decided it was time
to loosen up. She didn’t want her son to grow up thinking life was only about
following rules and being safe. Sometimes you had to take chances, to choose
extraordinary rather than ordinary. “Who wants ice cream?” she asked, holding
up the metal scoop like a sword.

“I do,” they both said
simultaneously and Davy yelled, “Jinx!”

It was an hour past his usual
bedtime, following bowls of chocolate ice cream all around and lots of
laughter, that Davy finally trudged off to bed. He was so tired that when
Margaret went up to check on him, he was already fast asleep with the light
left on in his room.

She turned off the lamp and shut
his door on her way out. The clock at the end of the hall chimed the half hour
as she slowly descended the stairs. Adam was stretched out on the couch in the
den, his hands clasped behind his head. A sappy grin turned up the corners of
his mouth, his gaze following her crossing the room.

“I see you’ve made yourself
comfortable,” she said, shutting off the television. “It is getting pretty
late. I mean, if you’re too tired to go home, I guess you can crash here on the
couch.” He’d taken an apartment in town to be closer to the clubs where he
played at night and to give Billie and Handel the privacy they deserved as
newlyweds. He told her that living in his sister’s extra room was awkward
enough before the wedding.

“I’m not tired,” he said, reaching
for her as she laid the controller down on the coffee table. He grasped her
wrist and gently tugged her toward him. “In fact, I’m rather wide awake.” He
pulled her down until she was leaning over him, her hands braced on the cushion
seat on either side of his lean, hard body. He reached up to release her hair
from the clip that held it off the back of her neck. Long blonde strands fell
between them, brushing his chest. “You are so beautiful, Meg. I’ll never be
able to get enough of you.”

His words could have been the words
of any number of young men hot for some girl, and in the past she would have
brushed them off as nothing more than sexual desire talking. But tonight her
heart heard what he was trying to say rather than what he was saying. She
smiled and lowered her head to kiss him.

“Wait,” he said, covering her lips
with two fingers. “I need to say this. I’ve wanted to say this for a long time,
but you weren’t ready to hear it.”

She sighed, eased back to sit on
the coffee table facing him and waited.

He scrambled up to a sitting
position and pushed his hands through his hair as though to tame the mess, but
it had grown out a bit too long and unruly for that. If he had on a kilt he
would’ve looked like a wild highlander from the hills of Scotland. She gave him
an encouraging smile.

He hesitated as though searching
for the right words before taking her hands in his. His dark eyes glistened in
the lamplight. “I never thought I’d find a woman like you, Meg. You’ve
encouraged me to be the best I can be, to take chances and follow my heart. You
have an inner strength that I admire tremendously; an ability to survive
whatever is thrown your way, and yet even with all you’ve been through, you
still possess a gentle, loving heart that makes you even more amazing.”

Feeling a bit embarrassed by his
glowing praise, she opened her mouth to say something.

He shook his head. “It’s my turn.
You already sent my world spinning off its axis tonight. Let me finish.” He
lifted a hand and gently brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I’ve never
fallen for a girl so quickly, so thoroughly, and so finally. I love you,
Margaret Parker.”

“Are you done?” she whispered,
tentatively leaning in toward him.

His lips covered hers and she
moaned as his kisses deepened into desire. It had been so long since she’d felt
this way about any man. She ran her fingers through his hair and drew him
closer still, craving his touch like a sandy beach craves the incoming tide.
Logically she knew this feeling wasn’t sustainable. Love had different moods,
different seasons, just like wine grapes. The passion of first love was all
consuming but didn’t have to be the beginning and the end. Time would tell
whether their lives would merge into a deeper blend of love that could be
savored, but right now she wanted more than a sip. She wanted…

He suddenly pulled back and looked
down into her face. A slow grin turned up his lips and then he was laughing.

Margaret looked at him in
bewilderment, her brain still spinning, emotions spiraling into annoyance.
“What?”

“You were doing it, weren’t you?”
he said, still amused at something beyond her comprehension. “You were thinking
about wine and how it relates to our relationship. I could actually hear the
wheels spinning in that crazy winemaking head of yours.”

She felt a blush rise up her
cheeks, giving her away. There was no use trying to deny it. Adam had heard her
hypothesizing more than once about the similarities between love and wine.
“What if I was? Wine is romantic after all. More than I can say for you.
Laughing at me while we’re…we’re…” she sputtered to an end, jumped up, and
stalked off to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Adam called, laughter
still edging his voice. He followed her and tried to put his arms around her
again, but she shrugged him off.

“I’m tired,” she said, which was
true now that her hormones had lost that loving feeling. “I think we should
just call it a night.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your
feelings, babe. I actually think it’s pretty cool how the craft of winemaking
is so much a part of you that you even process situations accordingly. That’s
how I am about my music. ” He regarded her crossed arms pose with a crooked
smile. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I was singing
Jungle Love
in my head while I was
kissing you?”