she had little to smile about.
There was no way he was risking that smile disappearing forever. “Did Flynn pick up pizza?”
Tracy nodded.
“Come on.”
They walked along the river to Flynn’s grandfather’s house. Crickets sang a gentle chorus as they passed. Shadows lengthened and began blending with the night.
Flynn and Slade waited for them on the wraparound porch, watching the river go by and drinking beer. After days trying to generate enthusiasm for the winery in Harmony Valley, Will and his friends took refuge in the weathered white rattan chairs on the outdoor porch.
The Jeopardy! jingle drifted out the screen door. Moths fluttered around the porch light.
Tracy perched on a redwood bench and looked out toward the river, but she wasn’t watching the calm waters. Her gaze was unfocused.
“Pizza’s in the kitchen. Italian sausage or pepperoni.” Flynn pulled a beer out of a small cooler and handed it to Will as he came up the steps. His Rolling Stones T-shirt was wrinkled, as usual. Reddish-brown hair hung to his shoulders beneath a Giants baseball cap, as usual. “Which musical did Rose perform tonight?”
Will opened his beer and leaned against the porch railing. “I’m not sure.” Two months ago, Will would’ve been hard-pressed to name any show tunes. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
Flynn readjusted his Giants cap and grinned at Tracy. “Do you remember when Rose did a one-woman rendition of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang for elementary school?” He waited until she nodded. She, Emma and Flynn had been in the same grade in school. After Emma, Flynn was Tracy’s closest friend. “It was so funny, I thought I was going to wet my pants. And then Rose picked me and a couple other kids for the finale. I got to sit in this cardboard car she’d made. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Didn’t matter that I only knew the chorus. For a moment, I was a man of the world.” Flynn sighed. He’d been dreaming of visiting all the places his grandfather had served overseas ever since he was a kid.
Tracy’s laughter was soft and all too brief. They knew Flynn wanted to take his grandfather around the world with him, but Edwin’s heart was failing.
The river sidled past and crickets chirped. Inside the house, the Jeopardy! buzzer did its off-tone double beep.
Will wished Tracy would say something, start a conversation, bring up a positive childhood memory.
“Why don’t you know which production Rose put on?” Slade stretched his long legs across the porch, clasping his hands over the ends of his tie. As their financial guru, Slade believed in living the leader look 24/7. According to him, you never knew who might be willing to invest in their next big idea, so he had to look legit. “What happened?”
Will didn’t want to answer, not in front of Tracy, but it would be a bigger issue if he didn’t. “Rose’s granddaughter showed up.”
“Emma?” Tracy sat up so quickly the bench she was on nearly tipped over.
Will couldn’t tell if Tracy wanted to say more or not. She wrinkled her slim blond eyebrows when she struggled for a word, the same way she did when she was unhappy. They all waited for her to say more, but she went mute.
Slade smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in his slacks and then fiddled with his tie. Will had a theory about those ties. They were a gauge of Slade’s mood—a bold, bright color meant he was content and focused on results, an artistic pattern signaled something stormy or melancholy and on black-tie days Will made sure to avoid asking Slade for anything. Today’s tie was a bright orange diagonal strip. That boded well for the winery. “Was this a planned visit? Or does Emma know Tracy’s home?”
“She knows.” Will continued to study his sister. “She wants to visit Tracy.”
Tracy blew out a breath. “I don’t...don’t.”
“You don’t want to see her,” Will finished, greatly relieved.
“No.” Her brows furrowed. “I. Don’t. Want. You. To—”
“You don’t want me to let her visit.” Will tried again.
“No!” Tracy stood, growling in frustration.
“Let her get it out.” Flynn leaned forward.
She shook her head. “I don’t. Want you. To...to...” Tracy glanced up and to the left. The doctors had told them when she looked in that direction she was trying to access memory for the words she needed. Her hands circled like upside-down eggbeaters. “Stop. Emma.”
“Are you sure?” Will set his beer down and moved closer to capture Tracy’s hands. Her delicate hands. “She’s the reason you’re like this.” Broken. Fragile.
Tracy blinked back tears. “Let me. Decide.” She tore free of his grip and ran down the steps, across the verdant grass.
“She needs space.” Flynn held Will back when he started off after her. “It’s got to be frustrating.”
Will shrugged off his friend’s hand, grasping his beer by the neck to keep a hold on the resentment churning in his gut. If only Emma hadn’t come back. If only Emma hadn’t talked Tracy into going to Las Vegas six months ago. “Tracy doesn’t like me telling her what to do.” Wanting to follow his sister but knowing she needed space, Will anchored his beer on the porch railing.
“I’m going to make an unpopular suggestion,” Slade said. “You’re worried about Tracy, and Flynn’s worried about Edwin’s recovery from his heart attack. This project has gotten too complicated. In addition to the winery we’re opening a restaurant, a tasting room and a gift shop? Maybe we should—”
“We’re ten miles east of Cloverdale,” Will cut in, trying to hammer out his frustration. “No one will drive forty miles north of the heart of Sonoma wine country on a twisting, narrow road simply for a glass of our wine. It’s too much trouble. We need to make Harmony Valley a destination. Build something out here besides our winery. I’d love for someone in town to open a day spa or a bed-and-breakfast.”
“A gelato parlor or a bakery. Maybe even a coffee shop.” Flynn had a huge sweet tooth. “What I wouldn’t give for a latte every morning.”
“Why don’t we stick to what we know and design a new app?” Slade fiddled with his tie.
“Take off your tie,” Will snapped, his frustration finding a new target. “It represents everything we aren’t. We’re supposed to be a lean, independent, creative firm, able to turn our talents toward a new opportunity on a dime. Not a suited-up, slow-moving corporation.”
Slade leaned forward. The old wicker chair groaned in protest. “It sounds like you’re saying you don’t want to be responsible for employees and buildings and a harvest. I agree. Let’s move on.”
“I can’t move on.” Will passed his beer bottle from one hand to the other. He hadn’t told either of them that he wanted Tracy to run the winery. Slade would argue that a junior advertising executive wasn’t qualified to manage their business. Flynn would argue Tracy didn’t drink wine. It didn’t matter. He needed to tell them. But when Will opened his mouth, he said, “You’re the one who said we
