Tangled Vines (45 page)

Within minutes the police arrived and Claude was taken into custody. As soon as his statement was taken, Sam went looking for Kelly, determined that if he couldn't convince her to change her mind about going to see her father and personally arranging for his release, then he was going with her. He wasn't going to let her go through it alone.

But he was too late. She'd already left.

Sam reached the Jeep as the police car drove away with Claude in the backseat. Katherine and Gil stood next to the Jeep, both staring after the departing cruiser. Neither seemed to notice Sam when he walked up.

Gil's expression was still faintly dazed, confused. “It was old Claude,” he murmured as if he needed to say it to believe it. “All along I thought Clay -” He clamped his mouth shut on the rest of it.

“We are a pair, Gil.” Katherine gave him a wise and sad look. “I thought it was you. I thought I saw you there.”

His mouth curved without humor. “You did. I came to warn Clay that Emile had followed him. I cut through the woods to find Clay, before Emile did and got lost. When I finally made it here, there you were...beside Emile's body.”

Gil shook his head, remembering that when he had caught up with Clay, he had said only, “Emile is dead.” Clay had gone white with shock, and he had assumed his son's guilt from that, without asking any further questions. He almost laughed when he realized Clay had probably thought he had killed him.

Sobering, he glanced at Katherine again, his eyes narrowing in veiled suspicion. “If you thought you saw me, why didn't you mention it to the police?”

“Why did you fail to tell them about Clay?”

“He's my son.”

“Exactly.”

Uncertainty flickered through his expression. After a moment, he nodded to her, a hint of a smile about his lips. Then he turned and walked off, automatically taking the old bridle path back to his car.

Turning, Katherine glanced at Sam, age and a weariness of heart pulling at her. “Take me back to the house, Sam.”

Silently he helped her into the passenger seat, then walked around the Jeep and slid behind the wheel. The key was in the ignition but Sam didn't reach for it. Instead he turned to study her.

“You thought Gil killed the baron, yet you never told the police. Why, Katherine?”

“I thought I'd imagined Gil there that night,” she began, then stopped and sighed. “No, that is a lie. I wanted it to be my imagination. Just as I wanted it to be Dougherty who had killed Emile. Not my son.”

“Your son hated you – and probably still does. There has been a cold war between the two of you for as long as I can remember. Why protect him, Katherine?”

“If you had children, you would not ask that question.

“That's your reason. Do you think he would show the same loyalty to you?”

“Possibly not.” She dismissed the importance of that with a lift of her hand. “It hardly matters, though, does it?” Through a break in the trees a vineyard became visible. “I understand the grapes are drying nicely. It would seem the helicopters served their purpose.”

“I don't think there's any question that they did.”

“I have been blind to a great deal lately...Sam.” She paused deliberately before stressing his name. “Age, I suspect. In any case, it is time I stepped down. From now on Rutledge Estate is in your charge.”

He glanced sideways at her, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “You can't let go, Katherine. You don't know how.”

“I may surprise you. After all, Claude will require a great deal of my time and attention over these next weeks and months,” she stated.

Of course she would stand by old Claude; he should have realized that. Right or wrong, Katherine would be at his side. Just as he should have been there for Kelly. He had been wrong, and all the best intentions in the world couldn't change that. How could he explain that to her? How could he make her understand?

It was late afternoon when Kelly pulled up in front of her old house. The weeds had been cut down all around and all the junk had been hauled away. Anything usable was stacked by the old shed. New boards replaced the rotted ones on the front step. They were minor things that did little to improve the looks of the house, but she noticed them all as she stepped out of the car.

The passenger door was slammed shut. “Would you look at that?” her father demanded and waved a hand at the vineyard. “Ruined, the whole damned crop is probably ruined, every cluster full of mold. If it hadn't been for those damned Rutledges trying to pin that murder on me, I could have had those grapes picked before it ever started raining. Now I'll be lucky to get anything.”

Ignoring his tirade, Kelly reached in the backseat and lifted out the grocery sack. “Here.”

He looked at the sack, then at her. “Aren't you coming in?”

“No.”

“But I thought that's why we stopped at the store.” He took the sack from her, frowning. “I thought we were coming back here to have dinner and celebrate my release.”

Celebrate. The all-too-familiar sound of that word acted as a flash point to her temper. “With what? A bottle of whiskey?” Kelly challenged hotly. “You are a free man. It's the perfect excuse to get roaring drunk, isn't it? It so happens that I'm free, too. Free of you and your drinking.”

Indignant and angry, he protested. “I said dinner. I never said anything about drinking.”

“No, you didn't. But it really doesn't matter because I don't care whether you get drunk or not. Nothing you do can ever hurt me again.” Remembering that, Kelly stopped before this escalated into a full-blown argument. She reached inside her shoulder purse and took out a business card, handing it to him. “MacSwayne wanted me to give you this,” she said stiffly.

“What is it?” Still frowning in irritation, he tried to read it over the top of the grocery sack.

“It's a name and phone number for the local chapter of AA.”

“What are you giving me this for? I'm no alcoholic.”

“But you are,” Kelly insisted, anger vibrating beneath the surface of her voice. “Why don't you stop lying to yourself and admit it? Maybe they can help you. I can't.” She swung away and climbed back in the car.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm not sure. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” Kelly closed the door and started the engine. When she drove out of the yard, her father was still standing there.

Tense and tired, her head aching, Kelly drove back to Rutledge Estate. She saw the Jeep parked in front of the house and mentally braced herself for another round with Sam, vowing it would be the last round.

He opened the front door before she ever reached it. “You're back.”

“Yes.”

“Did they release your father?”

“Finally.” Kelly brushed past him into the hall. “And no, he didn't thank me, if that's what you're waiting to hear,” she said over her shoulder as she crossed to the marble staircase.

“No, that isn't what I want to hear. That isn't even what I want to talk about.” He came after her.

Kelly ran quickly up the steps. “Everything has already been said.”

“Dammit, you're not making this easy.”

“That's too bad. But why should I make it easy for you? Nothing has ever been easy for me. Face it, Sam. I'm not the kind of person you want me to be, and that's that.”

In her room, Kelly went straight to the closet and dragged out her suitcase.

Sam caught her arm, stopping her. “Will you listen to me for one minute?”

“I have listened to you,” she shot back, needing the anger to protect her from the hurt. “All my life I have listened to someone. From now on, I'm going to listen to myself.”

“The way I should have listened to you all along.”

Halted more by the soft pitch of his voice than the restraining hand on her arm, Kelly looked at him warily.

“What do you mean?”

His grip loosened, his eyes gentling on her, regret shadowing them. “Those things I said about your father – I know how much he's hurt you in the past, and I don't mean just the physical abuse. I didn't want you to get hurt again. I was trying to protect you.”

“You can't protect people from things like that.”

“No, you can't.” He paused and seemed to grope for the right words. “Kelly, I don't know much about families. I was never close to my parents. I taught myself not to care because it was easier.”

“If you don't care, you don't get hurt.” Kelly remembered Sam telling her that.

“Maybe that's not the right attitude. Maybe you shouldn't give back everything you get, especially when what you get is nothing. Maybe sometimes you have to do things just because you believe they are the right things to do.”

“Maybe.” She was afraid to read too much into what he was saying.

“Kelly, I'm not perfect.”

She moved away, out of his reach. If she didn't, she knew she would touch him. “None of us are.” She laid her suitcase on the bed and opened it.

“Where are you going? Back to New York?”

“In a day or two, yes.” Kelly nodded. “That's where my work is.” She crossed to the closet and removed the clothes that were on hangers. “I spoke with Hugh while I was in MacSwayne's office waiting for my father to be released. His innocence has gone a long way to salvaging my credibility and my career.” She carried them back to the bed. “Enough that the network feels an aggressive PR campaign will take care of the rest.”

“I'm glad.” His voice sounded closer. “I know how much your job means to you.”

She had thought it meant everything, Kelly remembered as she laid her clothes on the bed next to the suitcase. But she had learned a few things about herself in the last days. Once she had believed a career was all she needed to feel fulfilled. It wasn't enough. As much as she loved her work, she wanted a husband, children, a home – a family. She knew that now.

Kelly took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You may as well know that I will be paying off the note my father owes you. MacSwayne is drawing up an agreement for my father to sign tomorrow.” She took a blouse off its hanger and began to fold it. “Assuming he stays sober, of course. I'm going to lease the vineyard from him, hire some workers to get it back in shape this winter and take care of it next year. Properly tended, it should produce a good income and provide a more than adequate return on my investment.”

“Then you will be coming back.” Sam stood directly behind her.

“Probably every weekend.” Kelly knew what he was thinking, and wouldn't let herself even consider it. Instead she concentrated on laying the folded blouse neatly and precisely in the bottom of the suitcase, then picked up a skirt. “I thought I could catch the red-eye flight out on Friday, have Saturday to check on the vine yard and handle any business related to it, then fly back on Sunday to New York, or wherever we're taping the show.”

“I want to see you when you're back, Kelly.”

She felt the sting of tears and closed her eyes against it. “I'll be on a tight schedule. I doubt if I'll have time.”

“Make time. That's what I will have to do, especially now that Katherine is stepping down and I'll be taking over the winery.” Sam was impatient with her. It was in his voice.

But Kelly deliberately focused on the content of his statement. “Katherine is retiring?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations.”

“Don't change the subject.” His hand seized her arm and turned her around, forcing Kelly to meet his probing gaze. “I told you once that when you started making plans for your life, you had better make room for me in them. I meant it, Kelly.”

“I know, but I don't think it would be wise for us to see each other for a while. Maybe not for a long while.

She tried, but she couldn't keep the ache out of her voice. He couldn't possibly know how hard it was for her to say that, how hard it was to ignore the warm weight of his hands on her arms, and to see the pained look of confusion in his eyes. “Don't you see, Sam? Too much has happened. There are still too many things I need to sort out. About myself, I guess. I have the name of a support group in New York that's made up of people with alcoholic parents. I think they might be able to help me understand some of my feelings – some of my anger. Maybe I'll even be able to forgive my father someday for all he's done to me.”

“What does that have to do with us? With seeing me?”

“Everything,” she insisted, then attempted to explain. “I need to learn to trust again. I've been hurt so often that it's going to take time. And no relationship can exist and grow without trust. Try to understand that.”

“Understand?” His smile was warm and totally unexpected. “You're talking to a vintner, Kelly. I know all about grafting a vine shoot to a rootstock. There is never any way to be certain in advance that the pairing will take. It has to be tended, watered, nourished, and even then, there are no guarantees it will flourish. But that's all I'm asking for – that knowing and growing time for us. Will you give us that, Kelly? The time together to find out if we can make it work?”

She looked at him for a long, hesitant moment, then smiled, a radiance spreading across her face. “Yes,” she said, realizing she wanted that as much as he did.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 1992 by Janet Dailey

ISBN 978-1-4976-2649-2

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com