“Jason used the word ‘troubled’?” he asked.
“No,” John admitted with obvious reluctance. “But that was the implication.”
“What, exactly, did he tell you about Irene?”
“Not a great deal. He seemed taken with her, to be honest. But then he explained that her father killed her mother in a murder-suicide years back and that Irene has cooked up some kind of crazy theory about Senator Webb’s daughter having been murdered.”
“There are a few murky details surrounding the death of Pamela Webb.”
John’s eyes sharpened. “I read in the paper that it was an accidental overdose involving meds and alcohol.”
“Irene believes there is more to it. I’m inclined to agree.”
John’s mouth tightened. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He searched Luke’s face with a worried expression. “Jason also told me that you were with Irene when she found Pamela Webb’s body.”
“Yes.”
“That had to be very difficult for you, given what happened to your mother when you were a boy.”
Luke swallowed some of the intense cabernet. “You’ve been talking to Dr. Van Dyke too much.”
“I think you should talk to her, too.”
“Haven’t got time right now. Like I said, I’m busy.”
John stirred, visibly annoyed. “What’s all this about the senator’s lake house burning to the ground?”
Luke smiled humorlessly. “Jason did a very good job of filling you in, didn’t he? I’ll have to speak to him about that.”
“Don’t blame your brother. I asked the questions. He answered. Look, I know you don’t want to admit you might have some issues. No one wants to admit that they’ve got psychological problems. That goes double for men who have seen combat and probably quadruple for Marines. But Dr. Van Dyke says that PTSD is a wound, just like having shrapnel in a leg. It can fester if it isn’t cleaned out.”
“I’d like to know how Van Dyke can justify coming up with a diagnosis without ever interviewing the patient.”
“That’s exactly why she thinks you should make an appointment with her. She wants to get a solid diagnosis. Even though you refuse to talk about it, we all know that you went through some terrible stuff during your last couple of years in the Corps. No one can be exposed to that kind of thing and not be affected.”
“I never said it didn’t affect me. What I’ve said is that I’m dealing with it.”
“The hell you are. After you got out of the Marines you were unable to adjust to working here at the winery. You failed to establish a normal, intimate relationship with the woman you planned to marry and had to end your engagement—”
“Dad, this isn’t a good time.”
“Then you take yourself off to the middle of nowhere, buy a third-rate, fleabag motel and get involved with a rather odd woman who appears to be trying to construct a conspiracy theory about the death of the daughter of a U.S. senator. I don’t need a degree in psychology or psychiatry to know that doesn’t sound exactly normal.”
The door opened before Luke could come up with a response.
Gordon Foote walked into the room. He took in the scene with a knowing expression and raised his eyebrows at John.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Should I go back out and come in again?”
“Don’t bother,” John growled. “You’re family. Not the first time you’ve seen Luke and me go at it.”
That was no less than the truth, Luke thought. Gordon had been his father’s friend and partner since before Luke was born. The bond between the two men had been forged when they were enthusiastic students in the wine-making program at the University of California at Davis. Together they had built a dream. Elena Creek Vineyards had survived economic recessions, drastic changes in the global marketplace and a number of earthquakes. Today it thrived, thanks to the dedication and effort of these two men.
In many ways the pair could not have been more different. Gordon was the easygoing, genial sort, the kind of man who could walk into a room full of strangers and, within ten minutes, be on a first-name basis with everyone. Women loved to dance with him. Men enjoyed his company. Hostesses knew that the easiest way to ensure a successful party was to make certain that Gordon Foote got an invitation.
Even Gordon’s ex-wife was fond of him, although she had left him several years ago during one of the downturns in the wine market. She had assumed, as many in the industry had, that Elena Creek Vineyards was headed for bankruptcy. By the time it became clear that the company was destined to flourish, she had remarried.
Gordon had remained happily single, devoted equally to the business and to his daughter, Katy. As far as Luke could determine, he did not lack for feminine companionship.
Gordon crossed the room to where the open bottle of cabernet stood on a side table. He gave Luke a wry, commiserating look. “Who’s winning this one?”
“It’s a draw so far.” Luke smiled slightly. “Neither of us is giving an inch.”
“What else is new?” Gordon raised his glass in a mocking salute. “Don’t let me stop the two of you. Always fun to watch the fireworks.”
John moved his hand in a let’s-change-the-subject motion. “I assume you were sent in here to fetch me?”
“Afraid so.” Gordon grinned and rocked on his heels. “The big cake event will commence in fifteen minutes. You’ve got a few billion candles to blow out, and then you get to take Vicki onto the dance floor for the annual birthday waltz.”
John groaned. “I hate the candle part.”
Gordon chuckled. “Tradition must be honored. Don’t worry, I made sure that there’ll be a fire extinguisher nearby.”
Luke decided to seize his opportunity. He started toward the door. “I’d better go find my date.”
“Last I saw of Miss Stenson, she was outside on the terrace talking to Vicki,” Gordon offered helpfully.
“Just the scenario I was hoping to avoid,” Luke said.
John scowled. “You can’t blame Vicki for being curious about her.”
“Your dad’s right,” Gordon said. Some of his cheerful, bantering air evaporated. Concern took its place. “From what Jason told us about Miss Stenson this evening, she sounds a little unusual, to say the least.”
Luke nodded. “Works for me.”
He opened the door and let himself out of the room.
Gordon watched guilt and a father’s fear coalesce on the face of his old friend. The signs and indications were subtle: the white brackets at the edge of his mouth, the way he gripped the wineglass. Most people would not have noticed. But he and John had known each other for a very long time.
He picked up the bottle, crossed the room and refilled John’s glass.
“Take it easy,” he said quietly.
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” John swallowed more wine and lowered the glass. “Luke’s in serious trouble. It was bad enough that he fell apart after he and Katy ended their engagement. But now he’s involved with a woman who may be in worse shape than he is.”
“Maybe you should back off and give him some time and space, John.”
John raised stark eyes to look at him. “If I give him too much time and space, I may lose him. Van Dyke says this PTSD thing is unpredictable. There’s no telling what might happen if I don’t get him into treatment.”
Gordon put his hand on John’s shoulder. “This is about Sarah, isn’t it?”
“Hell, yes, it’s about Sarah.” John shoved himself up out of his chair and started to pace the room. “He’s her son. Van Dyke says that a tendency toward depression and self-destructive behavior can have a strong genetic component. Add to that the trauma of combat and what happened to him the weekend he and Katy went away together, and you’ve got a very dangerous mix.”
“He’s your son, too, and he’s got your genes. He’s not a carbon copy of Sarah.”
“I know that.” John shoved his hands through his hair. “But I can’t take
the risk of hoping that he’ll pull out of this on his own. Van Dyke says he may be a ticking bomb.”
“I know this is hard on you, John. It’s hard on me, too. I’ve known Luke since he was born. You think I’m not worried about him? But he’s a grown man, not a boy. You can advise, but you can’t force him to seek counseling.”
“What am I supposed to do?” John stopped in front of the hearth. “Pretend that he’s going to get better on his own? Ignore all the signs the way I did with his mother?”
“You did not ignore Sarah. She was clinically depressed. You are not responsible for the fact that she took her own life.”
“Maybe not.” John turned around very slowly. “But I don’t think I could live with myself if Luke did something like that.”
“Luke has always gone his own way. And he can be extremely stubborn.” He smiled wearily. “Like I said, he’s your son, John.”
“I talked to Van Dyke again this afternoon.” John’s face went stony with renewed resolve. “I told her that Luke would be in town tonight and tomorrow morning. She said there was one more thing we could try. But she needs the cooperation of everyone in the family. That includes you.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, whatever it is. But you’re my friend. You know damn well you don’t have to ask me twice to help you.”
Twenty-nine
Vicki Danner was a stylish woman with an assured, self-confident manner. Her patrician features showed the long-term benefits of regular professional facials. Of course, Irene thought, the good bones didn’t hurt. Dressed in a classic gray sheath, diamonds glittering in her ears and around her throat, she was the picture of expensive, tasteful elegance.
Irene had seen Vicki in action earlier in the evening and knew that John Danner’s wife could be incredibly charming. But at the moment, Vicki was not in charm mode. She wanted answers and she intended to get them.
“Are you involved in Luke’s new business venture?” Vicki asked with a thin smile.
Irene blanked. “Business venture?”
“The ridiculous little motel he bought in Dunsley.”
“Oh, the lodge.” Irene took a sip of her sauvignon blanc while she considered her answer. “Hard to think of that as a viable business venture, to tell you the truth. At least not with Luke at the helm. But to answer your question, no, I’m not involved. I’m happy with my job at the Beacon. The doughnuts are better.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Forget it.”
“How did you meet Luke?” Vicki asked.
“You could say I paid for the introduction.”
Vicki frowned.
“I meant I’m a paying guest at the lodge,” Irene said hastily.
“This is just a casual relationship, then?”
Irene thought about the kaleidoscopic series of events that had taken place since she first encountered Luke, culminating in the most intense sexual experience of her entire life.
“Not any longer,” she said, feeling decidedly more cheerful and relaxed. The wine was working, she thought.
Vicki’s smile held no hint of warmth. “When did you find out that Luke’s father owns half of the Elena Creek Vineyards?”
“Jason mentioned it when he visited Luke in Dunsley the other day.”
“And the next thing we know, Luke is bringing you to a private family gathering. Interesting.”
Irene looked through the windows at the large, well-heeled crowd milling around the winery’s resplendent main reception room. “Gee, I wouldn’t consider that an event with a guest list of a few hundred people qualified as a private family gathering. But I suppose it’s all relative, isn’t it?”
Vicki looked baffled. “What?”
Irene cleared her throat. “That was supposed to be a clever little play on words. Family gathering? Relative? Get it?”
Vicki glanced past Irene’s right shoulder. “Here comes Katy. You two met earlier, I believe.”
“Yes.” Irene braced herself and turned to smile at the lovely woman gliding toward them across the terrace.
Blond, blue-eyed and dainty, Katy Foote was one of those delicate, ethereal-looking women who made men want to strap on shining armor and go out to slay a few dragons. But within five seconds of meeting her, Irene had decided that she liked her, anyway.
Katy wore a gown of pale azure silk that screamed high-end designer. In a very subtle way, of course.
It dawned on Irene that, dressed in the severely cut little black number that she had managed to find on the marked-down rack in a mall department store that afternoon, she probably looked like the Wicked Witch of Glaston Cove standing next to a dignified queen and a lovely fairy-tale princess.
There’s a reason why clothes end up on sale, she reminded herself. It’s because no one else wanted them. But she had not been able to justify digging into her hard-earned savings to buy a fabulously expensive gown for the evening, knowing that she would probably never wear the dress again.
“Hello, Katy,” Vicki said. “I was just talking to Irene about how she came to meet Luke. She told me that she’s staying at his lodge in Dunsley.”
“Yes, I know.” Katy laughed. “I have to admit, I can’t imagine Luke as an innkeeper.” She gave Irene an amused look. “Does he issue long lists of rules to his guests?”
At that moment, Irene spotted Luke coming toward her. He was accompanied by his father, Jason and Hackett.
“Let’s just say that checkout times are strictly enforced at Sunrise on the Lake Lodge,” she said.
She turned to watch the men approach. She had met Hackett and John earlier when she and Luke arrived. She had also had a chance to greet Jason. But this was the first time she had seen all four of the Danner men grouped closely together. Each was impressive in his own right, but taken en masse and dressed in hand-tailored tuxes they were enough to make any woman sit up and take notice.
All three of John Danner’s sons had their father’s bird-of-prey eyes, but aside from that feature, there was little resemblance. It was obvious that Hackett and Jason owed their good-looking, aristocratic features to Vicki.
The men came to a halt. Irene noticed that Hackett looked first at Katy. The pair exchanged a silent message. Katy’s gaze slid away first. Irene thought she saw a melancholy shadow cross her pretty features.
“I can’t believe another year has slipped past.” John took Vicki’s hand and threaded her fingers through his own. He smiled down at her. “Where does the time go?”
“Don’t pay any attention to the Old Man,” Jason said to Irene. “He says that every year.”
“That’s because it’s true every year.” John dropped a light, affectionate kiss on Vicki’s cheek. “But at least these damn birthday parties give me an excuse to dance with the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Vicki’s expression softened. She loves him, Irene thought. And he loves her. Mom and Dad used to look at each other that way.
“You aren’t growing older,” Vicki said lightly. “You’re just getting more distinguished.”
“Could have fooled me,” Jason said. He scrutinized his father closely. “Sure looks old.”
“Old and sneaky beats young and smart-mouthed every time,” John warned.
“There you all are.” Gordon Foote hurried across the terrace to take Katy’s arm. “The cake is about to be set afire, and the musicians are ready for the waltz. Better get moving, folks.”
John, with Vicki by his side, started toward the reception room. But he paused to look back at Luke.
“By the way,” he said, “I meant to tell you earlier that Hackett, Jason, Gordon and I have made arrangements for you to join us for breakfast at The Vineyard before you leave town tomorrow. You know the restaurant. It’s right across from the inn. They’ve reserved the private room for us.”
Irene tensed. Luke’s father had issued the invitation a little too casually, she thought. There was a false quality in the words that set her nerves on edge. She glanced at Luke,
curious about his reaction.
“Irene and I had planned to get an early start,” he said, evidently oblivious.
“No problem,” John assured him. “We’ll eat early.”
“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Vicki said with a sudden show of determined enthusiasm. “Katy and I will take Irene to breakfast in the main section of the restaurant while the five of you get together in the private room. It will give you men a chance to spend some quality time together.”
“You gotta eat in the morning, anyway,” Jason reminded Luke cheerfully. “You know how you are about breakfast.”
“Might as well have it with us before you take off,” Hackett added.
Luke shrugged. “If you don’t mind, Irene?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said quickly. Whatever was going on here, it was a family matter. The smart thing to do was stay out of it.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Vicki assured Luke. “Won’t we, Katy?”
“Yes, of course.” Katy smiled. “Great idea.”
“Thanks,” Irene said, feeling her way.
“That’s settled, then.” John drew Vicki forward again. “Ready, my dear?”
She gripped his arm very tightly. “Yes.”
He guided her toward the open French doors. Gordon, Katy, Hackett and Jason followed swiftly.
Irene found herself alone with Luke. Together they watched the small group disappear into the reception room.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“Damned if I know. Guess I’ll find out in the morning. Can’t be too bad if it includes breakfast.”
“Seriously, Luke.”
“Seriously? Got a hunch that tomorrow morning at breakfast I will receive yet another offer I can’t refuse to come back to the family business.”
She relaxed slightly. “That sounds plausible. Your family is genuinely worried about you, Luke.”
“I know, but there’s not much I can do about that.” He took her hand. “So, what do you say we eat some cake, drink more wine and dance, instead?”
“Sounds like a plan.”