Текст книги "You're Not Safe"
Автор книги: Mary Burton
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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Louis had been an attorney by trade but ten years ago had entered the world of winemaking. He owned a large winery in Fredericksburg and bought most of her grapes at harvest time. He’d purchased the adjacent land hoping to grow grapes as succulent and sweet as Bonneville’s. “When he has a band playing at one of his parties, the music drifts my way.”
“The man knows how to throw a party and thinks he can grow grapes like you.”
She smiled. “The more, the merrier.”
He laughed. “So what have you built here?”
She explained about the tasting room and the winery she planned to build.
“Well, that’s just great. Be sure to keep ol’ Reggie in mind when you host that grand opening party.”
“I will.”
“According to my order you’re hosting one hundred people.”
“That’s right.”
“Will be good publicity for the vineyard.” He handed her a clipboard with an inventory. “If it’s those fancy folks from Austin, then this will be a good event for you. I hear they’re a wine-drinking bunch.”
She signed her signature on the bottom of the form, refusing to feel nervous about facing folks connected to her past. “Let’s hope.”
“So where do you want the food tables and chairs set up?”
“In the main tasting room. I’ve installed the wine shelves but not furnished it yet so you have a blank canvas.” Greer had worried her wine racks would be empty but finally had to let the worry go. Next year she’d have wine and for now settled with small battery-operated votive candles in the bottle spaces, which created a glittering effect.
“Great. Shouldn’t take Manny and me long. The food truck is about an hour behind us.”
“In this heat you’re right not to bring it all at the same time.”
“One big melted mess.”
She spent the next half hour helping the two unload and setting up the tables in the tasting room. She covered each table with linens and in lieu of flowers decorated each table with a cluster of wine bottles and candles. As promised the food truck arrived right as they were putting the final details on the food table.
Reggie unloaded the food, which meant Greer had about a half hour to shower and dress for the event. As she headed out of the tasting room, she spotted Reggie and his assistant unloading a dove ice sculpture. She’d not seen an ice sculpture since the night of Jeff’s party—the night he died.
Despite the afternoon heat a chill ran down her spine as she watched the men wrestle the sculpture onto a pushcart. Years ago, her mother had insisted on the sculpture for her brother’s birthday party. “A touch of class,” her mother had said. Jeff hadn’t cared less about the fancy detail but Greer remembered being jealous of her brother and the dazzling party her mother had created to celebrate his birthday.
Greer cleared her throat. “Reggie, I don’t remember ordering an ice sculpture.”
He settled the sculpture on the cart. “One of the folks at the center ordered and paid for it. Thought it would be a nice touch for the event.”
He pushed the cart toward the air-conditioned room knowing no block of ice would last long in the heat. “Do you know who?”
The cart’s wheels rolled heavily in the graveled driveway. “Not off the top of my head, but I can check when I get back to the office. I made it myself this morning. Is there a problem?”
“No. It’s beautiful. I was just curious.” She summoned a smile. “I need to change. I’ll be back in a half hour.”
“Will do. We should just about be set up by then.”
“Great.”
She sprinted to her house, pushing through the main door. The main room had the same polished wood floor her aunt had laid with her own hands and a large wool Indian rug warming it. A leather couch, two chairs, and an ottoman circled a large, round coffee table made of an old wagon wheel now set under glass. There was a fireplace used often on chilly winter nights and paintings of the Texas sunset. Her aunt never would say who had painted the pictures but she’d cherished the pieces.
She ducked into her room furnished with a simple double bed, a quilt comforter, and a chair by the window for reading. Stripping as she moved, she made her way to the bathroom off her bedroom and turned on the showerhead in the single stall. Soon hot water steamed, and she climbed in under the spray.
The water splashed against her skin, washing away the dirt and the grime from the day’s work. She closed her eyes, savoring this last quiet moment before the people from town arrived.
She understood that many coming didn’t support the Crisis Center but wanted to see her. Many wanted to know what had happened to her after she’d deliberately dropped off the radar a dozen years ago. She’d barely moved fifty miles from her home, but she’d effectively dropped out of sight.
And now she was about to step back into it. She was about to show Austin that she was alive and well and ready to face the past and all its ugliness.
She shut off the hot tap, toweled quickly, and hurried into her room. When she’d been in town days ago, she’d ducked into a dress shop to find a dress for the evening. There’d been a time when shopping had been her mission in life and her day centered on all the right stores and the best designers. But in Zoe’s dress shop she might as well have landed on an alien planet. She’d lost her knack and had wandered through the racks simply lost. Thankfully, the owner had taken pity and chosen a simple blue sheath dress that skimmed her body to her knees, gold sandals, and gold hoop earrings to match. She’d been grateful and not noticed all the items had been on sale until later.
She quickly dried her hair and applied what little make-up she owned: mascara, blush, and lip gloss. Slipping on her sandals she hurried back toward the tasting room so she could do one final inspection and be ready to meet her guests.
Today, full of chaotic activity, had given her barely any time to think or worry about much. She had hustled from one crisis to the next as she did most days at the vineyard.
The room sported three long tables, filled with food supplied by Reggie. In the center of the food stood the dove ice sculpture. Flowing cold lines added elegance to the table but its grace didn’t calm her unease.
The reds were open and breathing and the whites chilling at the tasting bar. José’s work, no doubt. She’d chosen six wines for tonight. Two whites, a blush, two reds, and an ice wine for interest. None was an adventurous wine but they rested easy on the palate and would be a crowd-pleaser. Other than the facility her donation tonight had been the wines. She could scarcely afford it but pride had had her offering the best. She’d not go stumbling back into her old life dragging bad wine with her.
As she stood alone in the tasting room, the beats of silence greeting her provided enough space for apprehension to flower. This was her first party since the accident. The first time since she’d seen anyone from her old life. They were bound to judge. To scrutinize. That’s what they did. And no doubt she’d be found wanting.
She conjured the image of her aunt standing beside her. “Do you really give a crap what they have to say, Greer? Really?”
A smile played at the edges of her lips. “No, I don’t. I don’t.”
“And you shouldn’t, kid. Don’t give a crap.”
Greer was smiling when the door to the tasting room opened, and she turned to find Dr. Stewart in the doorway. He wore a simple white shirt accentuating sandy hair, tanned skin, khakis, and leather loafers. He possessed a casual relaxed air that drew people.
“I expected to find you rattled with nerves, not smiling.”
“Don’t let the grin fool you,” Greer said. “I’m a nervous wreck. In fact, I might scramble behind the bar right now and hide if you say boo.”
Dr. Stewart laughed. “Humor is a good sign. I think you are going to do fine.”
“Keep saying that. Please. I need to hear it.”
“Has Dr. Granger arrived?”
“Not yet. She said she might be a bit late.” She’d also met Dr. Granger on the board. The tall redhead was a psychologist and if Greer remembered correctly was married to a Ranger. A Ranger. Great. One in her life was enough.
Dr. Stewart surveyed the room, and his face glowed with appreciation. “This looks wonderful, Greer.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t filter out the pride from her tone.
“You’ve come a long way since that day we met in the hospital chapel.”
They’d met minutes after her aunt had died. She’d been sitting alone in the chapel wondering what she’d do next.
“I’m proud of you.” His gaze softened. “Remember when I first suggested the idea of a fund-raiser?”
It had been on the heels of her aunt’s funeral when he’d brought up the idea of a signature fund-raiser. She’d summoned her courage and suggested a wine tasting.
“I feel as if you’ve pushed me into the deep end of the pool.”
Dr. Stewart smiled. “And you are swimming just fine. Give it a little more time, and it will even feel comfortable.”
“I don’t know. I think I’m taking on water now.” She moved toward the bar and slid behind it. “Have a drink with me?”
Wrinkles creased the edges of warm eyes. “I’d love one. Long day.”
“You look as if you are dressed for court.” She set two sparkling wineglasses on the bar and filled both knowing she’d barely drink from her own. She’d face her demons tonight sober as a judge.
Dr. Stewart sipped his glass. “Lovely. I was in court today. Testifying on behalf of a mother trying to win custody of her son from an abusive father. He’s got money. She doesn’t. Messy.”
“I bet you won them over.”
“I think, hope, I did.” He sipped the wine. “Really, outstanding wine, Greer.”
“Thank you. That was made by a Texas winemaker who uses Bonneville grapes.”
“And next year you will be making the wine.”
Greer crossed her fingers. “I can’t wait.”
“With you at the helm, this place will really take a leap forward.”
“My aunt had visions of turning the winery into a showplace.”
“And now you will realize her dream. I’m proud of you, Greer.”
She swirled her glass, inhaled the bouquet, and then sipped. “How about I get through the evening first. It could get ugly fast.”
“You will be fine.”
Greer shook her head. “Have you heard about the body the cops found on the edge of my property?”
He nodded. “A few details, not much.”
She swirled her wine and watched as it coated and then dripped down the inside of her glass. Winemakers called these drops tears, which was so appropriate now. “I knew him. From a long time ago.”
Surprise flashed in his gaze. “Before the accident?”
“Just after.” She studied the empty room soon to be full of guests. “I don’t think most people know the dead man and I were friends.”
“But his death, nonetheless, will cause more gossip.”
She sipped her wine and let it coat her mouth. “Gossip is what’s pulling people here tonight. I suppose the more the better.”
“I promise these people don’t have horns or third eyes. They put their pants on exactly like you.”
A small smile. “You might be right about the pants, but I’m not so sure about the horns. This is a tough crowd.”
“And you will woo them and make lots of money for the Crisis Center.”
“What can I say, I’m a multitasker.” Greer glanced beyond Dr. Stewart. “Is your wife coming tonight?”
“She’s promised to be here but she said she’ll be coming straight from work and may be late. Never know what last-minute problems come up in a pediatric practice.”
Dr. Stewart spoke often of his wife, clearly taking great pride in her work. More cars arrived and she spotted Dr. Granger getting out of a BMW.
Dr. Stewart smiled as he watched Dr. Granger get out of her car.
Jo had rotated off the board as Dr. Stewart was joining. Though Greer didn’t know the psychologist well, she liked her.
Jo’s auburn hair, pinned back with a dark clip, accentuated her pale skin and high cheekbones. Jo would never be described as stunning, but she possessed a quality that made her lovely and unforgettable. She wore a dark suit, white blouse, and sensible high heels suggesting she’d come straight from her office.
As the two women chatted, Dr. Stewart got Jo a glass of wine and then excused himself to meet more arrivals.
Jo smiled, not raising her glass to her lips until he’d ventured outside to meet an older woman dressed in blue silk. “Mrs. Vander Hal loves Dr. Stewart. He has a way of sweet-talking her. And from what I hear he’s charmed more than one or two donations out of the good citizens of Austin.”
Greer watched the old woman’s face light up as Dr. Stewart kissed her on the cheek. “Is your husband coming?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a Texas Ranger.”
“That he is.”
“I met a Texas Ranger the other day.”
“Did you?”
“Tec Bragg.”
“Ah. Bragg. A hard man to read or to be ignored.”
“You’ve met him.”
“Through my husband. He’s quiet. Not fond of crowds.”
“Very intense.”
Jo laughed. “An understatement. How did you meet Bragg?”
“They found a man dead on the edge of my property.”
The lightness in Jo’s gaze dimmed. “Really? What happened?”
“The man hanged himself.” Greer didn’t want to delve into the details.
Jo hesitated as if waiting for details but when Greer didn’t offer more, she didn’t push. “How awful.”
“Yes.”
Outside more guests arrived and parked out front. Anxiety crept up Greer’s spine. She did not want to face these people. She did not.
“You okay?” Jo said.
Greer summoned a smile. “I’m about to meet a lot of people I’ve not seen in years.”
Jo studied cars parking outside and the people exiting the vehicles. “They don’t look so scary to me.”
“No?”
Jo leaned forward so only Greer could hear. “Imagine they’re all naked.”
Greer laughed, despite her anxiety. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to hang around?”
“No.” Greer appreciated the offer. “Thanks. But this is something I have to do.” The first guest to arrive at the front door was Mrs. Mark Johnson. She had been a friend of her parents’ and had played doubles tennis with her mother over the years. “Excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Greer moistened her lips, and though she shifted her stance, she did not retreat. “Welcome.”
Mrs. Johnson’s black linen dress set off her tall lean frame, her silver jewelry, and her blond hair. Her ultrasmooth skin was a testimony to her favorite plastic surgeon. “Elizabeth?”
Greer extended her hand. “How are you, Mrs. Johnson?”
Mrs. Johnson studied Greer, boldly absorbing every detail. Cool fingers slipped around Greer’s callused palm. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, a long time.”
“When I saw your name on the invitation I just about fell over. Your mother led me to believe you’d moved to Europe.”
That didn’t surprise her. “No. I’ve been here all the time.”
“I called your mother, but she didn’t get back to me. She’s been traveling.”
Avoiding the questions. “No doubt.”
“I had to do a little digging to find out you’ve been here working with your aunt.”
“That’s right.” More guests were arriving out front and judging by the collection of cars the evening would be a crush. She teetered between cringing and celebrating.
Mrs. Johnson didn’t notice anyone but Greer. “I have so many questions for you. But let’s start with that dead man they found by your property. I heard he was David Edwards’s brother.”
Greer smiled, determined to be calm. Breathe. “So they say. Why don’t you come inside and have a glass of wine.”
A line of people formed behind Mrs. Johnson but again she didn’t notice. She caught the gaze of her neighbor Louis. He tossed her a warm grin, and she couldn’t help but relax a little.
Louis moved toward her, his long lean body accentuated by his dark trousers and dark shirt. “You look like you’re holding up well.”
“So far so good.” Not exactly a lie.
He grinned at several older ladies who were staring at her. They looked away. “Keep up the good work. I’m excited to introduce our wines tonight.”
Louis had purchased the property next to Bonneville but also owned other land in the Hill Country where he made the wine using Bonneville grapes. “They should be a huge hit.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m headed in. Holler if you need me.”
Despite nerves chewing at her, she was determined to do this well. “Right.”
She remained at the door greeting guests for at least another hour. With the sound of each new car, she expected her mother, but she never came.
She fielded more questions than she wanted to about herself. I remember Jeff. Such a handsome man. How old would he be now? And Sydney, such a stunning girl. A perfect couple. You must miss him.
After a while, she found she could distance herself from the story, as if she were recounting another’s life. The wounds weren’t hers. The losses belonged to someone else. Later she imagined there’d be an emotional price to pay when it was quiet and the emotions rushed back over the barriers. But for now she was getting by and that was good enough.
The tasting room was all but filled by seven, the guests laughing and enjoying themselves. She could tell the wines were a hit, and judging by the caterer’s table, so was the food.
She slipped out the front door, needing to get away from subtle and not-so-subtle stares and whispers. She looks good. Reminds me of her brother more than ever. She was here the whole time? She must think of Jeffrey. Did you notice the scar on her arm? And those bracelets. I think they’re engraved with their names.
The heat, which still tipped the thermometer at ninety-nine, would allow only a quick respite, but a little break was better than none. The night air was fresh, not heavy, and the sky filled with stars. In the distance a coyote howled.
The crunch of tire against gravel had her turning toward a dusty, black SUV. A tall man with a white Stetson climbed out and she immediately recognized Ranger Winchester, Jo’s husband. Not Bragg. Relief rushed over her like a burst of cold air.
The Ranger settled his hat on his head and moved toward the tasting room with a quick impatient stride. She’d noticed the way he watched Jo, lean, hungry, impatient, as if he could barely keep his hands off his wife. He adored her.
She opened the door for him. “Welcome, Ranger Winchester.”
He glanced at her and grinned. “Ms. Templeton. Good evening. I’m guessing my better half has paved the way for me.”
His easy smile had her relaxing as she extended her hand. “She has sung your praises.”
He took her hand. “So I hear you’re the one throwing the party tonight.”
“I’m one of many players.” She glanced inside toward Jo who laughed with a young couple. “Your wife knows everyone.”
“That’s my Jo.” He glanced beyond her as if trying to glimpse his wife.
“I’ve seen her glancing toward the door. I think she’s been waiting for you. Glad you could make it.”
He winked. “She’s the only one slippery enough to rope me into one of these parties. No offense.”
“None taken.” He must be aware of Rory’s murder. The Rangers were a small, elite group. For a moment she stood tense, waiting for a question. When none came to breach the growing silence, she was tempted to ask him about Bragg, but quickly decided that could lead to trouble. “The food is worth the crowd.”
“Well, seeing as I never say no to food, I’ll dive into the hornet’s nest. Wish me luck.”
“Luck.” When he vanished into the building, she thought for a moment the evening would end without any great drama. She might walk away in one piece and sane.
The crunch of boots against gravel had her turning and wondering why she’d not heard another car drive up. She saw Bragg making his way up the drive straight toward her.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday, June 4, 8 P.M.
He stood tall, his white Stetson settled squarely on top of his head. He wore dark pants, a white shirt, a string tie, and black snakeskin boots. Whereas Winchester moved with impatience, Bragg’s stride radiated caution.
She rubbed suddenly damp palms together and then forced herself to relax. “Ranger Bragg, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Surprise, and then a hint of appreciation flickered from his gaze as he reconciled her voice with her appearance. She allowed pride and was glad to know she could still garner appreciation. There’d been a time when she’d lived to turn a man’s head. She’d spent hours primping and pampering. If this had been twelve years ago, she’d have considered herself severely underdressed.
He moved to within inches of her. Soap mingled with a masculine scent. “Ranger Winchester told me about it. I hear his wife was talking this party up.”
“I’m glad you could join us.”
He arched a brow. “Are you?”
“Of course.” Tempted to take a step back, she stood her ground. The scar on his face caught her attention before she wrestled it free. “We’ve a nice Merlot and a Chardonnay at the bar.”
If he sensed her nerves, he wasn’t inclined to ease them. “Afraid I’m more of a beer man.”
His tone was light and easy but the idea of relaxing around him was downright foolish. Even sleeping rattlers were dangerous snakes. “Tell the bartender. We’ve several local beers behind the bar as well.”
“A vineyard owner drinks beer?”
“We can be quite the beer drinkers.” She extended her arm toward the tasting room. She wanted to shoo him into the tasting room far away from her. “The food’s also delicious.”
Instead of leaving, he held his ground, but his gaze moved to the party. “You got a lot of fancy folks in there.”
“They dress up well, but they’re exactly like the rest of us.”
“First time you’ve seen a lot of these folks in a while?”
He’d been asking around about her. “That’s right.”
“How’s it going?”
“About as well as you could expect. I’m sure my ears will be burning for a week or two and then people will forget about me. I’m the flavor of the week.”
“I doubt they’ll forget you.” An edge sharpened his words.
Her heart beat faster. “You overestimate me.”
“Rory Edwards didn’t forget you.”
The statement hit her square in the chest like a one-two punch. “No, he did not. Have you found out what happened to Rory?”
“Still working on it. His brother didn’t have many nice words to say about you.”
“No, I don’t suppose David did.” The last time she’d spoken to David was when she’d shown up at Rory’s house. Her aunt had driven her there right after she’d left Shady Grove. David had answered the door. She couldn’t remember the entire conversation, but it ended along the lines of: they didn’t need her kind of trouble. “I was young and very upset the last time I spoke to him.”
“You made a hell of an impression on him.”
She refused to attach to the anger and frustration building in her. “If you are here to enjoy the party, then please do so. But if you’re here to dig up my past, I’m not going to play tonight. I’ve made a commitment to raise money for the Crisis Center and I won’t be effective if you reduce me to tears.”
His eyes sparked with humor. “You don’t look like you’re about to cry to me.”
“Don’t believe it.”
He shook his head. “You’re one tough gal, Ms. Templeton. I bet you do exactly what needs to be done no matter how tough the job.”
“That good or bad?”
“Suppose that depends on what job needs to be done.” He studied her a beat. And then as if rethinking his line of questioning, he said, “How’s Mitch doing?”
“Quiet. But a hard worker. I like the kid.”
“Why?”
She shook her head. “He’s patient and kind with the animals. Beauty is not an easy horse, but he keeps his cool no matter how difficult she can be.”
He rested his hand on his hip inches from his badge. “Tell me why you hired Mitch.”
Insistence underscored his words, and she had the sense he’d not take her standard line of making the world a better place. She shoved out a breath and opted for the pure truth. “He reminds me of myself.” And my brother.
“How so?”
“I know he served in Iraq and he saw some bad stuff. I know he lost friends. I also know the kind of pain that goes with losing someone you love. I thought I could give him a place to heal.”
“What makes you an expert?”
“In all honesty, I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. But sitting around and isolating himself is not doing him a bit of good. Working with the animals helped me. Spending hours in the vineyard pulling weeds and picking grapes gave me a focus. I thought it might help him.”
He glanced toward the empty corral. “My nephew is not a project to make you feel better about yourself.”
“No. No, he is a young man who needs time to heal.”
“And when he’s better, you’ll cut him loose?” Anger edged the words.
“He may cut me loose. He may wake up one morning and feel like his old self and take off. I have no idea what’s going to happen. Like I said, I don’t have a master plan.”
Bragg didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who had a family. She couldn’t imagine him living in a house with the white picket fence. “You must have been young when Mitch was born.”
“He’s my older sister’s boy. She was nineteen. I was fifteen.”
No elaboration. Mitch had said she’d died three years ago. Her death had left a hole in their lives. As much as Greer wanted to ask, she didn’t. Tec Bragg’s personal life was none of her business, even if it intrigued her. “Mitch is a good kid.”
“He is.” He settled his hands on his hips. “Keep an eye on him. And keep me posted on his progress. Let me know what he’s thinking.”
“We’ve been through this. I already addressed that.”
“Not to my satisfaction.”
She laughed. “Your way or the highway.”
“That’s right.”
She found herself waiting for a smile to soften the words and let her know he wasn’t that black and white. None came. “I can only do what I think is best for Mitch. If he confides in me, I’m not going to go running to you with the information.”
Frown lines deepened. “He’s my family.”
“He’s a man.”
“I know that.” Annoyance flashed. “He had another dream last night.”
“That explains the bruise on your chin.”
“Kid’s got a punch like a jackhammer.”
She shook her head. “The best we can do is give him the opportunity to work through and find his way out of it.”
“We. Good. Then we’re a team.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did.”
The door to the tasting room opened and the sounds of conversations and laughter trickled out. “I need to go.”
He frowned but simply nodded. Unsure of what else to say to him, she returned to her party, surprised she was happy to reenter the lion’s den if it meant getting away from Ranger Bragg.
Bragg watched Greer disappear back into her party. He didn’t need a guest list to know the people inside were the Who’s Who of Austin society. And though Greer had been born into that world, he recognized she didn’t fit there anymore. She smiled. She moved from couple to couple chatting. She filled wineglasses. But she was the outsider. People stared at her oddly when she walked away. They talked about her.
Twelve years had passed since the accident and her suicide attempt, and yet she remained cut off from her old life. Though he sensed the society crowd could be judgmental and hard, he also realized Greer was as much a party to her isolation as anyone. She’d built a wall around herself: always polite, guarded, and distant.
Greer punished herself with her self-imposed isolation. She hadn’t rejoined the world, choosing purgatory instead.
She’d maintained a distance with him, but that didn’t really surprise him. Most folks didn’t cozy up to Rangers right away, and publicity surrounding his work on the border had changed how people viewed him. Leeriness now simmered under the respect. Some folks were flat-out afraid of him.
Mitch wasn’t afraid nor were the Rangers, but most everyone else kept their distance. Greer met his gaze directly, no hint of fear. If she’d heard about his past, she gave no sign it bothered her. She noticed the scar as well, but didn’t appear put off by it. And he was oddly glad.
Curious, he moved inside and stood in the back of the tasting room. His gaze scanned the room quickly and then settled on Greer. A stunning dark dress hugged her figure just right. Her hair glistened in the soft light. But if he had to choose, he preferred her in her jeans, T-shirt, and hair in a thick braid.
She now stood at the front of the room next to a tall slim man who wore an expensive suit, white shirt, but no tie. Blond hair swept off a face of chiseled features and smooth skin. Appreciation glistened in the man’s eyes as he stared at Greer.
Bragg shifted his stance, annoyance snapping at his heels.
Greer rang a bell and soon the hum of conversation in the room faded. She clenched and unclenched her fingers and then offered a big bright smile. To the casual eye, her smile was radiant but there were subtle cues indicating the opposite. A stiff back, raised chin, and a slight quiver in the corner of her mouth told him the smile was a lovely front.
But judging by the attentive expressions around the room, he wondered if anyone peered beyond the smile.
“Welcome to Bonneville Vineyard’s first annual fund-raiser for Austin’s Crisis Center. Our vineyard has been here for over twenty years and though we don’t make our own wine, we hope to by this time next year. Tonight, I want to introduce you to Philip Louis, who is supplying tonight’s wine from Sun Valley Vineyard in Fredericksburg.” She grinned at Louis. He smiled back at her, his gaze hungry and excited. “Bonneville supplied the grapes to Mr. Louis who, at his winery in Fredericksburg, turned them into several lovely wines.”
“Greer.” Louis’s voice was smooth, even, and deep. His smile was quick and easy. “Thank you for having Sun Valley Vineyard here tonight. It’s a great honor to introduce our wines to such a sophisticated audience.”
People in the crowd responded well to the compliment. Louis coaxed people to follow like a damned pied piper.
Bragg shifted his attention to Greer, curious about her reaction to Louis. She didn’t shy away from him nor did she lean toward him. Her smile was genuine but not flirty. She liked Louis, but he suspected she saw him as a colleague and not a potential lover. Good.
“The winemaker and the wine grower must have a close relationship,” Greer said.
“But great wine begins on the vine,” Louis added. “If not for Greer’s talent for reading the soil, air, and water, I would not have such stunning grapes to put into my winery. We will be sorry to lose Bonneville grapes next season but anticipate tasting their wine. And now that we are neighbors, we hope to grow grapes as rich and succulent.”
An older woman dressed in a sapphire-blue dress raised her hand. “Greer, the soil here looks awful. Why on earth choose such a rocky, hot place as Bonneville?”
