Fielder's Choice (28 page)

“I did.”

Alana shook her head. The little muscles around the top of her throat tightened, and she willed herself not to give in, not to break down and bawl. She understood about her and Matt being an impossible fit; she’d have to live with the truth of that. But the truth didn’t keep her from wishing that maybe things could work out with Matt, that maybe he could love someone who made mistakes, someone who knew absolutely nothing about being a mother. A wish that, try as she might, wouldn’t stay shoved into the sturdy confines she’d tried to erect around it.

“Well, then,” Zav said. “At least you have the ranch. That’ll keep you busy until the fates take another turn at the wheel.” He tapped on the windmill drawings. “We can postpone the meeting for another few days and bring in my attorney from the city. One of his clients is an environmental big shot; he’ll have all the lingo down for any questions about that part. In the meantime, I’ll talk to the neighbors.”

“I’m going to France at the end of next week. It’s the gala for the renovation of Versailles.”

Zav laughed. “Well, isn’t that a pickle.”

Alana could tell from his tone that he didn’t think that a gala for Versailles ranked anywhere near the importance of the permit meeting for the windmill. And she sure wasn’t going to tell him that if she didn’t escape from a world where every single moment something reminded her of Matt, she might lose her mind. He wouldn’t understand.

“Then we’ll keep it as it is. It’ll be tight, though.” He eyed her over the chart and lowered his glasses. “Tavonesi Ranch needs a leader, someone who cares about it, someone who’s
there
. There’s a team in position, but they need someone to lead the team, someone who loves the entirety, the whole of it, and not just one division. It’s the nature of the place.”

“I’m not much of a leader.”

“Don’t try my patience, young lady. You just study these notes I’ve made for you and show up at the permit meeting. Anything you don’t understand you can look up online or call me about. I’ll see you next Monday.”

He picked up his pruning saw and headed toward his orchard.

“And don’t go doing anything to mess up that boy’s game,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve got money on the Giants winning the World Series.”

Chapter 23

Alana had stayed up half the night preparing her presentation for the permit meeting. Zav had warned her that it would feel like a ritual more than a meeting, but the team from the ranch still had to have all the facts on hand and present them clearly.

She’d studied every argument made by the planning commission from previous meetings when the permit had been turned down. A county so focused on developing sources of alternative energy raising such a fuss over a windmill didn’t add up from the facts laid out in front of Alana, but Nana shouldn’t have erected the windmill without having the permit in hand. That had just pissed everybody off.

Some people wanted their rules followed even if they shut down progress and possibilities. And didn’t Alana know about
that
.

Alana threw open her armoire to choose her “duds,” as Zav had called them. In the end she chose a simple dress and sweater, low heels, nothing flashy. She wanted to look like she fit in and was competent.

Jed Thomasson, the engineer for the ranch, reviewed her presentation over breakfast and made a few changes. He loaded her key points into a PowerPoint slide show and told her he’d run it while she and the others spoke from the podium. He seemed impressed by the presentation she’d put together. She wasn’t sure whether to feel complimented or annoyed. Maybe they all thought she didn’t have a brain.

She was nervous as she walked up to the podium in the county supervisor’s hearing room to present the case for the ranch. It helped that a team was there to add to what she presented and to answer questions. And it also helped that Zav had talked most of their neighbors into coming out to speak on behalf of the project. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he’d promised in return. The two neighbors he hadn’t managed to convince hadn’t come to the meeting. That was probably a bit of Zav’s diplomatic work as well. He’d have scones for life if the permit was approved.

She laid her notecards in front of her and kept herself from fidgeting with her sweater while Jed set up the PowerPoint. But she did slip her hand into the pocket of her cardigan to finger the charmstone. It was her talisman. She knew it would see her through.

As Jed clicked through the slides, she reminded the supervisors that the windmill—in actuality a highly sophisticated turbine—was, even at one hundred and forty-eight feet, now thirty percent lower than the one originally proposed before its rejection by the planning commission two years before.

“We’ve also reduced the power it produces from six hundred and fifty to three hundred kilowatts,” Alana reported. “Even so, the downsized windmill will meet the existing electricity demand of the ranch, including powering the mill.”

Zav gave an eloquent speech about her grandmother’s pioneering efforts in both organic farming practices and sustainable energy, practices designed to help Sonoma County’s agriculture industry. He then called up his attorney to read quotes from an analysis of the wind project by county staff that had found that no significant environmental impacts would result from the windmill’s operation. The attorney also cited a study by a local bird observatory that concluded negative impacts to raptor populations would be unlikely since the large blades of the turbine would spin slowly and the birds would have time to see them. A representative from the Green Sonoma Alliance spoke on the ranch’s behalf and argued that the windmill was a positive model for using green energy to power agriculture.

A small group of citizens from the North Coast expressed concern that the Tavonesi wind project could set a precedent. Windmills would be sprouting up all over the county, they argued. They were rather shocked when the chairman of the committee said that he wished Sonoma could harvest more wind power and put up more wind turbines but that given the current political climate, such a practice would be highly unlikely.

In closing, Zav made the case that for now, the Tavonesi windmill was a beautiful, inspiring and decent choice for a county looking to be a leader in alternative sources of power.

Alana saw the chairman suppress a smile. Zav had a reputation for disliking technology. The look on the chairman’s face told Alana that she wasn’t the only one who knew he’d been sweet on her Nana.

To Alana’s great relief, the permit for the windmill was unanimously approved.

Zav had coached her to low-key their victory, so she simply thanked the supervisors, gathered her papers and followed her team out of the hearing room.

She was about to step into the ranch Jeep when a man from the North Coast citizen’s group stopped her.

“Don’t you think it’s rather hypocritical, you flying around the planet in private jets and living the high life and then having a green windmill and an organic ranch?”

Alana didn’t bite the guy’s head off. His approach might be rude, but there was a grain of truth to his comment, even if she only rarely got to enjoy a private jet.

“Well,” she said, lowering her sunglasses and peering over the top at him, “we’ve all got to start somewhere.” She slid behind the wheel. “And by the way, the windmill’s not green. It’s white.”

After the permit meeting Zav insisted on returning with her to the ranch and meeting the woman who’d dared to squat on his land.

“Who knows?” he said. “Maybe I’ll ask for back rent.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Of course not. But I want to meet her. She had some gall just setting up like that on my ranch.”

“You didn’t even know she was there.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Alana turned down the drive to the Tavonesi Ranch.

Zav looked over to where the windmill stood, high on the west knoll, its three graceful blades as still as a sentry in the afternoon sun. “You did well today,” he said. “Jo would’ve been proud.”

Alana swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “I think she intended to team us up from the beginning. I only wonder what other surprises she has lined up.”

“I know of one,” Zav said.

“Spill.”

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise. You’ll have to wait. Maybe even a couple of years. It has conditions attached.”

Alana groaned.

“Nobody said this was going to be easy.” He chuckled, apparently pleased with himself.

“I feel like I’ve fallen into some sort of video game and only passed the first challenge.”

“I wouldn’t know about video games,” Zav said. He pointed out the window. “Looks like you have a welcoming committee.”

She pulled up in front of the frantoio. Jed must’ve called in the news, and the staff must’ve seen the Jeep coming down the drive. They were lined up like in a scene from
Downton Abbey
, except that smiles were plastered on their excited faces.

Gustavo opened her door and helped her out of the Jeep with a flourish. Peg ran up and hugged her.

“You did it!” Peg exclaimed.

“With a ton of help,” Alana said as a flush of embarrassment shot through her “You all did the work. I just showed up and presented it.”

“Showing up is sometimes the most important part,” Peg said as the other staff members congratulated her one by one.

“None of this would’ve happened without Mr. Hartman,” Alana said. She motioned to him to join her; he’d hung back, watching and nodding.

He shook off her praise and thanks.

“C’mon.” Peg said. “Isobel has a surprise for you.” She pointed to Zav. “For both of you.”

She led Alana and Zav to a tent the staff had set up beside the entrance to the frantoio. A long cake with a marzipan windmill was flanked by forks and plates.

“It’s beautiful, Isobel. But what if—”

“I knew you’d succeed, Alana. I made this cake yesterday.”

“Good thing you didn’t haul out the champagne,” Zav said gruffly as Isobel handed him his plate. “We don’t know if the damned thing works yet.”

Alana laughed. “Jed says we can have it running by next Wednesday. I say we haul out the champagne then, invite all the neighbors.”

There were cheers all around. Rafael kissed Isobel on the nape of her neck as she handed him his plate. The gentle, loving gesture stopped Alana. There, in that gesture, that moment, she saw what was missing from her life.

After everybody went back to their work, Alana sent Zav off with Gustavo to meet Iris.

Seeking a few quiet moments, Alana walked down to the barn.

She had the ranch and she had a sense of purpose. So maybe she didn’t need anybody special. She cursed Matt again for dropping into her life and turning everything upside down. The irony was he’d done it without trying. Life, it seemed, had plans of its own.

Some nights as she lay sleepless, she wished she’d never met him. The problem was, when she did sleep, she dreamed of him, and lately they’d been vivid dreams—sensual, passionate, world-rocking dreams.

The barn door creaked as she pushed it along the track and opened it to let in the light. A swallow flew out. They’d made nests in the rafters, and Gustavo hadn’t had the heart to flush them out.

She ambled to the north-facing window, where she’d set up her easel, and uncovered the painting she’d been working on for the past week. Sophie stared back at her from the canvas, wide-eyed and smiling, surrounded by the butterfly garden. The fairy village in the bottom corner was just taking shape. Although she wasn’t one to use elements such as glitter, this painting called for it, and she made a mental note to get some when she next went to town.

But as she lifted her brush to fill in the thatching on the fairy houses and stared at the look in Sophie’s eyes, a deep wave of sadness shuddered in her. Just as she was paying attention and getting her feet under her, she discovered she didn’t have what she now knew mattered more than anything.

But she couldn’t blame Matt. He’d shown her what true passion felt like, what it meant to have body and heart fully engaged. And no matter how sad she felt about having to push him away, she knew she’d done the right thing. That part felt good. It also felt downright rotten.

She looked out the barn door, across the hills dotted with olive trees and out farther to the land surrounding the orchards that would be forever held in trust as a wild habitat. The property was beautiful, full of life and full of promise. Why couldn’t she have it and love too?

Next time, if there ever was a next time, she vowed she wouldn’t let love slip through her hands.

But Zav was right. She had the ranch. She might not know how to run each of the divisions, but she knew how to hire the right people and had learned how to work with the amazing talent already in place. A weight had lifted when she’d realized she needn’t take on every detail, as Nana had. She could keep at her painting, build a small studio space into the barn, and maybe even fit in some traveling during the quieter season after the harvests. Somewhere along the line, Nana’s dream and her own had merged, and what flowed out of that meeting was a life that Alana had grown to love. She intended to make her plans known after the celebration she was secretly planning for when the windmill was finally operating. The thought of that party made her smile.