Under A Harvest Moon
UNDER A HARVEST MOON
A Novel
By Joleen James
UNDER A HARVEST MOON
Copyright © 2013 by Joleen James
All right reserved. Except as permitted under the U. S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereafter invented, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is coincidental.
Cover Art by Visual Quill
This one is for The Village...you know who you are.
For as long as I can remember I've been in love with vineyards and the winemaking business.
Under A Harvest Moon
is filled with my passion for both. I loved doing the research. I loved traveling to vineyards all over Washington, Oregon, and California. I loved tasting the different wines. Mostly, I fell in love with the vineyards themselves; the beauty, the peace, and the passion winemakers have for the grapes.
Recently, I traveled to Italy. I was lucky enough to visit several wineries/vineyards, big and small. No matter the size, each winery and the surrounding vineyard held all the charm and romance you can imagine. It's that charm and romance that I've tried to bring to this book. I hope you enjoy Nico and Danielle's story as much as I do.
Thanks for reading!
Joleen James
Early August -- Sun Grove, Washington
Nico Delrosario popped a grape into his mouth, biting through the tough skin. Sour juice burst from the grape. He spat the bitter fruit out.
"Well?" Phillip Whitney asked. He peered at Nico from under the brim of his worn straw hat, one gray eyebrow cocked against the glare of the late afternoon sun.
"Not bad," Nico said, "considering we still have six weeks or more until harvest."
"Good." Phillip gave him a slow nod before ambling on down the row, his eyes assessing the grapes. As the owner and founder of Whitney Vineyards, this harvest meant as much to Phillip as it did to Nico.
Their wines were finally earning critical acclaim, their grapes producing some of the finest wines in the Sun Grove region. But always festering in the back of Nico's mind was the fear of one bad harvest. To be successful, they had to move forward, stay on top, be the best.
Phillip pulled his refractometer from his shirt pocket. He plucked a handful of young grapes from the vine, shaking and squeezing them before he poured the juice into the meter to test the brix, the alcohol/sugar content of the ripening grapes.
Phillip stared into the device. "Eighteen. Right on schedule."
Nico ran a critical eye over the vines, the clusters of grapes, the supple leaves. As far as he could see the seventy-five acre vineyard thrived. The sight filled him with contentment, an emotion he'd rarely felt in the year since his divorce from Liz. Only in the vineyard could he forget the mess his personal life was in.
Phillip moved on, his pace slow, slower than Nico remembered. He studied his mentor, his friend. Phillip stumbled. Nico quick-stepped, taking the older man's arm. The frailness of Phillip's bones under his loose-fitting white shirt startled Nico.
"Too much sun," Nico stated.
"Let go." Phillip shook his arm free, a scowl on his sun-browned face. "I'm not dead yet."
"No, but I think it's time for a visit to Doc Waters."
Phillip pursed his lips before saying, "I'm fine."
Unconvinced, Nico said, "We should go back." He wanted to get Phillip out of sun and into his favorite rocker on the front porch of Whitney House. "It's almost four. Lola will have your supper ready in an hour."
Phillip nodded, and Nico noted the bead of sweat that ran down the older man's temple. The golf cart they'd driven out in was still a good quarter of a mile away. He wasn't sure Phillip could make it back.
"Wait here. I'll bring the cart closer," Nico suggested.
"Go," Phillip said with an impatient wave of his hand.
Phillip didn't allow coddling. Something
was
wrong. Alarmed, Nico took off at a sprint. It didn't take him long to reach the cart. Once inside, he turned the engine over and drove into the narrow row between the vines. The path wasn't wide enough for the cart here; canes snagged on the vehicle, snapping.
When he didn't see Phillip standing on the path, Nico looked to the ground, locating Phillip's crumpled body.
Nico hit the brakes. He jumped from the cart, dropping to his knees beside Phillip. "What is it?"
Phillip's hand clutched at his chest. Pain clouded his brown eyes.
"Your heart?" Nico yanked his phone from his pocket. He punched in 911. "This is Nico Delrosario," he said when the dispatcher came on the line. "I'm at Whitney Vineyards, 1500 Old River Road. I'm with Phillip Whitney. I think he's having a heart attack." He answered the dispatcher's questions about Phillip, and gave her additional directions to Block 8 where they were. The dispatcher told Nico to stay on the line. He set the phone down within easy reach.
"Hang on, Phillip." Fear tightened his own chest.
"I'm not afraid to die." Phillip's forehead wrinkled with pain. Sweat beaded his skin. "But I can't go, not yet. Danielle and I aren't finished. You and I aren't finished."
"You're not going to die," Nico said with conviction. "I'll call Danielle. Ask her to come."
Phillip moaned, his fingers clutching at Nico's shirtfront. "Tell Danielle I love her. I'm sorry, Nico. So sorry."
Nico had no idea what Phillip was sorry for. In fact, from where he stood, Danielle owed her father an apology. What kind of daughter never called, never visited? Danielle had turned her back on her father. She'd squandered a life Nico could only dream about having. Danielle had broken Phillip's heart.
"God forgive me." Phillip looked straight into Nico's eyes. "Forgive me, Nico."
Phillip's eyes fluttered closed. Was he breathing? Nico's CPR training kicked into gear. He listened for Phillip's breath, checked for a pulse. Nothing.
Frantic now, he began CPR. Where the hell were the medics?
Please God, don't let him die. Not yet
.
Nico pumped Phillip's chest, working to save him, working to save the man who'd saved him.
***
Two Weeks Later
"I can't believe we're here," Danielle Whitney Rankin said. "I never thought I'd live at Whitney House again, yet here we are."
She cast a glance over her shoulder at her ten-year-old son, Kaiden, who sat in the backseat of the Jetta. His eyes were still glued to his Nintendo DS, had been for the entire five-hour drive from Seattle to Sun Grove. She reached back and placed her hand over the game.
"Game over," she said. "Let's go." She ignored Kaiden's scowl and climbed out of the car.
Danielle paused. Whitney House, her childhood home. Painted a bright white with forest green shutters at the windows, Whitney House sat on a gentle rise, enjoying a full three hundred and sixty degree view of the valley and the Blue Mountains. Built in 1920, the farm house looked exactly as she remembered it. She waited for a rush of nostalgia, but none came. What would she find inside? Would the ghost of her father be waiting?
Since Phillip Whitney's funeral two weeks ago, nothing had been the same. She'd had no time to feel, to adjust to her father's death, maybe because in so many ways, he'd already been dead to her. She functioned in a surreal state, waiting for the sadness to come, but inside she housed a void, a hole in her heart that would never repair. Learning that she'd inherited Whitney House and the vineyard had been a shock, one she still struggled to recover from.
A hot wind ruffled her hair, and for a moment Danielle pictured her father. He'd been the king of angry tirades when she'd been a girl -- all hot air and bluster.
The wind gusted again, but this time Danielle breathed in the sweet scent of sun-warmed grapevines combined with rich, raw earth. How could she have forgotten the scent? The smell brought it all back, her parents, their fights, her own feelings of helplessness as she watched her life unravel. Betrayal surged through her, surprising her. After all this time her father's actions still had the power to hurt her.
Danielle reached inside the car for her purse. She was being ridiculous. She wasn't a scared kid anymore, and she had plenty of battle scars from her marriage to prove it. She could meet her father's ridiculous demand that she stay in Whitney House for ninety days, then she could sell the place, take the cash, and start over somewhere far away from Sun Grove.
There was no way she'd walk away, no way she'd let Nico inherit what rightfully belonged to her. Nico had taken her place here in more ways than one. When she'd learned how important he'd become to the vineyard and to her father, her heart had broken all over again.
Danielle walked around the car to Kaiden. He unfolded himself from the back seat and got out, his trademark frown in place. She'd been getting the silent treatment since she'd told him about the temporary move here.
"Help me with the groceries, please." She opened the trunk of the car.
Kaiden lifted a bag from the trunk.
He'd grown thin since the divorce, the dark circles under his eyes frightening Danielle. He wasn't eating or sleeping like he should. Danielle recognized the signs of depression. It terrified her to move Kaiden now when he was already so traumatized. She silently cursed her father for forcing her here. Even in death the man was manipulating her.
Danielle looked across the lawn to the old barn. Two men stood in the doorway. Nico was unmistakable, with his dark hair and tall, muscular body. A straw hat covered the head of the other man, but she recognized him as the vintner, Jacques St. Pierre. Her father's attorney had filled her in on the winemaker. Jacques had obtained his degrees in viticulture and winemaking in Europe. The man had a resume that included working in Italy, Germany, and most recently in Napa Valley.