Laura Drake - Twice in a Blue Moon

WHENTHEANTIQUEclock over the mantel gonged twice, Indigo dropped the floor brush into the bucket and pulled off her rubber gloves. Two in the morning and I still have to make the bed. She sat back on her heels at the edge of the bathroom floor, then pushed to her feet. At least she had a fresh bed to fall into. She dug a knuckle into the cramping muscle in the small of her back. She’d earned it hauling the mattress in from its airing on the porch.

Her hard work had paid off. She walked into the great room of Uncle Bob’s cabin, proud of the warm glow of lamplight on clean paneling. Someone would have to be hired to haul away the mountain of crap she’d tossed out the back door, but she’d worry about that tomorrow.

Burnished copper-bottom pots once again hung where they belonged over the stove. The starched gingham curtains were pulled back from a window that worked as a mirror, reflecting the room. After a rocky start, losing her breakfast after touring the bathroom this afternoon, her mood had lightened with every room she restored. Her body ached, and she might have to burn these clothes, but she’d been right—this was her job to do.

She ran a hand over the wooden grapes in the hand-carved mantel. “Welcome home, Uncle Bob.”

* * *

ATEXACTLYNINE-THIRTY that morning, a woman strode through the door of the tasting room, two women in her wake.

Sooondra. She was willowy as a Lladró porcelain. Her perfectly straight ash-blond hair fell to the middle of a butt sculpted, no doubt, by hundreds of Pilates sessions. Her tasteful pencil skirt and crisp white tailored blouse were all business, and the high heels that tapped a staccato beat across the wood floor made the elegant line of her leg even longer. Her face was a juxtaposition of soft and hard that made it difficult to look away. Wide-spaced elongated eyes over sleek, soft cheeks ended in a chin that could slice paper. Stopping in front of Indigo, she flipped a sheaf of hair over her shoulder with a smooth, precise move. She looked like an Afghan Hound at a Westminster show: aloof, entitled, untouchable.

She sniffed and glanced around. “Well, it’s still standing.”

Well, la-de-da. Ms. Perky Ass has arrived. Indigo gritted her teeth in what she hoped looked like a smile. “It’s a bit rough, but the cleaning crew won’t be here until next week, so our first job will be getting this place ready for business.”

Sondra looked down her long nose. “You do not expect serving staff to do manual labor.”

Indigo shrugged, holding her hands out to the empty room. “I don’t see any customers to serve, do you?” She dusted her hands, then offered one to shake. “I’m Indigo Blue. You’re Sondra, obviously. Will you introduce me to your coworkers?”

Sondra shook the ends of Indigo’s fingers, then turned, displaying the women behind her with a game show model’s flourish. “This is Natalie Baddorf.” A petite brunette in soft camel slacks and a white blouse just like Sondra’s, tipped her head. “She’s a wine professional and server. Her expertise is eclipsed only by my own.” She turned to her other minion. “And this is Becky Stiles, the salesperson for the gift shop, and my cashier.”

My cashier?

Becky looked like a copper penny among diamonds, a fresh-faced redhead with a dusting of freckles across her nose. She smiled then burst forward to give Indigo’s hand a firm shake. “I’m glad to be back, Ms. Blue.”

This could be a strong team. Sondra and Natalie’s expertise and high class would impress the wine aficionados, and Becky’s charm and girl-next-door looks would keep newbies from being intimidated. “I’m glad to meet you all. We’re going to have to roll up our sleeves because it’s up to us, along with our new manager, to turn The Tippling Widow into a winery Uncle Bob would be proud of.” She lifted from the bar three dark green aprons with the winery’s logo across the breast: the name in script, with the I ’s in Tippling and Widow the stem of a wineglass. “And we’re starting today.” She handed out the aprons, then slipped the last one over her own head, crossed the strings behind her and tied them in front.

Sondra’s chin lifted, and she eyed the apron in her fingers with an arched brow.

This was the moment Indigo had worried over. And over. If Sondra wouldn’t follow orders, this wasn’t going to work. What would happen then, Indigo didn’t want to contemplate. Uncle Bob had trusted these women, and Indigo didn’t have the knowledge to even interview for these positions. She stilled herself, though she could almost hear the stress humming through her like electricity in a high line.

Natalie and Becky stood holding the aprons, watching their boss’s cue for what to do next.

Sondra gave a theatrical sigh. “We can’t work in this filth, regardless.” She dropped the apron on the bar. “I won’t need this to supervise.” She glanced at her charges and clapped her hands. “Well, ladies, what are you waiting for? We don’t have a minute to spare if this tasting room is going to be fit for customers.”

Barney’s collar jingled when he trotted into the room.

“Is that a dog ?” Sondra made it sound like cockroach .

Barney skidded to a stop at Indigo’s feet, and she leaned over to play with his ears. “This is our mascot, Barnabas. Barney to his friends.”

“Oh, how cute!” Becky bent to pet him.

“Do not touch that. You cannot have an animal in the serving room. It’s a clear health-code violation.”

“It’s an FDA recommendation, not a hard rule. It’s up to the owner’s discretion.” She straightened and leveled a stare at Sondra. “And I’m the owner.”

The area at the base of Sondra’s nostrils went white. Her gray eyes went dark. She stared back.

No one moved, even at the sound of boots clumping across the wooden porch.

“Hey, look who’s here! My old pal Sandy.” Danovan strode up and enveloped Sondra in a huge hug. “I knew there was a beautiful woman missing from my life.”

Sondra air-kissed both his cheeks and smiled up at him. “Danovan DiCarlo, you big flirt. I should have known that if a woman inherited a winery, you’d be working there.”

He released Sondra as if she’d just scalded him. When he turned to Indigo, his cheeks were pink. “Reporting for duty, Ms. Blue. Er—Indigo.”

He wore nothing special: suede boots, chinos and an ivory cotton button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled on his tanned forearms. But he still managed to look like a cover model with his sexy eyes, a crooked smile and the testosterone that he wore like cologne.

Indigo pulled herself from the shock of seeing Sondra tease. “Morning, Danovan. Let’s go to my office to talk.” She turned to Sondra and her entourage. “Nice meeting you, ladies. We’ll catch up later.” She led the way across the floor to the wooden door marked Employees Only. He was there to open it before she could reach for the handle.

She felt back in control once she sat behind her desk. Danovan took the office chair. “You’re a friend of Sondra’s?”

The incredulity must have bled into her tone, because he smiled. “She and I worked together at another winery. Sandy’s a pussycat.”

She blew back her bangs. “So is a panther, but I wouldn’t want to try to pet one.”

He laughed.

With his charm, he probably could tame a wildcat. “Let’s get started.” She gathered her bullet list of questions from the desk. “Since I’m not even sure where to begin, I think it best if I just shadow you for now, don’t you?”

“That’s a good idea.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I’d like to inspect the vines first, then move on to the production facility. Before anything else happens, I need to assess where we are so we can put together a plan to get The Widow back on her feet. All right?”