Once Tasted: A Silver Creek Novel (39 page)

“You’ve had ten hours of utter hell, haven’t you?” she asked, stepping back.

“Yes. Yes, I have,” Mia admitted quietly.

“The second we got the news, Roo and Jeff whipped up some food for you, your crew, and the officers. They wanted to do something—anything. There are bean-and-butternut-squash quesadillas and breakfast burritos and corn muffins. And coffee.”

“Wow,” she said, too weary to smile. “Thank you.”

“I can’t imagine you feel like eating, but you need to. Maybe this will reinvigorate your appetite: While Roo and Jeff were cooking, I drove over to the animal hospital. Bruno’s hanging in there, Mia. He’s still really weak but his condition appears to have stabilized. Cat Lundquist wants to keep him under her observation until he’s out of the woods, though.”

With a cry of gladness, Mia threw her arms about her. “Thank you, Quinn. I so needed to hear this.”

Quinn hugged her back. “I know you did. I’m sorry for all that you’re going through, Mia.”

“What’s with the hug fest?” Reid asked.

Quinn and she broke apart and Mia turned to Reid, wiping her eyes as she did. “Quinn went to the animal hospital. Bruno’s hanging in there.”

His smile temporarily banished the harsh lines stamping his face. “That’s good news. Really good news.”

She nodded. “Yes. Where did you go off to just now?” she asked.

“I was checking something out for Armstrong.”

“Oh. I see.” She knew she’d have to get used to it, but it hurt that he wasn’t forthcoming.

Before she could muster the courage to ask what he’d been checking, he spoke. “I need to touch base with him. Quinn, take care of her, okay?”

She nodded. “Sure thing. Come on, Mia, let’s get some food and coffee in you. It’ll work wonders.”

The officers and the insurance agent had gone, leaving the Knowleses to enter the vandalized winery with Mia and her crew. It was a silent and bleak tour; the scent that lingered in the air told the story. That, and the dark stain that ringed the interior walls of the processing room, marking exactly how high the flood of wine had reached.

The cellar was as heartbreaking a sight. Hacked at by a criminal hand, the stoppers littering the floor had then drifted like flotsam when the barrels were rolled, their contents dumped.

Mia had attended funerals that were cheerier. But “funereal” was the only way to describe how it felt as Adele, Daniel, and Quinn shook her staff’s hands and offered her grim hugs before departing.

Reid remained to take up one of the mops alongside Johnny and Leo; Mia, Paul, and Roberto armed themselves with sponges and hoses. The five of them set to work. It took two hours of continuous scrubbing, hosing, and mopping before the winery looked as it had before the night’s destruction.

With a glaring difference: The cellar was empty. And Mia, Leo, and Johnny had checked the six tanks. At most, a tenth of the fermented wine remained.

“I can’t believe this,” Leo said. His usual mellow vibe had disappeared hours ago. “There’s hardly enough to take a bath in.”

“The amount is irrelevant. I told Thomas we’d press whatever remained,” Mia said.

“Then a press is what we damned well will do,” Johnny said, his voice as determined as his expression. “They better catch the motherfucker that did this, though,” he added.

“They will,” Reid said. “He’s not going to get away with it.” Like Mia, he’d taken care not to mention Jay’s name to her crew at any point. Turning to her, he continued, “I have to tend to some stuff at the ranch. I’ll be by tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, refusing to break down and ask him to stay. “Thank you, Reid. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

He gave her a long, inscrutable look. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he said, and he shook his head. “Don’t work too much longer. You’ve already put in a fifteen-hour day.”

Leo had been right. The amount of wine pressed was pitifully small, enough to fill only three barrels. The men were as silent exiting the winery as they’d been entering it.

After Paul and Roberto drove off, Mia turned to Leo and Johnny. “Guys, I want to thank you. This has been without question the worst day of my life. I don’t know what I would have done without your support.”

“Hell, Mia, you know we love this place—the terroir and the grapes—and the way you and Thomas respect Pinot Noir,” Leo said.

“Yeah, so don’t even think about telling us that we should go off and find jobs at some other winery,” Johnny added.

She sighed and mustered a small smile. “You knew
that was coming, huh? I could call Andrew Schroeder at Crescent Ridge. It’s a good vineyard. They try to be true to the grape. I know they’d be happy to add you to their cellar crew—” She stopped, because Johnny was shaking his head.

“Mia, we don’t want to leave. Now more than ever, this winery is what we care about,” he said. “We’re not going to let this keep us down.”

“Hell no,” Leo agreed. “Those barrels are going to be the best damned wine the three of us can make.”

“Okay, then. But—”

“No buts,” Johnny interrupted.

“
Mañana
, Mia,” Leo said, with some of his old cheer.

“Sleep in, at least,” Mia told them. “We all need it.”

“We’ll take that into consideration.” Leo swung his leg over his bike.

M
IA SHOWERED
,
STANDING
under the hot stream until the water ran cold, which actually felt good. It rejuvenated her enough that, once she’d toweled off, she was able to drag some clothes on and braid her hair into a ponytail before grabbing her keys and heading out to her truck.

Unsurprisingly, the animal hospital was more crowded at this hour. Waiting next to their owners was a quivering spaniel, some kind of terrier breed that Quinn could surely have identified, and two cat carriers. Deep, growling meows emanated from one of them.

Mia went to the front desk. A different assistant was behind it.

“I’m Mia Bodell. I’m Bruno’s owner. Dr. Lundquist said I could come and see him.”

“Oh, yes. Just follow me and we’ll put you in an exam room. He’s able to walk a bit.”

She’d settled herself in a plastic chair and had finished reading all the charts and animal posters hanging on the wall when the door opened. Bruno stumbled woozily toward her. Mia slid off her chair and opened her arms. He walked up to her, put his muzzle on her shoulder,
and then sank down with a groan, too weak to stand any longer.

“We removed the IV about an hour ago. That’s why his leg is bandaged,” the vet assistant said, pointing to the gauze. Around the gauze was a larger square of shaved fur.

“He doesn’t need the intravenous medication?” she asked, running her hands over Bruno’s large body. Less than twenty-four hours had passed, yet he seemed so much thinner. And now that his head had found her lap, he hardly moved.

“The medication he needs, K1, can be administered in pill form—he’ll be on it for some time—and Dr. Lundquist would like to see how he does off the IV, if his vital signs hold steady.”

Mia nodded in understanding. “And if he does okay, can I bring him home tomorrow?”

“I’m sure that’s what Dr. Lundquist hopes.”

“Good,” Mia whispered, stroking Bruno’s domed head.

“I’ll let you and Bruno comfort each other. Just knock on the door to the surgery room when you need to leave and I’ll take him back to his bed,” the assistant said.

“I will. Thank you.”

When the door closed with a soft
click
, she leaned over him and buried her face in the silky ruff of his neck. “Oh, Bruno, stay strong for me, buddy.”

Reid was in Grant Hayes’s office. Of the back offices in the main lodge, Grant’s was located closest to the reservations desk. Problems with guests didn’t arise all that often, but when they did, it helped for Grant to be on the spot as quickly as possible.

Reid had showered and shaved and downed two cups
of coffee in the kitchen with Roo and Jeff and their sous-chefs and staff before meeting with Grant. He was feeling slightly more human-like, if still as pissed off as ever.

“So far, Armstrong and his men haven’t been able to locate Jay. They’re not sure he’s still in the area. In L.A. he’ll have dozens of ratholes he can go to ground in,” Reid said.

“But you’re not convinced he’s left.” Grant posed it as a statement rather than a question.

“That’s right, I’m not. Jay’s always been the kind of guy who gets off seeing firsthand the damage and pain he’s caused. The temptation to witness how badly he’s hurt Mia would be irresistible.” The anger simmering inside him began to boil once more.

“As you requested, I’ve got the entrance to Ms. Bodell’s vineyard covered. My men have Jay Bodell’s description and the color, make, and model of his car. They’ll be watching for any other unknown vehicles that turn in to her road, in the event he’s ditched his car.”

“I doubt he’ll have done that. Quinn told me it was a BMW. It would hurt him to give up a slick set of wheels.” Unfortunately for Jay, Reid was going to make sure he felt a whole lot of hurt, and very soon.

After Jay was caught, then Reid would confront Mia about what had happened to them. “Confront” wasn’t quite the right word, but he couldn’t think of another one right now. He was hurting and tired, not the state of mind he wanted to be in when trying to reason with the woman who had his heart and didn’t seem to realize it.

And if he felt exhausted and bruised emotionally, Mia was all that, and raised to the power of three. He’d kept an eye on her all day, worried she would collapse under the force of the calamities she’d been dealt. She hadn’t.
She was a hell of a lot stronger than he’d ever imagined. He wanted to tell her that—and a hundred other things besides.

“I’ll ask the men on watch to alert both of us the minute they see anything,” Grant said.

“Good. I appreciate your help in this.” He rose and noticed a list of names on Grant’s desk. A number of them were crossed out, some in red ink, some in blue. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the sheet of paper.

“Pete Williams sent me a list of people who’ve shown an interest in working here as wranglers. I’ve crossed out some who didn’t meet our qualifications. Mrs. Knowles has nixed a number, as well. Sometimes it’s difficult to figure out what her criteria are, but she’s a smart woman. I trust she’ll choose the right person for the job.”

The comment had Reid wondering exactly what his mother was looking for in the applicants’ profiles, but before he could ask Grant, a knock sounded.

“Come in,” Grant called.

Reid’s father stuck his head inside the office. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“That’s okay, Dad,” Reid said. “Grant and I were just going over the security surveillance for the vineyard until Jay Bodell is caught.”

“So the sheriff’s department hasn’t tracked him down?”

“Apparently not.”

Daniel looked as if he wanted to punch something—or someone. Reid recognized the emotion all too well.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Knowles?” Ex-army, Grant was more formal than most of the staff, many of whom were on a first-name basis with their employers.

“Actually, Grant, I was looking for Reid. If I could have a word?”

“Sure.” To Grant, Reid said, “Thanks again. Let’s stay in contact.”

“Understood.”

Reid followed his father down the carpeted hall to his office. His mother had decorated all the rooms in the main lodge—public and private. Here she’d hung enlarged photographs of the ranch as it had evolved over the decades.

The space suited his father, but Daniel used it only for business meetings. He far preferred to be down at the corrals or out in the pastures, either astride Kane or perched on one of his tractors.

Reid dropped into the chair opposite his father’s.

“What’s up, Dad?”

“Hell of a day.” His father rubbed the side of his face wearily.

“Yeah. Unbelievable.”

“Reid, I was just on the phone with Thomas. He’s real worried. He’s lost two years of revenue. That’s a devastating hit for him to absorb under any circumstance.”

“I know. It’s going to be a rough ride.”

“Yeah, and that scares him. The money he took for himself may not cover his needs, even when the 2012 Pinot hits the market. He’s not sure he’ll be able to pay the staff to keep the winery going. Land prices have started to rise again. He’s thinking he’ll have to sell.”