New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

“We were lucky that Rick knew about this property.
 
I was so down in the dumps that winter after
getting shot up
on
my last FBI case.
 
Ivy pulled me out of it by getting me to read
about vineyards, then she set up a call for me with Rick who she knew from some
business dealings.
 
That led us to here.”

“The view is gorgeous this
time of day.
 
Steve used a
talented architectural firm for the house.”

Mathew smiled to himself, glad that Callie felt able to move
away from the kidnapping, at least for a time.
  
“Steve did the preliminary design of the house, the
stonework
and the garden layouts.
 
The architect polished Steve’s computer
depictions into blueprints and made the whole project harmonious.
 
Ivy took on most of the finishes inside and the
gardens.
 
The house is like them as a
couple.”

“Steve’s rugged austerity and Ivy’s warmth,” Callie
said.
 
“What will you do with the old
house?”

“I want to one day incorporate its country charm into a
bigger home,” Mathew said.

“Did you draw up a plan?”

“Pencil drafts of the outside is all.
 
Want to see?” he asked.

She smiled, nodded and took a sip from her glass.
 
Mathew
asked her to spread Bucheron goat cheese on the crostini while he went
downstairs to bring up his sketches.
 
Showing
the drawings to Callie made him both tense and excited.
 
Even though it was premature, he pictured her
in the house.
 
He came back with his
sketch book opened to the
front
prospect,
pulled a wicker hassock over next to her and began talking to Callie about the
layout.

“Oh Mathew, the concept is perfect, like a house in a
New England Home
magazine
.
 
Today's houses
lack such rambling allure,” Callie said.
 
She paused to trace a finger lightly around the pencil image of the
existing structure.
 
Then she used her
hands to block it out to only show the new part.

“I like the way you are using the old homestead as a wing of
the bigger, new house,” Callie said.
 
“
Its
generational ambiance will enhance the new
structure making it into a home.
 
What
will you do
with it?”

“Den and office below with a guest suite above,” Mathew
said, feeling relieved that she liked his vision of the planned house.

“Are you from New England?
 
Is this like the house you grew up in?” she asked.

“Yes and no.
 
I am
from Connecticut.
 
Back there my father
constructed
an immense
contemporary home
up on a rise.
 
The house stood handsomely
in a mid-century modern way, all steel and glass.
 
Still,
I always admired those traditional New England houses.
 
They appear warmer and more gracious.
 
White clapboard should clad the house along
with dark green or black shutters
or
a
light
gray
with navy trim might blend
better with the environment here.
 
That
stone wall serving as a border between the lawn and the driveway will
be
the blue-gray granite stacked here at
Steve’s house and down at the vineyard gate.
 
That will give our two properties cohesion,” Mathew said.
 
Cautiously he flipped to the back of the
house.

Callie sat contemplating the sketch for a full minute before
turning to him and smiling.
 
“The
windowed wall is astonishing, but I like the house, especially the way the
views will open up to the hill behind it.
 
It will be comfortable and
fetching
without verging on the overly dramatic.
 
Is it possible to blast out the whole back wall of the house for
windows?”

“That’s what the architect and contractor will have to
figure out.”
 
He turned
the page
to show his notion of the landscape
behind the house.
 
A broad
band of turf went up the hill, with
rows of grapevines running away on the right and up behind the barns on the
left.
 
Callie giggled in amusement at his
outlined
playhouse.

“You want a family?”

“If all my dreams work out.”

“I can picture you here as a family man,” Callie said,
tapping the sketch with her finger.
 
“You
are so good with Susannah.”

Mathew smiled at her but held back, turning instead back to
the drawings.
 
“What do you think of the
setting for the house?”

“If I may suggest a couple of changes, terraced flower and
herb beds along the sides with the big sweep of lawn down to the patio will be
inviting,” Callie said, as she curved her finger along each side of the
grass
and then pointed to a spot on the back of
the house.
 
“A spiral staircase off the
second story balcony might be a sweet idea.
 
How about
a
fountain as a focal point
in the middle of the lawn, with a curving rim for dangling feet in on a hot
day?”

He delineated the suggestions, leaving the detail for
later.
 
They talked for a few more
minutes about the house and went to cook.
 
Callie prepared the salad, while he did the steaks and finished the
sauce.
 
The way Ivy laid out the menu for
him, each dish came together easily once he finalized the tricky, flavorful
entrée.
 
After dining, they took bowls of
ice cream with berries with them for the walk up to the new tree house to
delight in the sunset.
 
The corgis ran
gaily along with them,
scooting
out
quickly, then pausing to sniff for scents and scurrying off again.

As they walked, he felt Callie’s closeness with her shoulder
sometimes brushing his.
 
At the foot of
the stairs to the tree house, he stopped and turned to face her.

“Callie, I want to be here for you while you sort your life
out.
 
Do I dare hope that one day you
might think of me as more than a friend?”

She held his gaze with her
steady
,
earnest expression.
 
“I’m not ready
now.
 
You are right about that.
 
Susannah goes
to
counseling
twice a
week,
and I need to find my true self again
after my time with John Henry.
 
Her
recovery and mine may take months or even years.
 
John Henry took so much away from
me,
and I let him.
 
My passivity troubles me the most.”

She paused to stare at the sun as it set over the Coastal
Range.
 
“Now I find myself all splintered
on the inside.
 
My desire to break away
and come alive encourages my optimism, even if I retain little confidence and
self-esteem.
 
First I must focus on
Susannah and
make
sure she can deal with
the aftermath of the kidnapping, not that I want to hover or be intrusive.”

She walked up the
steps,
and Mathew followed.
 
He pulled a couple
of chairs out
on
the upper deck.
 
Before they sat down, she touched the soft
skin next to the left side of his lips and said, “Mathew since the first time I
saw you, you drew me to you.
 
Let me put
my old life in the past and embrace the potential of this new life and then
perhaps . . .”

“We can develop a relationship built
on
love and respect.”

“Like Sassy and Rick.”

“And like Ivy and Steve.”

He tugged her close and held her, keeping
to his self-commitment not
to kiss her no
matter how much he desired to brush those well-formed lips of hers with
his.
 
He wanted her healing to be only
months and not years.
 
The more he came
to know Callie, the more he wanted her.
 
After escaping from her husband and their bad marriage, she seemed less
stressed.
 
H
e
longed for her psychological recovery to accelerate as the weeks passed.

Callie woke the next morning with the thrill of knowing
thoughtful
, handsome Mathew wanted her and
would give her time to find the missing parts of her soul.
 
She pushed herself up on the pillows to savor
her recollections of the time with Mathew.
 
The evening before meandered into more than
Callie
expected and yet he stayed a total gentleman, allowing her a
better understanding of his attitude towards her.
 

She wanted them to discover each other as friends with the promise
of becoming more.
 
Right before the
gathering of grapes started,
she
decided
to ask him to go with her and Susannah for a morning at the zoo.
 
Despite her need to become whole after her
years in what she now accepted as a loveless union, she yearned for more
attentions from Mathew.

The scholar in him appealed to her.
 
His love of Latin
and
English words
was
integral to him, but not to wield the
words
as weapons the way John Henry did to demonstrate his intellectual
superiority.
 
Mathew’s love of language
was an entrancement with how words sounded, their derivations, and their
meanings.
 
He collected words the way her
uncle accumulated choice bottles of wine, then shared them like treasures with
friends and family.

Since moving back to
Oregon,
she decided it would be best for Susannah, and for herself, to stay with her
Uncle Rick and Aunt Sassy.
 
Their house
was large and
sprawling,
and her aunt and
uncle seemed delighted to have the two of them around.
 
Susan was enrolled in the local
school,
and Callie would drive here there and
pick her up each day.

Her Uncle Rick
was involving
her more with running the vineyard.
 
Callie found herself wavering on studying for a doctorate in Fine
Arts.
 
The flowing fields of grapes
wrapped around her as if the slightly scratchy leaves formed a warm
wooly
blanket providing a refuge where she
could come to grips with her issues, recover and grow.
 

After
breakfast
Callie walked with Rick through the estate’s cellars where their wine aged
before stopping in a small office.
 
Once
there, they reviewed the chronicles of the annual crops with entries for each
numbered oak barrel, its source, the vintage, and any tasting info.
 
Rick first explained the inventory and showed
her how to understand the handwritten logs.
 

“Would you consider computerizing your records?” Callie
asked.

“Add that challenge to your tasks for after crush,” Rick
said, nodding at her meaningfully.

“I am not a technical whiz.”
 
The years she had missed by not working left her without the skills for
automating the recordkeeping.
 
Even so,
she remained glad she had devoted time to Susannah in her formative years.

“
Talk
with Steve,”
Rick said.
 
“He plans to put software in
place next year.
 
He calls himself a
technogeek and those two buddies of his up in Portland founded a technology
startup.
 
Ivy ran a big services
operation that relied on complex programs.
 
Lots of resources next door.”

She nodded, reluctant to reveal how little she understood
about computers.
 

“Callie, I’ve been considering your role here,” Rick
continued.
 
“How about signing on as my
general manager?
 
The vineyard will pay
you a small
salary,
and you will accrue
equity in the
estate
.
 
If all this works out, over time you could
progress to a full
partner.
 
W
hen I’m ready to spend more time lingering
over sunsets, you will take over the operations.”

“I have no business know-how,” Callie said, as the slight
bit of self-confidence she gained from splitting up with John Henry crept away.

“That I can teach you.
 
You learn quickly. You love Lindquist
Estates,
and I want to leave this place as a legacy.
 
Of all my diverse business ventures over the years, this one gives me
the most satisfaction. I will pay for you to get an advanced degree in
viniculture.”

 
“Shouldn’t your
children do this?”

“Callie, they don’t give a darn about my life work.
 
Their eyes are focused only on how much money
they will inherit. They don’t love this place, the vines or the wines
produced.
 
You do.
 
If we are lucky, Susannah will want to sign
on too when she grows up.
 
Just so you
know, I have earmarked the bulk of my other business interests and investments
to be left to them, once Sassy and I are both gone.
  
Some smaller bequests will go to relatives
of Sassy’s.