“Come and have a glass of wine,” he said over his shoulder. “You are old enough now, right?”
Ooh, nice jab.
“Wait, you’re just going to ignore my question?”
This time, he didn’t break stride.
“Ask me again on Sunday evening.”
CHAPTER 15
NOLAN
“Uh, that’s an interesting outfit.” Nolan’s eyes widened slightly as Marielle climbed into his truck wearing a red lace-up corset, a ruffle skirt, fishnets, and high-heeled boots. “Am I underdressed?”
“Oh, not at all,” she assured him. “All the men will be wearing jeans and cowboy boots.”
“And the women will be wearing…those kinds of clothes?”
“Antonella thought it would be fun to dress up.”
Really? Antonella Cranston always seemed to take herself way too seriously, and on the rare occasions Nolan had seen her off a horse, she’d been wearing designer jeans and a dress shirt. He couldn’t imagine her in Wild West brothel garb.
Still, not his problem. After a hellish day spent fixing a jam in the destemming machine—a gasket had sheared clean through, and he’d had to drive to Sacramento to pick up a replacement—he hadn’t even wanted to come tonight. But he needed to keep the Cranstons onside, especially if shit kept going south at the current rate. After the Lisanne issue last year, Everett Cranston had offered to buy a stretch of land at the southern end of the Dionysus Estate, not part of the vineyard itself but a large, sweeping pasture and a forested area that blanketed the hillside to the east. Antonella liked to ride on the trails that crisscrossed through the trees, and Everett said that long-term, they could always use more grazing land as they expanded their horse-breeding operation. He’d offered a reasonable price, said there was no time limit, but if Nolan ever decided to sell, he wanted first refusal.
Right now, Nolan was holding on because he could also use that land to expand in the future. Plant a different variety of grapes, extend his olive grove, build more guest accommodation. And somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he’d always wondered whether, if he had a kid, would they want a horse of their own?
Then there were the memories… Walking up the hill with his grandpa, following the stream that meandered through the trees, searching the crystal-clear waters for fish or flecks of gold that had escaped the California Gold Rush. Learning about the wildlife, collecting weird-shaped rocks, picnicking in the clearing at the top of the slope. So many of Nolan’s childhood memories were tainted now, ruined by what his father had done. But he still believed his grandpa had been a good man.
And he didn’t want to sell off the landscape that underpinned those memories if he could avoid it.
The drive to the Cranston property didn’t take long, and when they walked around the back of the house, Nolan saw he’d been half wrong. Marielle wasn’t the only person wearing ruffles. No, Betsy Priner was sporting a saloon girl outfit too, but Betsy had been dressing that way day in, day out for the past seventy years, and she wasn’t going to change now. And the Dempsey twins were in frilly skirts, both looking shy but cute as buttons, which was only to be expected, seeing as they were four years old. As for Antonella, she was also wearing a dress, but a sleek, expensive-looking blue one teamed with a necklace that was probably made from real sapphires. Her eyes saucered as she approached.
“Marielle, you look, uh, fabulous.”
“Why, thank you. I thought a few more people might have made the effort.”
“The most important thing is for everyone to be comfortable with what they’re wearing. Can I get you folks a drink? We have cocktails, beer, a selection of Nolan’s lovely wine, and soda, of course.”
“I’d love a cocktail, and Nolan will have a beer.”
“A soda,” he corrected. “I’m driving.”
“One cocktail, one soda. There are appetisers under the pergola, and the rest of the food will be ready soon, if Everett stops talking long enough to put the steaks on the grill.”
“Could I trouble you for some chicken wings?” Marielle asked. “No spices.”
Antonella half rolled her eyes and caught herself. “Let me see what we can do.”
As she moved off, Marielle pursed her lips. “I can’t believe she’s wearing such a boring dress. It was her idea to have a themed party.”
“It was?”
“She sent an email last week, and hardly anyone seems to have read it.”
“An email?” Nolan repeated.
“Yes, an email. I’m beginning to think she doesn’t like me. First, she bought all those cushions from a boutique in LA, and now this?”
