Читать книгу Twice in a Blue Moon - Laura Drake - Страница 14
ОглавлениеWHENTHEANTIQUEclock over the mantel gonged twice, Indigo dropped the floor brush into the bucket and pulled off her rubber gloves. Two in the morning and I still have to make the bed. She sat back on her heels at the edge of the bathroom floor, then pushed to her feet. At least she had a fresh bed to fall into. She dug a knuckle into the cramping muscle in the small of her back. She’d earned it hauling the mattress in from its airing on the porch.
Her hard work had paid off. She walked into the great room of Uncle Bob’s cabin, proud of the warm glow of lamplight on clean paneling. Someone would have to be hired to haul away the mountain of crap she’d tossed out the back door, but she’d worry about that tomorrow.
Burnished copper-bottom pots once again hung where they belonged over the stove. The starched gingham curtains were pulled back from a window that worked as a mirror, reflecting the room. After a rocky start, losing her breakfast after touring the bathroom this afternoon, her mood had lightened with every room she restored. Her body ached, and she might have to burn these clothes, but she’d been right—this was her job to do.
She ran a hand over the wooden grapes in the hand-carved mantel. “Welcome home, Uncle Bob.”
* * *
ATEXACTLYNINE-THIRTY that morning, a woman strode through the door of the tasting room, two women in her wake.
Sooondra. She was willowy as a Lladró porcelain. Her perfectly straight ash-blond hair fell to the middle of a butt sculpted, no doubt, by hundreds of Pilates sessions. Her tasteful pencil skirt and crisp white tailored blouse were all business, and the high heels that tapped a staccato beat across the wood floor made the elegant line of her leg even longer. Her face was a juxtaposition of soft and hard that made it difficult to look away. Wide-spaced elongated eyes over sleek, soft cheeks ended in a chin that could slice paper. Stopping in front of Indigo, she flipped a sheaf of hair over her shoulder with a smooth, precise move. She looked like an Afghan Hound at a Westminster show: aloof, entitled, untouchable.
She sniffed and glanced around. “Well, it’s still standing.”
Well, la-de-da. Ms. Perky Ass has arrived. Indigo gritted her teeth in what she hoped looked like a smile. “It’s a bit rough, but the cleaning crew won’t be here until next week, so our first job will be getting this place ready for business.”
Sondra looked down her long nose. “You do not expect serving staff to do manual labor.”
Indigo shrugged, holding her hands out to the empty room. “I don’t see any customers to serve, do you?” She dusted her hands, then offered one to shake. “I’m Indigo Blue. You’re Sondra, obviously. Will you introduce me to your coworkers?”
Sondra shook the ends of Indigo’s fingers, then turned, displaying the women behind her with a game show model’s flourish. “This is Natalie Baddorf.” A petite brunette in soft camel slacks and a white blouse just like Sondra’s, tipped her head. “She’s a wine professional and server. Her expertise is eclipsed only by my own.” She turned to her other minion. “And this is Becky Stiles, the salesperson for the gift shop, and my cashier.”
My cashier?
Becky looked like a copper penny among diamonds, a fresh-faced redhead with a dusting of freckles across her nose. She smiled then burst forward to give Indigo’s hand a firm shake. “I’m glad to be back, Ms. Blue.”
This could be a strong team. Sondra and Natalie’s expertise and high class would impress the wine aficionados, and Becky’s charm and girl-next-door looks would keep newbies from being intimidated. “I’m glad to meet you all. We’re going to have to roll up our sleeves because it’s up to us, along with our new manager, to turn The Tippling Widow into a winery Uncle Bob would be proud of.” She lifted from the bar three dark green aprons with the winery’s logo across the breast: the name in script, with the I’s in Tippling and Widow the stem of a wineglass. “And we’re starting today.” She handed out the aprons, then slipped the last one over her own head, crossed the strings behind her and tied them in front.
Sondra’s chin lifted, and she eyed the apron in her fingers with an arched brow.
This was the moment Indigo had worried over. And over. If Sondra wouldn’t follow orders, this wasn’t going to work. What would happen then, Indigo didn’t want to contemplate. Uncle Bob had trusted these women, and Indigo didn’t have the knowledge to even interview for these positions. She stilled herself, though she could almost hear the stress humming through her like electricity in a high line.
Natalie and Becky stood holding the aprons, watching their boss’s cue for what to do next.
Sondra gave a theatrical sigh. “We can’t work in this filth, regardless.” She dropped the apron on the bar. “I won’t need this to supervise.” She glanced at her charges and clapped her hands. “Well, ladies, what are you waiting for? We don’t have a minute to spare if this tasting room is going to be fit for customers.”
Barney’s collar jingled when he trotted into the room.
“Is that a dog?” Sondra made it sound like cockroach.
Barney skidded to a stop at Indigo’s feet, and she leaned over to play with his ears. “This is our mascot, Barnabas. Barney to his friends.”
“Oh, how cute!” Becky bent to pet him.
“Do not touch that. You cannot have an animal in the serving room. It’s a clear health-code violation.”
“It’s an FDA recommendation, not a hard rule. It’s up to the owner’s discretion.” She straightened and leveled a stare at Sondra. “And I’m the owner.”
The area at the base of Sondra’s nostrils went white. Her gray eyes went dark. She stared back.
No one moved, even at the sound of boots clumping across the wooden porch.
“Hey, look who’s here! My old pal Sandy.” Danovan strode up and enveloped Sondra in a huge hug. “I knew there was a beautiful woman missing from my life.”
Sondra air-kissed both his cheeks and smiled up at him. “Danovan DiCarlo, you big flirt. I should have known that if a woman inherited a winery, you’d be working there.”
He released Sondra as if she’d just scalded him. When he turned to Indigo, his cheeks were pink. “Reporting for duty, Ms. Blue. Er—Indigo.”
He wore nothing special: suede boots, chinos and an ivory cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled on his tanned forearms. But he still managed to look like a cover model with his sexy eyes, a crooked smile and the testosterone that he wore like cologne.
Indigo pulled herself from the shock of seeing Sondra tease. “Morning, Danovan. Let’s go to my office to talk.” She turned to Sondra and her entourage. “Nice meeting you, ladies. We’ll catch up later.” She led the way across the floor to the wooden door marked Employees Only. He was there to open it before she could reach for the handle.
She felt back in control once she sat behind her desk. Danovan took the office chair. “You’re a friend of Sondra’s?”
The incredulity must have bled into her tone, because he smiled. “She and I worked together at another winery. Sandy’s a pussycat.”
She blew back her bangs. “So is a panther, but I wouldn’t want to try to pet one.”
He laughed.
With his charm, he probably could tame a wildcat. “Let’s get started.” She gathered her bullet list of questions from the desk. “Since I’m not even sure where to begin, I think it best if I just shadow you for now, don’t you?”
“That’s a good idea.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I’d like to inspect the vines first, then move on to the production facility. Before anything else happens, I need to assess where we are so we can put together a plan to get The Widow back on her feet. All right?”
“I’m right behind you.” She stood. “Oh, by the way, the manager’s quarters are clean and ready for you to move in.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that after work today.” He stood and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”
* * *
HENOTEDAfine tremor in her hand when she reached for her notes. She hides it well, but she’s nervous. At least I’m not the only one. Hopefully the last-chance jitters he put on with his clothes this morning would wear off as the day went on.
He led the way to the vines, noting the drainage, exposure and sheltering along the tree-lined border. It was obvious that Bob Stone understood grapes. Nurturing delicate vines was a labor of love that required a scientist’s knowledge, a shaman’s intuition and strong parenting skills. He squatted to inspect a vine, gratified to see strong bud nodes and new shoots while his boss rattled off facts she must’ve looked up since he last saw her.
“The vines are a hybrid with the European Vitis vinifera, which I understand to be a good thing.”
“The best. What else do you know?” He dug his fingers into the too-hard soil.
“Our grapes are Cabernet Sauvignon and merlot on the red side, and a Chardonnay on the white. Those are European. Uncle Bob was experimenting with a few American zinfandel varietals before he passed away.”
He grunted a reply and brushed dead leaves from the base of a vine to inspect for bugs.
“I think it looks pretty good out here, no? A little tidying maybe...” Her voice trailed off to a wish.
He brushed the dirt from his hands and straightened. His boss stood pen in hand, ready to make more lists. He hoped she’d brought enough paper. “It looks like nothing has been done since pruning last winter.” He gazed over the messy rows that sprawled down the slope of the hill. “The debris from last year’s crop needs to be removed, and the soil tilled. We’re already late putting up this year’s trellis and tying the tendrils to it. All the support posts need to be tested and loose ones pounded back in. We need to put together a spray schedule for fungus and determine what fertilizer the soil needs. Do you know when the last soil analysis was done?”
She scribbled fast, her tongue caught between her teeth. “Um...soil samples?”
“Never mind. I’ll find them. Let’s go.”
She finished writing then jogged to catch up. He led the way to the covered outdoor grape crush pad and press, noting that they were at least clean. They wouldn’t be used until the crop was harvested in the fall, but all looked in order.
When they reached the production facility, he held the door for her.
She ducked under his arm. “When I arrived ten days ago, the AC was out. Luckily, it had just happened.” She pointed to the ceiling. “The repairman finished replacing the whole thing earlier this week.”
Shiny aluminum ductwork snaked across the ceiling. “What’d it cost?”
She named a figure that was a third higher than it should have been.
He cleared his throat. “That is...”
She scanned his face with a look of innocent hopefulness, like a young girl who just asked for verification that there was a Santa.
“Fine.” He cleared the gruff from his throat. She would have enough to worry about by the time he was done. No need to make her feel bad about a decision that it was too late to rectify.
She led the way through the shipping area. Cardboard boxes stacked on pallets filled the floor.
“Where are your—our warehouse employees?”
She glanced to the empty shipping tables and the abandoned forklift beside them. “We’ll have to hire some.”
“No shippers? Don’t we have orders waiting to be filled?”
“Not so much.” She put her lists and her pen down on a case and turned to him. “Look. I’ll be upfront with you. The last manager was a lazy drunk. The employees quit. I haven’t asked around about our reputation, but the trickle of orders tells me what I don’t want to know.”
She jammed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, which squared her shoulders. And pulled the green apron tight across her chest. “Getting The Widow in shape is going to take a lot of work. I know it. Now you know it.” Her chin came up. “But it’ll be so worth it. I can tell you exactly what it’s going to be like.” She looked off into the warehouse, but he was sure she wasn’t seeing metal walls or new ductwork. “We’ll have a pond in front with those fancy goldfish. Customers sipping wine on the front porch will be able to hear the ornamental waterfall. We’ll have wedding receptions on the lawn. I’ll teach yoga classes and aromatherapy and do massage.” Thick brown hair curtained her face when she ducked her head, but not before he saw her pink-stained cheeks. “I have ideas. I know looking at it now makes all this sound crazy. But this could be so much more than just a place to sell wine.”
“Well, with you and me working together, we’ll make that dream happen.”
She had her aspirations. He had his. He imagined a dark bottle with a black label that read: DiCarlo Select Merlot.
He shook his head. This dreaming thing was contagious. “We’d better get started if we’re going to get all that done.” He smiled at her and got a tentative one in return. She was a naïve dreamer, but damned if she wasn’t a good-looking one.
Rein it in, DiCarlo. That’s what got you in trouble last time. He’d learned the hard way that work and women didn’t mix.
He stopped at the glass wall of his office, overlooking the bottling line. He’d love to begin work in the adjoining lab, but first things first. “I’m going to find those soil sample reports and see what other information was left by the last manager.”
“All right. I’ll be in my office, trying to scare up a couple of warehouse employees.”
“Could we go over the financials later? I need to know where we stand so we can determine how many more employees we can afford to hire.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Hope mingled with the dreams in her brown eyes before she walked away.
Lucky thing she didn’t know what an unlikely hero she’d hired. But Indigo’s enthusiasm was catching. Jitters gone, he walked into his office, his step light.
And for the first time in months, his spirits lifted from the floor of hopeless.
* * *
SEVENHOURSLATER, Danovan returned the test tube of wine to the wire rack and jotted one last note. He’d found the testing equipment dusty and outdated. Apparently the last manager believed that tasting wine in large quantities was superior to using chemistry. And the wine quality showed it.
His stomach growled, protesting his decision to turn down his boss’s lunch offer. But he’d been trying to get his arms around the production end of the business. He closed the spiral notebook. Time to fill her in on his armload of problems.
His steps echoed in the dim production building. No reason to burn lights in a deserted warehouse. The bottling line disappeared into gloom, and the fermenting tanks looked like boulders in a dark canyon. He passed through the barrel room into the lit-up tasting room. The long wood bar gleamed, the slate floor had been washed and there was not a cobweb or speck of dust to be seen. Looked like the retail employees had been busy. He flipped off the lights on his way out.
Pushing open the door to the private wing, he was surprised to find Indigo’s office dark. Had she forgotten they were going to meet? Damn, he’d wanted to review those financials tonight.
As he walked to the door of his quarters, he figured he shouldn’t have expected otherwise from a Hollywood A-lister.
Clang! “Dammit!”
The sound came from across the hall. He pushed open the door to the long storage room.
All he could see of his boss was her jeans-clad legs. The rest was obscured by a stainless cylinder she lugged blindly across the floor.
He stepped forward. “Here, let me have that.”
She squeaked and dropped the fixture.
Luckily he made it there in time to catch it. “What are you doing?” He set the drum on the floor between them.
She put a hand to her chest. “God, you scared me.” With her other hand, she swiped hair out of her eyes. “Spring cleaning. This is going to be my yoga studio.”
An imprint of dirt streaked her reddened face and continued down her sweatshirt. Her smell bridged the gap between them—not sweaty, exactly, but more an intensification of her normal scent—earthy, natural. She must have been at this awhile, because the room was empty save this drum. Maybe he should rethink his A-lister assumptions. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“Because what you were doing was more important than manual labor, which is about all I’m qualified to do.”
“Well, next time, come get me. This is heavy.” He lifted the drum. “Where do you want it?”
“Just out in the hall for now.” She held the door for him.
He set it to the side of the exit door and dusted his hands. “Have you eaten?”
She shook her head.
“I’m starving. But it’s too late for a run to town.” He tipped his head to the apartment door. “You leave anything to eat in there?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. I’ll make us something. Come on.” He unlocked the door with the key she’d given him earlier.
She hovered on the doorsill a few seconds. Then, as if making up her mind, she stepped in, brushing by him. “Danovan, why don’t you get your things from your car? By the time you’re done, I’ll have food ready.”
Good as her word, once he’d brought in the last armload of books, Indigo had soup and sandwiches on the small table.
“Looks great. Thank you.” He held out a chair for her then sat opposite.
“It’s just grilled cheese, and soup from a can.”
“Sounds good to me.” He took a bite of the sandwich. The bread was tangy and crunchy, the cheese rich and hot. “Hmm. This doesn’t taste like any grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”
“It’s rye, with sharp cheddar and Swiss cheese. I used to make it all the time for...” Her lips twisted in a spasm. Then it was gone. “I used to make it all the time.”
“Well, it’s damned good.”
“Thanks.” She sipped a spoonful of soup. “I called the unemployment office today, and I’ll have a couple of warehouse workers interviewing tomorrow. I’m hoping one man can handle both stock and shipping. We can’t afford specialists at the moment.”
“Good thinking.”
“How are we doing from your viewpoint?”
He took a bite to avoid answering. He didn’t want to ruin her dinner. Besides, he didn’t have the whole picture yet. He swallowed.
He saw that look of hopeful watching.
She’s your boss. You owe her the facts.
But that look made him hold back.
He couldn’t help it. He loved women. Not necessarily in a lustful way, though there would be many who would dispute that. He just appreciated the gender. From toddlers to little old ladies, he was endlessly fascinated by the way their minds worked, so differently from his. He loved their organizational and multitasking abilities. He loved their delicate bones and envied their mental strength. He loved their softness, their chattiness, their smell.
He loved their smell.
“Well?”
“Do you mind if we discuss that tomorrow after I’ve reviewed the financials? I’d like to have the complete picture before I make suggestions for expenditures.”
Her brows pulled together, a sure sign of the worry he was trying to save her from.
He shifted in the chair.
“Okay. But first thing tomorrow, right?”
With his finger, he traced an X over his heart. “If you’d like, I can make out a list of things to be done.” He knew that would appeal to her bookkeeper soul. “I’ll prioritize it.”
She picked up her spoon. “Good.”
They ate in silence for a minute.
“Why wine?”
He looked up. “You mean, as a career?”
She nodded. “Is your family in the industry?” Her tone was casual, but she didn’t fool him.
She’s digging. She doesn’t trust you.
“Hardly.” He wiped his lips with the napkin. “My father is a federal appeals-court judge, and my mother is the headmistress of a girls’ prep school in Georgetown. My brother is a Wall Street trader, and my sister is a partner in a big CPA firm in Seattle.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, no pressure being the youngest swimming in that gene pool.” Seeing she was done, he lifted both their plates.
She started to rise.
“I’ll get the dishes and cleanup. It’s my apartment now, after all.” He carried the dishes to the sink. “I didn’t like school much as a kid. Didn’t get why I had to know about ancient Greece and quadratic equations.” He located the dish soap under the sink. “But I always loved growing things. My mom says I drove the gardeners nuts, digging up the daffodils as a toddler.” He ran the water until it was hot, then plugged the sink, squirted in some detergent. “The wine bug hit in high school. My parents appreciated a nice red and it turned out I was lucky to be born with a sensitive palate.” He started with their dinner plates. “I was subscribed to Wine Enthusiast by tenth grade and couldn’t wait until I could legally attend wine tastings.”
“I’ll dry.” Indigo walked up, a kitchen towel in her hand. “I’ve heard high school drinking stories, but they didn’t sound like that.”
He rinsed a plate and handed it to her. “You ‘heard.’ Does that mean you didn’t drink in high school?”
“I mean I didn’t attend high school. I grew up on a commune in northern California. I was homeschooled. Nothing but natural, healthy living.”
He started on the soup pot. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. You have a natural look about you. Sounds like an idyllic childhood.”
“It was.” Her smile was happy and sad all at the same time. “But, trust me, I made up for it later.”
“In Hollywood?” He wondered what was behind that bittersweet smile, but it winked out.
“Oh, I almost forgot the financials.” Her words came out snipped off at the ends. She wiped her hands on the towel and dropped it on the counter. “I’ll go get them.”
Then she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her.
Well, there’s a no-fly zone if I ever saw one. He finished the dishes and rummaged in the cabinets until he found where they all belonged.
She rapped on the door, pushed it open, but didn’t step in. She reached across the small space to hand him a slim file folder. “Here you go. I’ve got to get back to the cabin and feed Barney. I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned away.
“Hang on. It’s pitch black out there. I’ll walk you home.” He reached for his jacket.
“No, I’ve got it covered.” She waved a flashlight.
“It’s no bother. I don’t feel good about—”
“Look.” She put a hand on her hip. “I’m not helpless, or incompetent. I’m capable of walking a hundred yards in the dark by myself.”
He raised his hands. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned and marched down the hall.
He closed the door. Better this way. He didn’t need to know what shaped the soft and hard edges of Indigo Blue in order to work for her.
But he wondered, just the same.
