The Memory of You Page 5

  “Rough day?” Sparkling brown eyes studied him over the rim of silver spectacles. Her hair was swept into a ponytail tied at the nape of her neck. Tanner swore she didn’t look a day over thirty, though she was in her fifties.

  “You could say that.” He tromped across the porch to the small table beside her chair. Picked up a wine bottle and examined the label. “How is it?” Two thousand nine. A good year. Should just be coming into its own.

  “Lovely, as usual.” She picked up her glass and swirled the red liquid around. “Gwin, leave the cats.” The pup whined, but settled at her feet obediently. Tanner picked up a glass, poured a splash, and stuck his nose in. A bouquet of flavors pleased his senses and produced another smile. “Not bad.” He set it down and backed off. “How does she taste?”

  “Full-bodied. A little oaky, but what I would expect from a Cab. Just a hint of chocolate. I like it.”

  “Good.” He lowered himself onto the empty rocker across from her, leaned his head against the cushion, and closed his eyes. “Jeni has to do a family project.”

  “Yes, she told me.”

  Tanner rubbed his face. “This isn’t getting any easier.”

  “It’s not your fault, Tanner.” His mother’s voice took on the tone that bordered on challenge.

  He wouldn’t take her up on it. The argument was old. One he was tired of losing. “Jase wants me to go to his game tomorrow. What time does it start?”

  “Nine. You should go. Leave Leo in charge for a change.”

  “Please.” Tanner’s clenched his fingers, his jaw tight. Leo Kastner still goaded him, even after two years. Riled him up with that cocky half smile and shifty eyes. Tanner couldn’t imagine why Hal hired him in the first place, but he’d yet to come up with a viable excuse to fire the man. “We’re in the middle of picking and sorting. This week is going to be nuts.”

  “So you still won’t be getting much sleep then?”

  “I hear it’s overrated.” He couldn’t remember when he’d last slept through the night anyway. Being out amongst the vines was better than staring at the ceiling. “Did you see Marnie today?”

  “I go to see her every day, Tanner. You know that.”

  Tanner tilted his head and studied the stars. Not so long ago, he would have identified each of the various shapes and patterns. These days he couldn’t care. What did names of stars and constellations matter when life could be snuffed out in an instant?

  “How was she?” He asked because it was expected, not because he needed to know the answer. Barring a miracle, which he now highly doubted would happen, his sister’s condition would not change.

  “The same.”

  “I figured.”

  Click, clack, click. And then a sigh. “Tanner, I think it’s time.”

  All air left his lungs. He squeezed the edge of the chair, pushed his toes onto the warm wood planks, pushed her words away. “Mom. No.”

  “Sweetheart, I know how you feel. I do. But—”

  Tanner sat forward. “You kept saying not to give up. Right? That God would heal her? So where is your God now, Mom?”

  “He’s your God, too, Tanner Michael Collins, and don’t you forget it.”

  Tanner flinched and looked away. Used to be.

  But his mother’s sharp words warned he’d already said too much.

  He picked up the wine glass again and sniffed, satisfied that the formula he’d played with for so long would deliver the results he hoped for.

  Tanner put the glass down. The temptation to relieve a little tension with a wine buzz was strong tonight. He couldn’t afford to do that.

  “I talked to your father today.” She let the announcement ferment. “He wants to be here, of course. He’s going to tell Rance.”

  “Great.” Tanner glowered at the bottle of wine, now wanting to down the entire thing. “Should we start packing their stuff now or wait until Rance gets here?” Not that he knew whether the kids’ father would have the slightest interest in them. Up until now he certainly hadn’t. Tanner stood, strode across the porch, his breath coming hard and fast, like he’d just come in from a long run.

  “You’re angry.”

  “Of course I’m angry, Mom!” He paced until he could think and talk without shouting. The last thing he needed was Jason coming outside to see what the noise was about. “I won’t give up the kids. No way.”

  “Tanner, you may not have a choice. You’re only their uncle.”

  “He doesn’t deserve them. Where has he been all this time? How many years, five?”

  “Tanner, please. This is hard enough.” Her voice trembled with tears. “You know why Rance hasn’t come. And it’s not like you would have welcomed him anyway.” She swiped at her cheeks. “I’d like you to talk to your father this time.”

  “I talked to him last time.” Said hi and took off to the mountains for the weekend. Tanner bent over his knees and let out a low curse. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “There are things you don’t know, Tanner. Things you need to know about why your father left.”

  Why was she being so insistent tonight?

  “It’s ancient history.” He took slow steps back to where she sat. Pulled up a chair close to hers and took her hand. “Mom. I’m sorry. But promise me you won’t make any final decision about Marnie, not yet.” Her tears were almost enough to send him crashing down the cliff of self-righteousness he’d just climbed.

  “I don’t know what else to do, sweetheart. How long are we supposed to wait?”

  “As long as it takes.” Meaningless words. They both knew the truth. Marnie wasn’t coming back. Ever. “Christmas. We wait until after Christmas.”

  “Tanner. That’s almost three months.”

  “Yep. Won’t make a difference to her, will it?”

  “We can’t wait. You have to accept this, sweetheart.” Her voice shook and she took a few deep breaths. “I told the doctors we’d make the final decision soon.”

  Tanner shook his head, but didn’t argue. There was no point.

  Mom resumed her knitting, and Tanner retreated to the two-seater swing. Pushed off and rocked, back and forth, willing his brain to slow down.

  Accept it?

  The Lakers losing three in a row he could accept. Jason being mad at him for forgetting about his game, he could accept. This? Planning his sister’s death?

  No. This was not acceptable.

  Somewhere out in the scrub-covered dark hills that presided over the vineyards, a wildcat screamed. He wanted to scream back, but that would definitely wake the kids.

  “So what else is going on?” Mom asked. “You barely touched your food.” She knew him too well.

  Tanner sighed. She’d find out sooner or later, probably tomorrow, if she didn’t already know.

  “Mouse is here.”

  “Who?”

  Tanner opened his eyes and found her watching him. He let go a sudden grin and shook his head. “Sorry. Natalie. Natalie Mitchell? Hal’s granddaughter.”

  “I know who she is.” Her needles clicked against one another in rapid rhythm. “Natalie. Well, well. I suppose she’s come to see Hal?”

  “That’s her excuse.” Hal rarely talked about the family back East and Tanner minded his own business. But when Bill Mitchell called last week, Tanner smelled trouble in the air. And it drove through the gates of the winery this afternoon in a rented Jag that probably cost more than what he currently had in his bank account. “Hal didn’t tell me she was coming. It’s weird.”

  “Actually, he did ask me to make up the room she used to use. Didn’t say why and I didn’t ask. Maybe he wanted to surprise you.”

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  She laughed and tossed him a smile. “How is Natalie?”

  Tanner crossed one leg over his knee and picked at a hole in his jeans. “We didn’t have a long conversation.”

  “I hope you weren’t rude.”

  “I was cordial.” Long nights and lack of sleep we
re getting to him. Natalie Mitchell’s arrival was all he needed to push him butt first onto the rocks.

  “Tanner.”

  “What, Mom?” He blew out his irritation. “I haven’t seen the girl since we were kids. I barely remember her.” Not true. The minute he’d laid eyes on her again a truckload of memories pulled up and parked right beside him.

  Natalie had always been shy, Nicole the talker. But over the years, he’d seen Natalie come out of her shell. At least around him, when her sister wasn’t with them. As a kid she’d been a little on the chubby side, but the last summer the family came, she’d lost the weight and was inching toward pretty. And, he had to admit, the grown-up Natalie had captured his attention almost at once.

  He’d tried not to study her for changes the years had brought. Tried not to notice the way her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. Eyes his favorite color of deep iris blue.

  “If I remember rightly, I think you were a little sweet on Miss Natalie.”

  “I was not.” He almost bolted out of his chair, tempted to check the alcohol count on that bottle of wine. “Your memory must be fading in your old age.”

  His mother laughed. “My memory is better than yours most days.”

  “Well, whatever. Mouse was . . .” Tanner stopped midsentence as a memory snuck up on him. A memory he hadn’t realized he still possessed.

  One he did not care to dwell on.

  And one he definitely would not be discussing with his mother.

  Natalie Mitchell was no longer his childhood friend. It was entirely possible she was about to ruin his life. What was left of it.

  “Of course, her sister had her sights set on you and left Natalie in her dust.”

  Tanner swallowed a grin. “Seriously, Mom? We were kids. It was a crazy summer all around. I’m actually surprised she came back. I can’t imagine it’s easy being here.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it would be.” Mom sighed and dabbed her eyes. “I still can’t believe it happened. Such a tragedy.”

  “Yup.”

  “I suppose she’s only here because of Hal’s heart attack,” Mom mused. “She hasn’t been back since Nicole died.”

  Tanner balled his hands into tight fists. He tried not to think about that night.

  “I thanked God for days afterward that I’d grounded you that weekend. I don’t know what those two girls were thinking, taking Hal’s Jeep out in the middle of the night.”

  “It was Nicole’s idea and she was the one driving. I doubt there was any thought involved.” He still remembered the haunted look on Natalie’s face when he’d gone to see her afterward. She’d tried to convince him it was all her fault, that she should have talked her sister out of it. Of course she wasn’t to blame. He’d told her that, over and over again as she lay there, tears streaming down her face.

  He wondered if she’d ever believed it.

  “How long is she staying?” Mom wanted to know.

  “Didn’t say.” Not that he asked. “Hal was pleased to see her.” A yawn snuck out of him and he glanced at his watch. Just after nine and he was ready for bed. Pathetic. “I should have seen this coming. Hal’s son called after Hal’s heart attack. Did I tell you? Got all riled up with me.”

  “What?” She put down the bundle of wool and sat forward. “You talked to Jeffrey?”

  “No.” Tanner took in the anxious look in her eyes. “I talked to Bill.”

  She picked up her needles again. One of his mother’s many outdoor cats snuck out from the shadows, stretching to bat the ball of wool on the ground. “And what did Bill have to say for himself?”

  Gwin growled and Tanner glared at the orange-striped nuisance through a sneeze. “Sounds like you already know the answer.”

  “He threatens to shut this place down every year, Tanner. I wouldn’t worry.”

  Tanner pushed off again, his nose itching. Stupid cats. “I think he’s serious this time. Why do you think Natalie’s really here, Mom? We haven’t recouped our losses from the last two years. I’m hoping we might break even this year but—” Another sneeze shook him.

  “Shoo! Go on.” Mom slapped her slipper-clad feet together and the cat scooted off into the darkness. Gwin shot after it with a delighted bark. “But Hal is a stubborn old coot who refuses to keep up with the times.”

  Tanner laced his fingers together so he wouldn’t rub his stinging eyes. “I wish he’d listen to me. There are so many things we could do. The wine isn’t the problem.”

  “No. But you’re not a shareholder, Tanner. You may think you run things around here, but—”

  “You don’t have to tell me what I already know.” Tanner walked across the porch again. Whistled for Gwin and she came charging back, flopped at his feet with a huff.

  Tanner stared up at the sky. Clouds had moved in but the forecast predicted it would remain dry, which was good news. A few stars blinked through the blackness, trying to convince him there was still a little hope to hold on to. He wasn’t so sure.

  He took his seat again. “Bill seems more adamant than ever. He’ll use Hal’s health issues to full advantage. If you think Natalie came all the way out here just to see how her grandfather was doing, think again.”

  “So, he’s sending his daughter to do his dirty work for him.”

  “Looks that way. She’s the major shareholder.”

  “Poor Natalie.” His mother tut-tutted. “She was always the quiet one. I remember her sister used to push her around like no tomorrow. I suppose her father does the same, not completely unexpected, knowing Bill Mitchell.”

  “Poor Natalie, nothing. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s no slouch in the business world. I Googled her.”

  “You Googled her? Tanner!” Her shoulders shook with sudden laughter. “For pity’s sake, if you wanted to know what she did, why didn’t you just ask her?”

  “Because I don’t trust her.” The words hissed out, surprising him with their venom. He could validate them easily enough if she called him on it.

  His mother’s eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “You don’t know her. Not anymore.”

  “My point exactly.” So there. “Let’s see, since we last saw each other she’s attended some snotty girls prep school, spent a year in Europe, graduated from Harvard School of Business, and now she’s head of PR at Daddy’s company back East.” He wouldn’t mention the broken engagement. Mom would be all over that like flies on rotting grapes. “His shipping company. One of five across the globe. Maoilios is a blip on their radar, Mom. They don’t need it. If they want to shut us down, they can do it tomorrow.”

  “That would be just like Bill. Go in guns blazing with little thought to anybody else.”

  He grinned, picked up the cork from the wine bottle, and sniffed. “Bill thinks Hal’s too old to be running a winery.”

  “He obviously doesn’t know his father as well as he should.” Her eyes took on the troubled look he’d grown used to the past few months. She held her glass toward him.

  He gave her a refill and set the bottle down. “Hal does need to take it easy, but he’d go crazy if he left this place.” Trying to keep the man in bed for two weeks was all Tanner could handle. Eventually he’d given up, and Hal had ambled on down the hill the next morning like he’d never landed himself in the hospital.

  “Same goes for you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Tanner inhaled and pushed away the possibility. Rubbed the sore spot in the small of his back. “Neither is Hal. The sooner his family accepts that, the better.”

  “You don’t know for sure that’s why Natalie’s here. They could be genuinely concerned about him.”

  “The only thing the Mitchells are genuinely concerned about is their bank account.” He shifted in his chair and listened to the cicadas singing themselves to sleep in the olive trees that surrounded their small garden. “If sales don’t pick up soon, we’re done.”

  “It’s been a hard couple of years. Things will improve. Stay positive.”r />
  “I’m trying.” Trying not to go crazy or broke in the process.

  “There’s no harm in being nice to Natalie, you know. A little civility goes a long way.”

  “Uh-huh.” Time to change the subject. “So. Was it my imagination or did you just freak out a little when you thought I’d talked to Jeffrey Mitchell?” Tanner could only recall meeting the man a couple of times. Hal’s younger son rarely called. Never visited. He must have come for his mother’s funeral, but Tanner had been away at the time, on a well-earned vacation that Hal insisted he continue rather than coming back to California two weeks early. Tanner had said his good-byes to Grace before leaving; he had no regrets.

  His mother made that singsong noise that came out whenever she had something she wanted to say but didn’t quite know how. Tanner watched her put down her work again, pick up her glass, and finish the remainder. Her eyes glimmered under the glow of the porch light. “I suppose it’s about time I talked about this.”

  “Talked about what?” Tanner’s voice skipped an octave. Her small smile did nothing to soothe the sense of trepidation that settled over him.

  “Jeffrey and I have a history.”

  “A history?” Tanner sat forward. “Like a romantic history?”

  “We were young. And I was foolish.” She met his stare with a frown. “I’ve never talked about it because I didn’t see the point.”

  “So what happened?” Tanner folded his arms against an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. “If you’re about to tell me that Jeffrey Mitchell is my real father, I gotta say, I’m really not up for that kind of revelation tonight.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tanner!” Laughter caught in her throat and lit her eyes. “Don’t be silly. I met your father two years after Jeffrey. You are Brian Collins’s son, through and through. You know that. No, Jeff hightailed it out of here long before you were born.” Her sigh was sad, but she pushed her shoulders back and settled her gaze on him again. “Jeffrey left me the day he and I were supposed to get married.”

  Five

  NATALIE WATCHED THE SUN RISE THROUGH THE CURTAINS OF her bedroom windows. She lay very still, took deep breaths, and savored the moment before coming fully awake, the few minutes in the day when she actually felt like maybe she could cope after all. Soon reality would crash in and shove her back to the point of barely being able to survive it.