So Far Into You (19 page)

‘Okay, Seth. No problem, I'll pass that message on.'

‘Thanks, Maggie,' Seth said, and there was a grin on his face as he broke the connection. A plan always made him feel better.

Buzzing down the window, he hung his arm out the opening and let the warm wind buffet his hand. Thinking about the dogs. Thinking about Remy.

He felt good. For the first time in a long time, he felt good.

Then he thought of all the things he had to discuss with his mother, and his mood dimmed.

Chapter 16

Remy made coffee and escaped to the garden after lunch, past Breeze who lay slumped on the pavers, head toward the gate, like a waiting sphinx.

She walked across the lawn, feeling its soft give beneath her bare toes. She'd washed the dust out of her hair and changed into a long loose skirt and white shirt after her brick-laying stint, and now she sat on the garden bench with her coffee, tipped her hat over her face and let the sun dry her hair as she tried to think things through.

Carefully, she put her fingers to her lips and pressed, as if she might trace Seth's kiss. Then she took her hand away.

Since she moved to South Australia, she'd had a few opportunities to date some of the local men. She'd only taken one guy up on the offer and that had turned out to be a disaster.

She remembered it clearly. Andrew Straw was the tradesman she contracted to repair her roof. He was charming in a roguish way and she'd thought he might be fun. He'd taken her to dinner then to see a play at the Stirling Theatre.

Unfortunately, he'd thought paying for her meal earned him the night in her bed. When Remy knocked him back, he said he understood and no hard feelings. The next day, he left a tarpaulin off her roof. A thunderstorm ruined half her insulation, not to mention part of the ceiling, and in the insurance claim nightmare that followed communicating with Straw became impossible.

He denied any negligence. He blamed the freak storm.

After that men stopped asking. Remy was sure Straw had warned them off. It didn't matter. She had enough to keep her busy with her house and the vineyard and her gardens, and in the earlier days doing puppy school with Breeze.

Seth coming back into her life had proved one thing to her. She was drifting. Her life had no colour. Sure there were pinks and whites and lilacs and every shade of green, but there was no screaming yellow or red or orange or purple. All she had was washed-out colours and faded hues. No patterns, no squiggles, no swirls. Nothing that clashed, and it was so long since she'd done anything imaginative or bold.

No wonder Seth's return had her heart beating faster. She was alone, and lonely, and it didn't take Einstein to know how vulnerable that made her to the romance of a reunion of sorts with Seth.

At least if she recognised the attraction with Seth she could fight it. Five years ago he'd snuck up on her with a daring rescue and a bushwalk, and a picnic and that kiss … but she wasn't that girl now. She wasn't going to be pushed around—not one shove more—by Seth Lasrey or his family. Five years dancing to that tune was long enough.

Breeze whined, and got to her feet.

It was then Remy caught the engine hum Breeze's keen ears had already heard. The dog wagged her tail and whimpered as the engine noise neared, then cut off. A car door opened and closed.

Hell and Tommy.
This place was like Grand Central Station today.

***

Occhilupo launched himself off the ute the second Seth unclicked his chain. Seth was a little slower. By the time he'd rounded the verandah and could see into Remy's backyard, she'd come floating out of the jungle like some barefoot wood nymph: apple-green coffee cup in her hand, white shirt flowing, floppy straw hat shading her face.

He thought if she'd smiled at him then and promised to spirit him away to the deep dark forest … he would have followed her siren call and never thought about phone sex, or poisoned vineyards, or blackmail, ever again.

Only she didn't smile.

Remy stepped from the circle of lawn to the pavers. ‘Twice in one day, Seth? That's some kind of record.'

‘Yeah, must seem that way.'

‘Did you forget to tell me something?' She was cold, like a statue, and any progress Seth thought they'd made that morning faded.

‘No. Not really. There's a favour I want to ask you. I thought of it when I was driving to the Hackett's. It's a long shot though. I'll understand if you say no.'

The mug in her hand twitched. ‘Asking is free.'

‘Can I come in?'

‘If you want.'

Seth blocked Occhilupo at the gate, letting himself in before the dog could charge through, and latched it shut behind him.

‘It's a bit out of left field, but what I'd like to know is: would you be prepared to take Occhilupo for me, while I'm here?'

‘Take him?'

‘Keep him here. I brought him with me because I promised Blake I'd look after him, and because I knew I'd be here a while, but it's not much of a life for him on a chain all day. I was thinking: he knows you, and you know Am Staffs. It's obvious Breeze is happy and healthy. She's in great nick.'

Like any pet owner the world over, Remy puffed in pride when he complimented her dog. The puff didn't last long. ‘What about at Max and Sue's old house? Couldn't he stay there?'

‘I offered the house to Rina—'

‘I'm sure she'd share.'

‘She doesn't like dogs, and Lewis Carney has the cottage as part of his package. He doesn't want a dog around. He's got young kids. Occhy freaks his wife out and besides, she's got a cat.'

Remy looked at Breeze, then back at him. ‘She isn't much good with other dogs. I don't know how she'd go … Haven't you met anyone
else
since you've been here who could look after him? Any special friend?' Her voice tailed off and Seth realised by the blush in her face exactly what she was asking.
Was he seeing anyone? And why couldn't that person look after the dog?

‘There's no one I'd feel comfortable leaving Occhy with,' Seth said, turning to where Breeze had her neck arched at the gate, while Occhy pranced on the other side. ‘If you don't want to do it, that's okay. He'll just have to stay at the motel if I can't take him with me.'

‘You're in a motel?'

‘I am.'

‘That's not much of a life for him, and you're coming into vintage. You'll have even less time to spend with him.'

‘She doesn't look too unhappy about him being here, Rem. Should we just see how they go if I let him in?'

‘He's on the other side of the gate, Seth.'

‘Occhy can look after himself.'

‘Okay. Let him in. Let's see the damage. I'll say one thing right now, any injuries, you foot the vet bill.'

‘That's fair. Are you ready?' Seth put his hand on the latch of the gate.

‘Ready.' Remy got out of the way.

He opened the gate and Occhilupo barrelled past his knees. The two dogs stood muzzle to muzzle. They were close to the same height, but Breeze was prettier, still a bundle of muscle but finer somehow. Beside her, Occhilupo looked the canine equivalent of a mafia thug.

Then she yapped and licked at Occhy's jaws. She jumped backwards, nimble as a twenty-kilo flea. He jumped backwards too, rump in the air, tail waving. Then they raced into the garden—Breeze fastest—and two sets of pounding paws and huffing breath faded into the afternoon.

‘See. She's just an over-muscled pussy cat.'

‘She's never done that before,' Remy said, gazing at the spot where the dogs had disappeared, listening for any sound of a fight. ‘She hates other dogs. Every time I took her to the dog shows, she was a royal pain in the arse. I got so many foul looks from other dog owners, you wouldn't believe it.'

‘I never pictured you as the dog show sort.'

‘At puppy school they told me to socialise her with other dogs every chance I got. I figured outside of puppy school, a dog show was the best place to start. There were breeders there with an eye for what makes a good Am Staff, and they liked the way she looked. I got a bit bedazzled for a while because you can sell a puppy for around a $1000 … but they were worried about her temperament, and to be honest after the whole sheep incident, I was worried about her temperament. I didn't persevere with the dog breeding idea for long. She's beautiful with children, but hopeless with animals and it all sounded a bit too … hard.'

‘Sheep incident?' Seth asked.

‘She got through the fence when she was a puppy. She chased Zac's dad's sheep. One of them died in the paddock. This all happened Christmas morning.'

‘How's that for Christmas spirit?'

‘The Williams were very good about it, all things considered.'

‘So what do you think, Rem? Is it okay to leave him with you? I promise Occhy's never chased a sheep.'

She squinted at him, weighing it all up: ‘How long for?'

‘Until vintage is over, or until I'm sure everything at Montgomery is running right,' he said. ‘Then I'll take him back to Margaret River with me.'

‘I'm not scooping his poop.'

Seth laughed, he couldn't help it.

‘I'm serious,' Remy said, severely. ‘Breeze always goes in the same place, by the back fence. Anything else will be his. I'm not scooping it.'

‘Fine.' Seth straightened, watched her for a moment longer. ‘I'll come here after work each day and I'll poop scoop. Do I need to BYO spade?'

‘I have heaps of shovels. Have you got a bowl for him? And what about food? Breeze gets dry food and chicken carcass. Raw chicken.'

‘That's fine. I'll go to the motel after work and get his bowl and whatever food he's got left and I'll bring it back. Okay? I'll pay for him while he's here too. I don't want you to be out of pocket.'

‘Don't worry about it.'

‘We'll talk about it later. I'll be back when I'm finished up at the winery. Thanks, Remy. You've helped me out.'

For the second time that day, Seth said goodbye.

***

Maggie Castle phoned as he was driving back to the winery.

‘Hi Seth, it's Margaret.'

‘Hey, Maggie. What's up?'

‘Lewis wants a word with you this afternoon. How far away are you?'

‘About five minutes. Do you know what he wants?'

‘Not really.' She hesitated, and Seth could picture her looking around to see if anyone was listening. ‘He had an argument with Rina.'

Another one.
There'd been a few. ‘Okay. You'd better get Rina to sit in then. Earliest I can do is three-thirty.'

‘I'll send them an email. Thanks, Seth.'

‘Hey, one thing before you go …'

‘Yes.'

‘You introduce yourself as Margaret on the phone, but everyone calls you Maggie. Do you have a preference?'

She laughed; a pleasant sound, low in his ear. ‘I prefer Margaret to Maggie. Maggie sounds like a magpie.'

‘Okay. Sorry about that, Margaret. Thanks for letting me know.'

‘Thanks for asking. I've been Maggie around here for a long time. It doesn't really bother me.'

‘It's Margaret from now, from me at least. If I stuff up, call me out on it. Okay?'

She said okay, and Seth said: ‘See you soon.'

As he cancelled the hands-free, he frowned. He didn't think of his father that much anymore. Joe was coming up to ten years in the ground, and most of the pictures of his father at his mother's house had been put away. Part of him knew his old man would never have missed something like getting Margaret's name right. His father had been Joseph to Ailsa, and Joe to everyone else.

Joe Lasrey would have asked Margaret what she preferred the day they met, and he'd have remembered. He was just that type of guy.

Seth used to pay that kind of attention. Somewhere in the last five years he'd stopped noticing the little things. Why was that? And what had changed today that made him notice again?

Chapter 17

Lewis Carney had gingerish hair that was thinning on top and a gingerish moustache that clung to his upper lip like the mess from a kid's toffee ice-cream. He was a tall guy, slender, and up until the buyout he'd worn jeans to work every day. Max Montgomery had described him to Seth as a good worker. A winemaker who never groaned about the night shift during vintage or got so high on the whole ‘winemaker' status he forgot how to clean an oak barrel. He was in this game for the long haul, and Max had seen him well rewarded. On that count, Max had seen all his staff well rewarded, which compounded his eventual financial shit-storm. One thing was sure, Carney was a talented winemaker. Otherwise Seth wouldn't have been so keen to keep him on the payroll.

Carney got to Seth's office first, with Rina less than a minute behind. The door wasn't shut and she didn't knock. Seth took one look at his senior winemaker, marching in with a notepad in her hand, and thought: here's trouble.

When she was pissed off, Rina carried it in her mouth and chin. Her lips would tighten like she'd downed a shot of vinegar when she'd asked for lemonade.

Carney took the seat nearest the window, crossed his legs, uncrossed them. The new uniform khakis rode up his hairy shin. Rina took the other chair, near a cabinet that used to hold Max's treasures but now had nothing in it. Seth wasn't a hoarder, nor he did he keep treasures, and this wouldn't be his office for long. When vintage was over and he and Rina let go of the day-to-day, he'd appoint a general manager or operations manager to look after the Montgomery profit centre and he'd visit once a month to keep the lot of them honest. That's how it usually worked.

This latest acquisition was a bit different. This was Lasrey's first interstate expansion and Seth wanted it to go smoothly. It would pave the way for other negotiations he had in the pipeline for South Australia and Victoria come spring.