I told myself I didn't care about the disapproving look she shot me before she left the room. She had lied to me as well. The only reason I didn't kick her out of my house was because this had been her home longer than it'd been mine. But she'd be forced to leave soon enough—once I could no longer afford baking ingredients. Or once I got arrested for assaulting Cooper Stratton. I groaned, running my hands through my hair, the mess of my life coming back into sharp focus.
"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. Neither could I, and yet, apparently, fate had other plans for me.
I downed the two pills Charlotte had 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 went and 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? Tortured by my own thoughts, I went to get the second bottle of Scotch. I'd drink so much I'd pickle my brain and kill all the brain cells that held memory of her.
Charlotte was in the living room, folding the blanket I'd half slept under the night before. Glancing out the window, I 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's only misery to be found here—misery, lies, and bad memories."
"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 of course, he has trouble seeing well now, too. I hope he's plucking the right grapes . . ." I halted, rolling my eyes.
"Walter's the picture of health," I said.
She shrugged. "I didn't mean to disturb you. You go right back to drinking yourself into oblivion. Maybe give the men a little wave now and again if you think about it. 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," I mumbled, "it's not even that hot." I was fully aware she was attempting to guilt-trip me. The truth was, 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 was 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.
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 were 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? Precious little. The business degree I'd earned long ago in college was a waste now. Plus, no one wanted to hire a felon. Misery threatened. The thoughts that had taken a backseat 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. Pulling 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.