“Charlotte,” I called. She halted at the wide archway that separated the living room from the foyer, looking back at me. “Have the police been by? Or called?”
“No,” she said, and turned and walked toward the kitchen. I wondered why she wasn’t curious about why I’d asked that question. Perhaps she just couldn’t take on one more issue right now. Join the club.
I downed the two pills Charlotte left and then went upstairs and showered, letting the hot spray soothe my sore muscles. After I dressed, I went into the guest bedroom across the hall to look out at the grapevines beyond. The equipment and the men were still there. Fools! It was all a waste of time.
I flopped down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, the one I’d stared at in wonder so many nights after Kira and I had made love. Stop. Don’t think of her—not right now. Was she waking up with Cooper this morning? Were they having breakfast in bed? My own torturous thoughts propelled me off the bed and I went in hunt of that second bottle of scotch. I’d drink so much I’d pickle my brain and kill all the cells that held memories of her.
Charlotte was in the living room, folding the blanket I’d half slept under the night before. I glanced out the window again and muttered, “They’re all wasting their time. I despise this place. Even if I had a way to make it successful, I wouldn’t bother now. I’d rather tear it apart like my father did. There are only lies and bad memories here.” Perhaps I was starting to understand the old bastard now.
“If that’s what you believe, then I guess it’s true.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I do believe it. I know it.”
“Okay.”
I pressed my lips together, angry that Charlotte could still aggravate me with only a few words.
Apparently, she wasn’t done. “Walter’s out there too, you know,” she said as I bent to the liquor cabinet. “I just hope his back doesn’t give out. And his arthritis makes him slow. And of course, he has trouble seeing well now too.” She sighed. “I do hope he’s plucking the right grapes…”
I halted, rolling my eyes. “Walter’s the picture of health.”
She looked at me as though she hadn’t noticed I was there. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. You go right back to brooding and drinking yourself into oblivion.”
I glared at her. “Don’t you think I have good reason to brood and drink?” My God, my life had recently been decimated—again. A little sympathy wouldn’t be out of line.
“Oh yes. Good reason, indeed,” Charlotte agreed. “But if you take a break from that, maybe give the men a little wave now and again. I’m certain a thumbs-up from the window will be encouraging too. I’m sure it will boost their spirits as they do hard manual labor for less than minimum wage in the hot sun all day.”
“Jesus. You’re something, you know that?”
She looked briefly satisfied.
“And it’s not even that hot anyway,” I muttered sullenly. I was fully aware she was attempting to guilt-trip me. I sighed, my gaze sliding to the window again. The truth was, though, that maybe a day of hard labor would be a better way to clear my mind than alcohol. And at least it wouldn’t leave me feeling as if there were a ten-ton boulder sitting on my head.
“If it means not listening to you a second longer, I’ll go out there and work my fingers to the bone,” I grumbled, attempting to salvage some pride if possible.
Charlotte shrugged, but I saw her lips curve up into a smile before she turned away.
Damn her.
* * *
When I came in that evening, dirty and sweat soaked, every muscle in my body ached. Apparently, Harley had contacted every ex-con he knew in the northern hemisphere and they were all working at my vineyard. I didn’t know if it would amount to anything, but the sick feeling I’d had in my stomach when I thought of the fruit I’d cared for so carefully rotting and dropping to the ground had abated. At the very least, it would be in barrels, and I’d be able to start bottling the wine. And when I sold this vineyard, I’d get a higher price if it was a working winery and not one that was back on its way to ruin. I’d divorce Kira, make a little money off the sale of Hawthorn Vineyard, and go somewhere and do…something. But what? What did I know apart from winemaking? Not much. The business degree I’d earned long ago in college was a waste now. Plus, few people wanted to hire a convicted felon. Misery threatened. The thoughts that had taken a back seat in my mind as I’d worked all day were back again to torture me.
I took a quick shower and started to head downstairs, pausing in front of the room Kira had stayed in before she’d moved into what I still thought of as our room. Pain squeezed my heart as I looked around the empty space. I opened the closet, but she hadn’t left anything behind. But when I pulled the top drawer of the dresser open, I discovered two forgotten nightshirts. Shamefully, I brought them to my nose and inhaled, breathing in the lingering scent of her, sweet and delicate. I held back the tormented groan that rose in my throat and placed them back where they’d been. That’s when I spotted what looked like a small ring box. I picked it up and opened it slowly, inhaling a deep gulp of air when I saw a platinum men’s wedding band. I pulled it from the dark blue velvet and held it up to the light.
My Dragon. My Love.
The words inscribed inside the ring felt like a blow to my already aching heart. I stood there for what felt like a long time, confusion swirling through me. Finally, I put the ring back in the box and placed it in the drawer and headed downstairs to greet Harley, Virgil, and José, who Charlotte had asked to stay for dinner. They were just arriving, all looking dirty, tired, but somehow happy. Guilt piled on top of my heartache. Despite all their work, in the end, I wouldn’t be able to offer them much. They’d have to find a job somewhere else.
I fist-bumped Harley as I thanked him again.
“Man, you didn’t think I’d stop looking out for you just because we’re on the outside now, did you?” He smiled, massaging his brown, beefy arms. I was sure he was as sore as me, maybe more. He’d been working since sunrise.
“I don’t deserve it, Harley,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Maybe, maybe not. That’s not for me to judge. I only know who my friends are, and I help my friends. I owe you my life. I owe Kira my life too. Anything either of you ask, and I’m all in. No questions.”
Sudden emotion welled up and I swallowed it down. All I could offer was a nod.
“My woman feels the same too. You got me? Priscilla’s one hell of a woman.” He grinned.
Virgil lumbered in, interrupting us. “Hey, Virgil,” I said. Sugar Pie was behind him.
“Hi, Mr. Hawthorn, sir.” He smiled happily. “Picking grapes, making wine!”
I smiled back. “Thank you, Virgil.” I reached up and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a good man.”
“José,” I greeted when he, too, came through the door. “Let’s eat.”
As we headed toward the kitchen, Walter was coming down the stairs. He didn’t look well, and the fact that he’d worked all day for me caused a wave of guilt. Christ, he was twice my age. I frowned as he grabbed for the railing, bringing one hand to his chest. “Walter?” I asked, alarm spiking.