All Night Long (27 page)

Irene choked on a bite of muffin that she had just slathered with butter. “A
what
?”

“An intervention,” Katy said hastily. “It’s a psychological technique that is used to confront a person who is exhibiting self-destructive behavior patterns. The idea is to force the individual to admit that he has problems and that he needs help.”

“I know what an intervention is.” Irene swallowed hastily and stared at Katy and Vicki, appalled. “But you don’t understand. Luke thinks he’s going to get breakfast and an offer of a job this morning.”

“Lot of good it would do to ask him to come back to the business,” Vicki said. “John tried that approach. It was a disaster.”

“Ambushing Luke with a shrink is probably not a real good idea,” Irene said uneasily.

Vicki frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. What’s taking place in that room isn’t an ambush. John and the others are trying to save Luke from himself. This is a last-ditch effort to make him confront his underlying issues.”

“We’ve tried everything else,” Katy added. “He refuses to talk about his problems. He won’t even admit that he has problems.”

“Dr. Van Dyke told John that an intervention was the only option left,” Vicki said.

Irene signaled to a hovering waiter. He hurried over.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’d like the spinach and feta cheese omelet to go. Would you please ask the cook to rush the order?”

“Of course.” He turned to Vicki and Katy. “Ladies? May I take your orders?”

Vicki was disconcerted. “Just coffee for now.”

“Same for me,” Katy said hurriedly.

“Thank you.” The waiter turned to Irene. “I’ll make certain that the kitchen receives your request to hurry up the order.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Vicki waited until the waiter had left and then glowered at Irene. “Why did you ask him to rush your omelet?”

“Because I have a feeling I’m not going to be here very long.” Irene stuffed the last bit of muffin into her mouth and smiled at Vicki. “Mind passing the bread basket again?”

L
uke, your family and friends arranged this meeting because they are deeply concerned about you,” Dr. Van Dyke said. “We all are.”

“Got a rule,” Luke said. “I never talk about my psychological problems before breakfast.” He opened the double doors of the private room.

Behind him, John slammed a fist down on the table. “Damnit, Luke, don’t you dare walk out of this room.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sir. Not just yet, at least. This is sort of amusing, in a weird kind of way.” Luke spotted a harried young man in a white coat in the hall. “Any chance you could find me some coffee and a cup, Bruce?”

“Sure, Mr. Danner. Be right back.”

“Thanks.”

Luke closed the doors again and turned to look at the others. “Now then, what did you say this ambush was called?”

Jason grimaced. “An intervention. And I would like to go on record as having told everyone present that it wouldn’t work.”

Hackett leaned back in his chair and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I said the same thing or words to that effect. I believe ‘really stupid idea’ was the exact phrase I used.”

Luke noticed that the Old Man, Gordon and the obviously
intrepid Dr. Van Dyke did not look happy with the direction of the conversation.

“We are all agreed that you need help, Luke,” Van Dyke reminded the group.

“She’s right,” Gordon said heavily. “Luke, you haven’t been yourself since you got out of the Marines. You know that.”

“You’re in a downward spiral, son,” John said gravely. “We’re trying to stop it before it goes too far. Dr. Van Dyke has a plan.”

“Plans are good,” Luke said. “I have a few of my own.”

A knock interrupted him. He turned back around and opened the doors. Bruce stood there with a tray.

“Coffee and a cup, sir.”

“Thanks.” Luke took the tray from him.

Bruce looked at the small crowd behind Luke. “Should I bring some more cups?”

“No,” Luke said, edging one door closed with the toe of his shoe. “I don’t think anyone else here is interested in coffee this morning. They’re too busy intervening.”

He nudged the other door shut and carried the pot and the cup to the table.

John’s face tightened angrily. “I’ve had enough. You’ve got problems. Admit it.”

Luke poured coffee into the cup. “Everyone has problems.”

“Not like yours,” Dr. Van Dyke said in a calm, authoritative manner. “Given your history, it is entirely possible that you are suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder with symptoms of anxiety, depression, erectile dysfunction and hypervigilance.”

Luke paused with the cup halfway to his mouth. “Hyper-vigilance?”

“That jumpy, easily startled feeling,” Van Dyke explained.

“Right.” He nodded. “I drink coffee for that.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jason exchange a look with Hackett, who shook his head in silent warning.
Gordon’s expression tightened. The Old Man seemed to slump a little in his chair.

The others were giving up already, Luke concluded. But Dr. Van Dyke was evidently made of sterner stuff. Oblivious to the changing mood in the room, she plowed onward.

“The best way to approach your issues in a constructive fashion is for you to start therapy immediately,” she declared. “Initially we will meet three times a week starting today. In addition, I will prescribe medications to ease your anxiety and depression. There are also meds for your erectile dysfunction problem.”

“Good to know.” Luke swallowed some coffee.

I
rene looked at Vicki. “Mrs. Danner, I understand that, as Luke’s mother, you’re naturally very worried about him.”

“I am not his mother.”

“Stepmother, I mean,” Irene said quickly.

Vicki’s elegantly manicured fingers tightened on the delicate handle of the coffee cup. “Let’s get something clear, Irene. I do not know what Luke has told you about our relationship, but I can assure you that he does not consider me to be his mother or stepmother. I am his father’s wife.”

“Well, yes, certainly, but—”

Vicki sighed. “From day one Luke made it plain that he did not need or want a mother. I will never forget my first impression of him when John introduced us. I swear, that boy was ten years old going on forty.”

Katy frowned a little. “Luke is very fond of you, Vicki; you know that.”

“He wasn’t at the beginning,” Vicki said grimly. “At first I made the mistake of trying to take the place of the mother he had lost. But by that point Luke and his father, together with Gordon, had been an all-male team for several years. Luke liked the situation just the way it was.” The cup trembled ever so slightly in her fingers. “I’ve often wondered if I’m the one who drove him out of the family.”

Irene took another muffin out of the basket. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps if I hadn’t come into his life, if I hadn’t taken so much of his father’s attention and then provided him with two younger half brothers, maybe Luke wouldn’t have felt compelled to go into academia and then into the Marines.” She paused. “And if he hadn’t done that, maybe he wouldn’t be in the situation he’s in today.”

“Whoa, wait, stop right there.” Irene waved her napkin wildly in front of Vicki’s distraught face. “Get a grip, lady. This is Luke we’re talking about. He marches to the beat of his own drummer. This is one man who for sure makes his own choices. You are not responsible for him joining the Marines or buying the lodge or anything else he chooses to do.”

“John is so very anxious about him,” Vicki whispered.

“Luke is okay,” Irene said.

Vicki looked at her, seeking reassurance. “Are you sure? Do you think he’ll come back to the business?”

Irene considered briefly. “If Elena Creek Vineyards was in serious trouble and if he thought he might be able to help save it, Luke would come back. He knows how much the business means to everyone in the family. Given his sense of loyalty and responsibility, it’s safe to say that he would make a rescue attempt if necessary. But otherwise, no. He has his own plans.”

“Operating the Sunrise on the Lake Lodge?” Vicki said. “That’s ridiculous. Luke is no innkeeper. He belongs at the winery.”

Katy looked thoughtful. “You know, Irene has a point. Six months ago, like everyone else, I was focused on trying to help Luke adjust to life here in Santa Elena because I knew that’s what Uncle John, Dad and you thought would be best for him. But when I think back, I can see that maybe we were wrong to try to push him into the business and into marriage. Maybe all we were really doing was applying more pressure at a point in his life when that was the last thing he needed.”

This time Irene flapped the napkin in Katy’s face, instead of Vicki’s. “Don’t go there, either. There’s no call to blame yourselves for urging Luke to join the business, get married and act normal. For a while, that was what he thought he wanted. Trust me, if Luke hadn’t been on board with the plan, it wouldn’t have gotten as far as it did. Or haven’t you noticed that he isn’t very easy to manipulate?”

Katy smiled wryly. “None of the males in this family are easily manipulated.”

Vicki made a face. “Stubborn and hardheaded, every last one of them.”

Irene put the napkin back in her lap. “Luke knows what he’s doing.” At that moment she caught sight of him making his way across the restaurant toward her. “Oops, gotta go. There’s my ride.”

“What?” Katy turned and saw Luke. “Uh-oh. I’ve got a feeling the intervention didn’t go well.”

Vicki watched Luke with an anxious expression. “Dr. Van Dyke told John that the intervention would last at least an hour and that she hoped to take Luke immediately into a private therapy session afterward.”

“Someone should have warned Dr. Van Dyke that Luke usually has his own agenda,” Irene said.

Luke reached the table and halted. “Morning, ladies. Nice day for an intervention, isn’t it?” He looked at Irene. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve had my fun. Time to leave.”

“I was pretty sure you were going to say that.” Irene jumped to her feet and seized a fresh napkin. “Hang on a sec.”

She spread the napkin on the table, picked up the bread basket and dumped the remaining muffins into the center of the linen square. Working quickly she folded the goodies into the napkin and knotted the ends.

The waiter appeared with a takeout container. “Your omelet, ma’am. There’s a plastic knife and fork and some napkins, too.”

“Right on time, thanks.” Irene took the container from him, grabbed her coat off the back of the chair, slipped the
strap of her purse over her shoulder and smiled at Luke. “I’m ready.”

“Let’s go,” he said.

Jason, Hackett, Gordon and John hurried across the restaurant. A woman wearing a tweed suit and shoes that had obviously been designed for comfort, not style, followed in their wake. Dr. Van Dyke, Irene thought.

“Luke, wait,” John ordered.

“Sorry, Dad.” Luke steered Irene toward the door. “We’ve got some things to do in the city.”

The woman in the tweed suit loomed directly in front of Irene, accusation radiating from her in waves.

“You are enabling his behavior,” the woman said quietly.

“Not exactly,” Irene said. “Luke pretty much does his own thing.”

“I know you want what is best for him. We all do. That’s why I’m here.”

Irene glanced quickly around at the circle of concerned faces, trying to think of something she could say that would reassure all these people who obviously cared so much about Luke. Inspiration struck.

“If it helps,” she said, “I can assure you that there’s no need to worry about Luke’s erectile dysfunction problems.”

“Irene,” Luke muttered, “If you don’t mind—”

“He’s definitely normal in that department,” Irene continued quickly, eager to make her point. “Actually, he’s a lot bigger than normal.”

A great hush had fallen across the entire restaurant. It dawned on her that everyone was staring at her as though mesmerized.

Jason grinned. “Boy, howdy.”

Bigger,
she thought, had been an unfortunate choice of words.

“I mean
better
than normal,” she said quickly.

She could tell immediately that the hasty rephrasing wasn’t quite right, either.

“I feel a little faint,” she said to Luke.

“That’s funny, I feel like I just fell into a pharmaceutical
commercial,” he said. “I believe this is one of those situations that call for a strategic retreat.”

“Yes, please.”

He hauled her forcefully toward the door, pausing long enough to collect the umbrella from a wide-eyed Brenda.

A few seconds later Irene found herself outside in the misty rain.

There was a short, freighted silence.

Irene cleared her throat. “I assume you didn’t get breakfast or a job offer.”

“No.”

“Bummer.”

“The way I look at it, this day has nowhere to go but up,” Luke said.

“Now there’s an optimistic, glass-half-full kind of statement.”

He ignored that. “What’s in the box?”

“Spinach and feta cheese omelet. When I heard about the intervention I had a feeling we might be leaving early. Don’t let the rain hit the muffins.”

Luke’s teeth flashed in a quick grin. “You know, I could have done without the public discussion of my erectile dysfunction issues, but I’ve got to admit that I do admire a woman who can manage to produce breakfast in a high-stress situation like that.”