A Fine Year for Love

Louisa had been with Liz for over a year now, living in the apartment attached to the tasting room and obviously thriving in her life at Crenshaw Vineyards. Knowing Louisa had no friends in America, Liz made certain to include her in as many activities with her own friends as she could.

Still, Louisa appeared happiest when making wine and strolling among the grapes.

Liz believed their hearts were so much alike, they could have been sisters.

Liz entered the barn and walked among the stainless steel tanks, which would be filled to capacity during the grape harvest.

“Louisa! Are you here?” Liz shouted.

“Oui,” Louisa yelled from a distance, the hard heels of her leather boots thumping on the cement.

Louisa was of medium height, but her slight frame and taut muscles made her look like a couture model. She walked toward Liz with a practiced woman’s gait, the soft cotton fabric of her spring dress billowing around the tops of her boots and creating an ethereal effect.

“How was the tasting room this afternoon?” Liz asked. “Busy?”

“Very. I only came over here to find you,” Louisa said. “Where were you?”

“On the hill. You could have called if you needed me.”

“I did. Your phone...it’s not working.”

“Sure it is,” Liz replied, pulling it out of her pocket. “Oops. It was off.”

Louisa frowned. “I was going to tell you about the man. He wants you.”

“What man?”

“I don’t know his name,” Louisa replied, shaking her head. “He’s too beautiful. I don’t trust him.”

“Gabriel.”

“You know him?” Louisa asked, surprise illuminating her face.

“A little bit.” She shook her head. “His brother is going to marry Maddie Strong.”

“That was Nate’s brother?” Louisa asked. “Why does he want you?”

Liz bristled involuntarily in response to Louisa’s words. “If only I knew,” she said with exasperation. She didn’t realize she’d clenched her fists. Gabe didn’t want her personally. But he absolutely wanted something. She just had to figure out what she had in common with the thing it was he wanted.

“Ah. He stirs your blood. Makes you angry,” Louisa observed, peering with critical eyes at her boss.

“I just don’t trust him,” Liz replied uneasily.

Tires crunched on the gravel outside. “More tourists.” Liz smiled broadly, glad to have the conversation diverted from Gabriel Barzonni. “This is shaping up to be a good day for us.”

“Oui,” Louisa said as they walked out of the barn and into the bright sunlight.

Three cars had driven up nearly at the same time. One was an SUV with an Illinois license plate and two couples inside. The couples had just entered the tasting room. A sports car with a handsome pair in their mid-sixties pulled up beside a black Porsche convertible.

Liz stared disbelievingly at the shiny black car that looked as if it had just been detailed and polished.

Starched and pressed. Just like the owner.

“Gabe—” Liz breathed out his name with an undercurrent of frustration.

“Looks like he’s back,” Louisa said with a taunting grin, already walking away from Liz toward the tasting room. “I’m off to see to those guests. À tout à l’heure!”

“See you later,” Liz said, gazing past Louisa at the cluster of tourists. Gabe wasn’t among them.

Immediately suspecting him of going back to her vines, she spun around, her eyes tracking from one end of the vineyard to the other. He hadn’t had enough time to go very far.

She hurried around the corner of the tasting room and glanced up at the big white farmhouse with its wraparound porch. Climbing the three front steps to the beveled glass Victorian door was Gabe, a bouquet of flowers in his right hand.

“I’m not up there,” Liz shouted.

Gabe turned around as Liz marched forward.

“Hi,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “You’re not armed this time, are you? Concealed .38? Maybe a poison dart in your clog?”

“Very funny,” she growled, gesturing at the flowers. “Those for my compost pile?”

“Uh, sure. You can do whatever you want with them.”

“Hmm.” She eyed the flowers and the cellophane sleeve around them. It still had the price tag on it. “Get those at the grocery store, did you?”

“Actually, yes. That’s where the closest florist was,” he said weakly. He thrust the flowers at her. “Please accept my apology.”

“Why don’t you just tell me the truth, Gabe. I won’t bite.”

“Ha! You’re just saying that because you aren’t toting—at the moment.”

“No, Gabe. I do want the truth,” she replied earnestly, taking the bouquet.

“I did tell you the truth. I needed some soil samples from your vineyard. I heard you were going to try to make real champagne out here. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think we had the soil for that.”

“How did you hear that?” she asked, trailing off as she realized the answer. “From Nate?”

“Yeah. Don’t be mad at Maddie—she just let it slip. Nate swore me to secrecy. I haven’t told a soul.” He crossed his heart.

Liz shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip. “But that information intrigued you so much you snuck out here on a Saturday when you knew no one would be in the vineyard. And then you tried to take my dirt. Why?”

“I’m insatiably curious. I’ve studied pedology and agricultural soil science since college. I’m fascinated when a new pioneer hits the scene. Like you.”

“A pioneer? Some would call me a fool.” She snorted derisively.

“Not me. I think you may be the real genius.”

Liz drew in a breath and paused. She stared at him for a long moment. Louisa was right. He was really handsome, and it was her bet those good looks had gotten him out of many tight spots. She frowned. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, Gabe. I’m not buying it. There’s more here than your curiosity over what could have been idle gossip.”