The Sparkling One

beautiful.

For the first time in several weeks, she felt as if she could breathe. As if she, like the vines, was coming back to life.

Carefully, so as not to accidentally kick a plant, she bent down and examined the fastenings that held the vine in place. She touched the small tubing that provided life-giving water. Her fingers curled into her palms as she ached for all she’d missed these years. All she’d lost. All Jeff had taken away.

She knew that in time she would accept his leaving, her stupidity, and the other woman. But she would never, ever forgive him for wanting to lay claim to the land, the vines and the dream she’d given up for him. Rage didn’t describe what she felt, nor did fury. She didn’t just want Jeff to back off, she wanted him destroyed. Any thoughts she’d had about being reasonable had ended the second he’d threatened Marcelli Wines.

She straightened and raised her face to the rain. Cool drops trickled down her face like tears. Yet this moisture healed. It brought life-to the vines and to her.

She’d given herself heart, body, and soul to her husband and in the end he’d had no use for the gifts. Obviously her body was hers once again, and while she had no need for her heart-love was not going to be in her future, ever-she desperately had to find her soul if she was ever to reclaim the person she used to be.

“You’re a Marcelli to your bones. You always come back to the vines.”

She turned toward the familiar voice and saw Grandpa Lorenzo walking toward her. He wore a heavy jacket and a cap on his white hair. Sometime while she hadn’t been paying attention, he’d become an old man. Time had bent his back and gnarled his hands. Still, when he stood close to her, she felt safe, just as she had when she’d been a little girl.

“You’re right about the vines,” she said, staring out at them. “I can’t escape them.”

“Not even when you try. I heard about your husband. That he tried to claim some of this for himself. That will never happen. This is only for family.”

“I know, Grandpa.” His words made her feel guilty, as if Jeff’s greedy grasping were her fault. “I should never have married him.”

“No. We all thought he was a different kind of man.”

Brenna wasn’t so sure anyone had thought anything except relief that she had married right on schedule. Even at eighteen she’d felt the pressure to marry young and produce a son. She thought of how the current circumstances would have affected a child.

“At least we were smart enough not to have babies,” she said. “Better that they not go through this. Plus Jeff would have been tied to the family forever.”

She expected a word of agreement, but instead Grandpa Lorenzo sighed heavily. “I would have forgiven many sins for a grandson.”

Anger flared inside of her. “You need to get over your gender bias, Grandpa. It’s the new millennium. Women are just as capable as men, and they’re finally getting a chance to prove it.”

The old man looked at her. “They may be capable, but are they as loyal? You left. You went away and the vines were forgotten.”

“That’s not fair,” she protested. “You wanted me to get married. All my life I’d been told my duty was to have a husband and a family. I did what I was supposed to do, and now you’re blaming me for leaving?”

He ignored the question. “What are you going to do now?” Grandpa Lorenzo asked.

“Get a job.” She turned to him. “I want to work here.”

He nodded. “I think there’s an opening in the gift shop.”

She stepped back as if he’d slapped her. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away. He would be expecting weakness. She had to be strong to prove herself.

“Except for you, no one knows more about the vines than I do,” she said.

“You knew. Nine years ago. What do you remember?”

She thought about her years in an office job she hated, and how at night, when she wasn’t at her second job, she’d studied. She’d used money they’d needed for things like food to buy textbooks from the UC Davis Viticulture and Enology Department. She’d continued her education, even when Jeff had fumed at her, not understanding why it was so important to her.

“I remember everything,” she told him.

Her grandfather looked at her. “What’s to keep you from running off with the next man who asks?”

The unfairness of the question fueled her temper. He wanted it both ways-great-grandsons and a promise never to leave.

“Let’s just say I’ve learned my lesson,” she told him. “I’m not interested in being stupid a second time.”

He studied her, staring into her eyes for several seconds before turning away. “There might be something. Come into my office in the morning and we’ll talk.”

She nodded without speaking because her throat had tightened and she didn’t think she could form words. When he left, she stayed where she was, raising her face to the light rain, letting the cool drops wash away her tears.

Finally, when the cold seeped into her bones, she forced herself to head back to the house. As she turned in that direction, she caught sight of a distant hillside, also covered with dormant vines. But this land wasn’t part of the Marcelli legacy. Instead it belonged to Wild Sea Vineyards.

Marcelli wines had an excellent reputation for quality. They consistently received high scores and won medals. But Wild Sea Vineyards was an international success that dwarfed its neighbor. The two wineries had been founded together, by best friends as close as brothers. Until sixty years before, when there had been a falling out between the Marcelli and Giovanni family.

Wild Sea had grown big enough to dominate the valley. One by one small family wineries faded into bankruptcy or were swallowed up by larger labels-not just here, but in Napa and Sonoma. The days of the “gentleman vintner” were numbered.

Did her grandfather know? Had he recognized the changes coming?

She told herself that in time they would speak of it. Or she would talk, he would listen, then they would argue. It had always been that way with her grandfather.

Brenna walked toward the hacienda. She and her sisters had never paid attention to the feud, which, sixty years after it happened, still influenced Lorenzo Marcelli’s every action. They’d listened to the grown-ups talk and had rolled their eyes. But her grandparents had taken it seriously, as had her parents. So when she’d turned sixteen and had fallen in love with Nicholas Giovanni, she hadn’t told a soul.

A lifetime ago, she reminded herself. Back when she had been young and idealistic, and had thought that love would last forever.

Zach made notes on the file in front of him, but it was difficult to concentrate with the beat of loud music swirling around him. He glanced at the ceiling, toward David’s bedroom. His son was home for a few days, recovering from finals, and he’d invited a few friends over to help him celebrate temporary freedom. While Zach enjoyed having his son around, even for a short time, the teenagers and their loud music made him feel old.

He glanced at his watch, then at the phone. He hadn’t seen Katie or spoken with her since she’d disappeared from his bed three mornings before.

Sneaking out before dawn was usually his job, he thought ruefully. As a rule, he preferred to be the guest rather than host so he could end the date when he was ready. That hadn’t happened with Katie, and when he’d awakened to find her side of the bed cold and not a trace of her in the house, he’d had a moment of compassion for all the women he’d treated in the same way.

“Payback’s a bitch,” he murmured.

He knew she’d enjoyed their time in bed, as had he. He guessed the physical connection had left her as rattled as it had left him. So they both needed time to regroup. Not a problem. He could wait her out.

But the cool confidence of his thoughts didn’t keep him from glancing back at the phone and wondering why the hell she hadn’t called him.

He returned his attention to his notes. He was involved in a particularly tricky case between a software multimillionaire and his high-school sweetheart turned soon-to-be ex-wife. This time he represented the husband who had found out that the love of his life hadn’t just been screwing the pool boy. She’d also had a torrid affair with