Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Then why do you read like someone packing for a vacation and planning to come back home?”
“Because you’re looking for one thing and not seeing what’s really going on.”
“Which is what?”
“I just don’t feel connected to anything here. Only my studio.”
“You bought this house. You designed it.”
“Because I needed something of my own.”
“And now you’re accepting something that’s mine.”
“No. It’s not like that. I don’t want your place to look like mine.”
“It’s not my place anymore. It’s ours, and I’ve never wanted to share my home with anyone, and I have zero hesitation in this. I need to know you feel the same.”
His cell phone rings, and he draws in a breath, then breathes out. “Why do our phones ring at the worst possible times?” And when I would expect him to ignore the call, he doesn’t, which tells me he’s the one shutting down now, withdrawing.
“Nick,” I say, but he’s already looking at his caller ID with a frown.
“Rita. This is an odd time for her to call.” He answers the line. “Rita?” He listens a moment. “Kasey?” he asks, and after a pause: “Right. She’s standing right here. She’ll call him.” He ends the connection and offers me his phone. “Call him. There’s a problem.”
“I guess I don’t know where my phone is,” I say, punching in Kasey’s number, and the moment it rings, he answers.
“Faith?” Kasey asks.
“Yes. Sorry. I was—”
“We have several busted water lines in the west vineyard. It’s bad. I’m trying to get someone out here, but I’m struggling at this hour.”
“How bad is bad?”
“It’s flowing from numerous locations, and flowing isn’t even an appropriate description. Gushing is more like it. If we don’t get someone out here soon, it’s a total loss.”
My stomach knots. “We’ll be right there.”
“Faith, I don’t know if we can save it even if we get someone out here,” he adds, pretty much repeating what he’s just said but obviously trying to prepare me for what he feels is the inevitable: we’ve already lost the west side.
“Do what you can,” I say, ending the call. “We need to go there. There are several broken—”
“I heard,” Nick says. “Grab your purse and phone. We’ll go now.”
I head into the bathroom, grab my purse, and hunt for my phone, which I can’t find. Frustrated, I shout, “I can’t find my phone!” and Nick appears in the bathroom, holding it. “Oh, thank God,” I breathe out, racing toward him and grabbing it. “This is bad, Nick. He can’t get anyone out there.”
“You drive,” he says, handing me the car keys. “Let me make some calls.”
“Thank you,” I say, nodding, and it’s less than a minute later when we’re in the car and he’s already on the phone. “Rita. Be a superwoman right now. We have several broken water lines in the west vineyard. Pay whatever you have to to get help out there now.” There is a pause. “I should have known. Yes. Call me.” He ends the call and glances over at me. “She already knew and is already looking. And the woman is magic. She’ll get us help.” He’s already dialing again. “Beck,” he says. “Do you know what’s happening?” He listens for a few beats. “Right. I’ll find out if it’s intentional once we’re there, but get fucking cameras on the vines. I want every inch of the property covered.” He doesn’t wait for a reply. He hangs up.
That knot in my stomach doubles in size. “You think this is payback for us winning in court.”
“I’d bet my bank account on it, sweetheart. Beck has the cameras in place that we discussed, and men here locally watching the place, but he didn’t have eyes on the vines.”
“I’m sure that didn’t feel important,” I say, turning us down the main road leading to the vineyard. “Why would it be? Until it is, obviously.”
“Aside from us winning in court,” he says. “You shut your uncle down today.”
“Why would he do this? This isn’t squeezing me financially. This is destroying the vines that produce profit for the winery we’re assuming he wants to own. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if the real treasure isn’t the vines but the property.”
“You’ve said this before, but what treasure, Nick? What could it be?”
“The options are many: A highway or development coming through here that he’s gotten an ear on. Some natural resource. Leverage on another deal. Even some sort of big-dick play for his wife. See me. I have this family vineyard worth forty million dollars. I’m the man. The reasons are many, and they don’t matter at this very moment. Bottom line, I don’t believe this is an accident even if it ends up staged as an accident. And about those cameras that I just ordered Beck to put in place—those are between you, me, and him. No one else.”