I smile with encouragement. “I think that’s a great idea, but let’s not give up on getting you into your dream school, okay?” I know we can at least get her into the state university here. They have loans and whatnot. It’s not her dream though. “Oh, and hey, I’m looking at what it would take to enter our new wine in the big tasting championship in New York. If we get in, maybe you can come along, and we could tour the school while we’re there.”
“Seriously?” Her big brown eyes light up. “New York?”
Maybe I spoke too soon. “Well, a lot has to happen first.” Having a great wine would be a nice start. Then we need to submit it for consideration. Plus there’s travel expenses and a hotel. I’m hoping that Castle Sangria might be willing to front the costs. We could pay them back out of our future profits. “But let’s keep that between us for now. I’d hate to get everyone’s hopes up.” They only take the best of the best wines from around the country. The initial qualifying samples are due next month. They have to be sent in blind with a number, no winery label, and you have to pay a courier to hand carry the entry on a private plane. Shipping wines by car or truck agitates the sediments and changes the flavor. It’s even a risk to fly with it, but that’s your best bet to deliver the bottle with the flavor fully intact. Flying commercial won’t work because they limit the amount of liquids you can carry, and I’m not about to put our wine in the belly of a plane, where the temperature might not be controlled.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Mabel says.
“What are we talking about?” Mom enters the kitchen. She looks tired—dark circles under her eyes and a somber vibe.
“Oh, uh…” I think fast. “I’m going over to Castle Sangria later to work on the new wine. I didn’t want Dad to get upset. I know he’s not a fan of Mr. Bozhidar.”
My mom swipes her hand through the air. “Your father just worries, that’s all.”
Mabel raises a brow. “I dunno, Mom. I’m going to side with Dad on this one. Something about that man feels off.”
“Like what?” I laugh. Everyone’s so paranoid. I don’t get it.
“Like…the way he looks at you,” Mabel says, widening her eyes comically. “Reminds me of a wolf sizing up a juicy lamb.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s just intense. Okay, and he’s a little eccentric.” But those eyes…they scream bedroom.
“Oh, and let’s not forget handsome,” Mom chimes in with a swooning effect to her voice.
“Whatever, I have to get ready for work,” Mabel says.
Mabel has a summer job at the small French bistro down the road, working in the kitchen.
“Have fun,” Mom says to Mabel. She turns to me. “And you don’t have too much fun.”
I shake my head.
My mom waits until Mabel’s out of the kitchen. “Honey, I didn’t want to bring this up, because I know how smart you are and how dedicated you are to helping Stellariva, but maybe I should say something. I noticed how Mr. Bozhidar was looking at you too. And you gave him your share of looks back, but is it really wise to get involved with a man when you’re planning on doing business together?”
That joyous flutter in my heart, the one that was there when I woke up this morning, dies with a sputter. She’s right. It’s a terrible idea. Things could go sideways and the deal could blow up. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll keep it professional. I promise.” But as soon as those words leave my mouth, I already feel like I’ve gone back on my word, like it’s a forgone conclusion I’m going to be with that man. And yes, I know I hardly know Boz, but these glimpses into his honest, generous heart have me wanting to spend more time with him.
No. You can’t blow this, Stella. You can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my knees locked together. No entry, handsome.
“Thank you, honey. And good luck tonight. Tell Mr. Bozhidar we’re very excited to see what he comes up with.”
Suddenly, I’m wondering if my mom should go instead. She’s the one with the nose. My heart instantly protests. I have to see him. I’m drawn to that place and to that man.
Maybe tonight I’ll figure out how to break his hold, because it can only lead to a bad situation. A man like that—rich, smart, generous, and hot—is single for a reason: Because he wants to be. And I’m not going to risk this important venture for a fling, especially when I have zero interest in those. Pursuing anything with Boz will only lead to heartbreak.
That evening, just before seven, I head across the road to the castle. It’s a bit of a climb up the driveway to the front door, but it’s a warm evening, and I need to work off some of the anxiety that’s been building all day in my stomach. I know what I have to do. I know what’s right. This partnership is the difference between my family’s survival or losing everything.
I walk up the long, cobblestone driveway at a brisk pace. My gaze flashes to the window on the top floor. Part of me hopes to find the silhouette of a tall, strong man watching me, but it’s empty.
I sigh, but tell myself it’s good. Very good. There can’t be any more of those longing glances from across the room and little flirtations.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Hello!” a man’s voice calls out from behind me just as I pass the moat.
I stop and turn, thinking it’s probably some tourist who’s lost. We have tons of people who come from all around the world to visit the valley and the wineries. People get turned around all the time. And, oddly enough, the GPS doesn’t always work in this area. It’s like a chunk of road is simply missing from all the electronic maps. It’s no big deal since both wineries have big signs out, and it’s not like anyone’s going to miss the huge castle at the top of the hill, but it is strange.
“Hi,” I say. “Can I help you?” The man is wearing thick glasses and a very unusual outfit—a long brown trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat made from straw. First of all, it’s pretty warm out this evening. Second, why wear a summer hat with a winter coat? Oh well.
“Yes, yes. Thank you. I’m from the local water conservation agency. I’m doing surveys about the various wineries and was wondering if you could answer a few questions about your neighbors.”
Huh. That’s odd. How does he know I live across the road? And all of the wineries are strictly regulated in the valley in terms of water usage. The county monitors compliance to usage limits and conservation law; for example, we’re only allowed to water our plants at certain times of the day. Once a year, an inspector comes out to make sure all our sprinklers and irrigation systems are functioning properly. But that’s usually in the early spring. “I’m sorry, but who did you say you work for again?”
He pushes his thick glasses up his nose. “The water conservation agency. We’re a private group. We monitor the wetlands. You know, for bird and animal migration. I’m in charge of tracking nocturnal species. Have you noticed any unusual wildlife activity at night? Animals being eaten? How about bats? Have you seen bats on your neighbor’s property?”
Okay. This dude is cuckoo. We have no wetland in this area, and I don’t like his beady eyes. “I’m sorry. I really couldn’t say. You’ll have to ask them.” I turn and continue on my way, walking even faster toward the front door.