Echo Lake. Carla Neggers
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“I thought they lived in Boston,” Vic said.
“They did for a while.” Heather didn’t want to get into the details of Maggie and Brandon’s near-divorce last year. Not that she knew many of the details. “Now they’re back in town.”
“Brandon’s a skilled carpenter as I recall.”
“He’ll be working on your renovations.”
Heather watched through the double open doorway as Adrienne got wineglasses from a built-in cabinet with stained-glass panels, original to the house. She brought the glasses into the living room and set them on the coffee table. “You’re a mysterious character around here, I think, Vic. Elly told me you’ve always seemed exotic and fascinating, kind of a diplomatic James Bond.”
“A diplomatic James Bond,” Vic said. “I like that.”
What did that make Brody? The real deal? Heather stood, her hands and feet warm and her pant leg almost dry but her mood suddenly off. She felt restless, confused—faintly irritated. Why hadn’t Brody told her who he was right from the start? She obviously hadn’t recognized him while she’d been in the midst of rescuing Rohan and keeping herself from falling in the icy brook.
Adrienne opened one of the wine bottles. Heather noticed the elegant, distinctive Kendrick Winery label. She’d met Noah a few times but didn’t know him well. His best friend and business partner, Dylan McCaffrey, had beat him to Knights Bridge, arriving last spring to check on property he had discovered he owned there. Dylan, too, had fallen in love with a woman from Knights Bridge.
The short version of that story, Heather thought with a smile.
“What’s on your mind, Heather?” Vic asked quietly.
“Nothing. Just warming up.”
He studied her a moment then got to his feet. “You two chat and start on the first bottle. I’ll check on Rohan and invite Brody to join us. Last night I waited too long, and he peed on the floor. Rohan, I mean. Not our Agent Hancock.”
After Vic left, Adrienne poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Heather. “I think we’re going to enjoy this,” she said, raising her glass. “Cheers.”
Heather smiled. “Cheers.” She sipped the wine, enjoying the smooth flavor. “It is good, but you’re the expert.”
“I think of myself as a wine enthusiast more than a wine expert.”
“But you enjoy what you do,” Heather said.
Adrienne nodded, returning to her chair. “I love it, even when it doesn’t pay the bills. I’ve always had a keen sense of taste, and it felt natural to put it to use with wine. I know what I like, I know what’s good and I know how to describe wine in a way that’s entertaining and makes sense to other people.”
“You’re also not a wine snob.”
“I couldn’t be a wine snob and do what I do, or love it as much as I do.”
“When you think about it, snobbery doesn’t get anyone very far,” Heather said.
“It wouldn’t in Knights Bridge, that’s for sure. You all would run me out of town if I had my nose up in the air about wine—or anything else.”
Heather laughed. “Now, now. Live and let live, right? We have a soft spot for our snobs.”
“Every place has them, I guess. Vic’s more down-to-earth than I expected. I only met him a few times before I worked out this house-sitting arrangement. It’s been good getting to know him.”
“Any closer to deciding where you want to be after this?” Heather asked.
Adrienne shook her head. “I’ve been on the road constantly for more than a year. Maintaining an apartment made no sense, but now I feel rootless. Well, more rootless than usual. I haven’t lived anywhere for more than six months since I got out of college.” She smiled. “That must be hard for you to imagine.”
“I’m definitely not rootless, but I do want to travel.”
“Would you ever consider living somewhere besides Knights Bridge?”
“I have considered it.”
“But it’s home.” A touch of melancholy had crept into Adrienne’s voice. She raised her wineglass and seemed to make an effort to cheer up. “I’m enjoying hanging out here and teaching Vic about wine. No one thinks I’m taking advantage of him, I hope.”
“Who do you mean by no one?” Heather asked.
“People in town.”
“Ah. You’re not the subject of local gossip that I know of, but I wouldn’t necessarily know since I don’t pay attention to local gossip unless forced. Elly O’Dunn knows everything that goes on in town. She’d be the one to ask when she’s back from San Diego. Anyway, what difference does it make if people gossip about you?”
“Good point. No one takes advantage of Vic Scarlatti, that’s for sure. He’s good-natured and mild-mannered, but he also has a spine of steel.” Adrienne drew herself up straight. “My parents say he almost got to the altar a couple of times. I wonder if there’s a woman out there he regrets letting get away.”
“Any candidates?”
“None that I’m aware of. Maybe there’s a woman out there who gave him up for her career, or couldn’t take the rigors of his life as a career diplomat.”
“Or who gave him up for his career,” Heather added.
“Oh, now that’s a fun one to think about. Vic Scarlatti besotted with the wrong woman. The woman recognizing it and walking away from their relationship so he could go save the world.” Adrienne drank more of her wine. “I doubt it ever happened, but I don’t doubt our Vic has secrets. I, however, will concentrate on designing him a proper wine cellar and stocking it with proper wine.”
“Do you think you’d ever relocate out here?”
Adrienne’s eyes opened wide in obvious surprise. “Here? In Knights Bridge? What would I do?”
“What you’re doing now, I guess. You don’t go into an office.”
“True, but I need more asphalt and concrete around me than you have here. Total city girl. I can’t see myself enjoying an expensive red wine while watching a bald eagle sail above Echo Lake. Are there bald eagles here?”
“A few, thanks to the reservoir and its protected watershed.”
“Quabbin. What a beautiful place. I can’t help but think about the towns that were wiped off the map to create it. Can you imagine Knights Bridge under thirty feet of water, everything you know gone? The Swift River Valley was a very different place in 1912 when this house was built.”
“There was talk even then about damming the valley to provide drinking water for metropolitan Boston.” Heather set her wineglass on the coffee table. She didn’t want to drink too much before she got on the road, especially on an empty stomach. “I love to snowshoe on some of the old Quabbin roads. Why don’t you join me one day, if it’s something that appeals to you?”
“That would be great.” Adrienne seemed genuinely interested. “I don’t know how to cross-country ski, but I can manage snowshoes.”
“I wish I’d had mine while I was chasing Rohan. I should head home. Thanks for the wine.”
“I’ll fetch your dry socks while you pack up.”
Heather thanked her and headed through the dining room and a small hall into the kitchen. Rohan was asleep on his bed in the mudroom. The back door was shut tight, preventing any further mischief on his part.
Vic was at the counter with a cutting board and paring knife. “I’m about to start hors d’oeuvres,” he said.