The windows were tinted, but suddenly he knew, with a certainty as dead as his vines, who was in that car. Olivier. His half brother, whose impeccable timing proved, once again, that he had worked out a deal with the devil.
How messed up was it that the first thing Luc wanted to do was cry? He turned away, choking back the tears from where they stabbed his sinuses and clogged his throat. Christ, when had he last cried? Ever? Not when his father orGrandpèredied, or when he’d cut off that stupid finger. Not even last night, as he’d watched his vines burn. No, it took his brother showing up, out of the blue—at exactly this moment—for him to almost shed a tear.
Olivier got out of the car, took off his glasses, and took in the vineyard—not theatrically, the way their mother would have done, but nonchalantly. As if he saw shit like this every day.
And as if he saw Luc every day, Olivier came to stand beside him without a word, looking for all the world like the landowner, the winemaker he was supposed to be. Unlike Luc, who’d always been a peasant.
“Must have some amazing insurance” was all Olivier said.
Luc, expecting a question, an insult—somejudgment—surprised himself by laughing. “Insurance?Ohputain,mon vieux. You have no idea.”
“You have some kind of blight? Something you had to burn out?” He raised a brow at Luc.
That sounded about right, didn’t it? Luc wasn’t sure what would happen to his closest neighbors, but he was fairly sure the blight would leave him alone from here on. Too late, of course.
“Hein?” Olivier prompted.
“Not exactly. Neighbors burned me out.”
With some satisfaction, Luc watched shock transform his brother’s features.
“Someone did this to you? On purpose?”
Luc nodded.
“Jesus. I’ll bet it was your winning personality.” They stood in silence for a minute. “Nice view. I can see why you picked it.”
“Wasn’t the view.”
“Oh?”
Luc indicated the boulders lurking just above and to the side of them. “Granite.”
Olivier’s brows were still up, still confused.
Luc shook his head. “Did you ever listen to a damn thingGrandpèresaid? About growing grapes?”
“No. Why should I when we had you for that?”
“You’re such an asshole.”
Olivier smiled. “Yes. Well, the asshole’s here to beg.” He paused, eyes on Luc, looking less confident than he ever had. “We need you. Please come back. Your rules.”
Luc searched inside himself for some sort of elation or excitement or something victorious. He came up with nothing.
Still, though. Look at this place. Nothing but devastation. Was the universe telling him something? For once, maybe Luc Stanek should listen.
His thoughts flew to Abby, being made to tell her story again, down there with the deputy. Maybe it would be best if he left. For both of them. She’d be better off without him and his special brand of fucked up.
You couldn’t ask for a fresher start. For either of them.
“Tell me more,” Luc said, leading his brother into the barn to show him the dregs of his American life.
* * *
Abby was exhausted by the time she made it up to the barn, where Luc was talking to a man—handsome, like Luc, but without the rough edges. In fact… She squinted at them and saw the resemblance. It was in the strong line of their noses, the sharp cut of their cheekbones, but where Luc’s face was wide, his brother’s was long and thin, bony and elegant.
“Abby, this is my brother, Olivier.”
