At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,92

My suitcases are out front. And I can’t walk very far yet, so I need a ride to the house. Preferably in a car that doesn’t smell like cow shit.”

I forgot what a mouth that woman has on her.

Uncle Vito gives us a ride over to the barn-house, and we carry her suitcases inside.

Aunt Fernanda greets Aceto with a cry of joy. She pets Ducktape approvingly, and goes out to the back porch to check out their living quarters.

“You’ll take the downstairs bedroom, of course. I’ll move up into the loft,” I tell her. It’s full of Donovan’s things that I haven’t packed up and mailed back to him yet. I might ask Pamela to do it for me. If I asked anyone in my family, he’d get all of his belongings in pieces no bigger than a marble.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” She cocks her head to the side.

“I don’t know if I know what love is,” I sigh.

“I think you do. And I think maybe he loved you too, in his own way.”

I put her suitcases in the bedroom and help her hang up her clothing.

Then we settle onto the sofa, and I fetch some cheese and crackers and pour us each a glass of Syrah. Aceto curls up in her lap, purring like a motorboat.

She strokes Aceto’s head. Then she looks at me. “I know he isn’t really my Nuccio.” Her gaze goes sad and soft.

“Oh. Well, of course you do.”

“He’s an angel sent by Nuccio to watch over me. That’s why I need to take good care of him.”

I look at Aceto sidelong. “Angel” is pushing it.

But I have my aunt Ferdie back, and the vineyard is thriving, and thinking about Cesare’s car fetches my first genuine smile in weeks, which probably makes me a horrible person. I’ll go help him clean it later. Right now, it’s nice to find something, anything, to laugh about.

Chapter Thirty-One

SIENNA

Three days home have sweetened my aunt’s disposition – marginally. “The weather is pretty good,” Aunt Fernanda grudgingly admits. She’s sitting outside in one of the chairs in our seating area. We’ve applied for and been granted an extension of premises, so we can now seat triple the number of customers that we had before. Every table is full. We’re working on getting licensing to cook and serve food.

“Pretty good?” I shove a glass of Pinot Grigio at her. “It’s absolute heaven and you know it. When I was a little girl, if I had complained this much, you’d have followed me around spouting inspirational platitudes until they were running out of my ears.”

“Yes, well, I was an annoying know-it-all back then. But really, what did I know?” She contemplates her glass, then swirls it, holds it up and sniffs deeply.

The wine transports her, leaving her grumpy mood behind. “Ahh. 2017. I can taste the sunshine gilding the treetops.” I didn’t even identify the wine before I handed to her. She just knows. We don’t just bottle wine, we bottle seasons and wind and rain and sun, and memories.

My gaze sweeps the vineyard, and despite the ache in my heart over Donovan’s loss, I feel good today. I love this vineyard. I do. I never let myself admit how much I missed it over the years, but now that I’m back here, I don’t think I could return to Seattle. I love the grapes and the vines, I love the soil and the change of the seasons, I love every step of the winemaking process. And I love bringing my accountant’s expertise to it all, crunching the numbers and making everything run smoothly.

I turn and look at my aunt.

“This is a good day,” I say to her. “Admit it.”

“Fine. The weather is wonderful and I’m happy to be home,” she admits. She takes another sip and smiles at me. “I’m happy to have you back. It’s been a long time.”

My gaze falls. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long. I mean, I came and visited, but it wasn’t the same.”

“I knew you’d come back to us when the time was right.” She takes another sip, then frowns. “There is something I am worrying about, though.”

“Of course you are.” She wouldn’t be Aunt Fernanda if she wasn’t fussing about something.

“Two things, actually. One is that Donovan has clearly broken your heart, and I haven’t seen a smile on you since I’ve been home. I wish I knew what happened.”

“I’ll tell you someday.”

I’m not ready to talk to