put a case aside for you as well as the extra bottles. You can pick them up on your next trip through town. When do you think that will be? I’ve come to look forward to your visits, and though I don’t email on a daily basis, I’m apparently falling into the habit.
We’ve been busy with the harvest, but for me, there’s been a big change. Since I saw you only two weeks ago, Gabe and I got engaged! Because you two knew each other in high school, sharing the news with you was fine with him.
Katia groaned. “Not you, too! Is this some conspiracy?” She exhaled deeply, hoping to rid her cells of her growing envy. She read further.
Honestly, I’ve never been into the white-dress thing, though nearly all my girlfriends are. Frankly, Gabe and I are talking about eloping. Or a seriously small wedding. Don’t say a word—not that you know that many people here anymore! We just don’t see any point in waiting another week, to be honest. Who knows, by the time you come through Indian Lake again, I may be married!
And thank you for asking about my grandfather’s health. He’s doing amazingly well. I can’t believe it, to be honest.
The reason we’re still up is because we just got back from driving an order into town. It was last minute and our customer can be rather demanding when he wants to be. Actually, it’s pretty exciting for us in Indian Lake. Austin McCreary—you probably wouldn’t have known him when you lived here since I think he’s quite a few years older than us. But anyway, we’re excited because he decided to build a car museum on the south side of town. He’s giving a big show-and-tell for the City Council, the Mayor and the Northwest Indiana Tourism Board members and officers. Should be around fifty people. Actually, I’m going to bartend for him, which is another chance to get our wines advertised and “out there.” But Grandpa is fine. He’ll be so pleased when I tell him that our wines were such a hit at your party.
Let me know when you’ll be coming through town. I don’t want to miss you!
Fondly,
Liz
Katia threw back the covers and shot out of bed as if she’d been set on fire. She raked her fingers through her long hair and pulled it tightly away from her face. Any thoughts of sleep were distant.
“This isn’t happening. Austin?”
Katia paced at the end of her bed and then left the bedroom. She went straight to the kitchen and poured a tall glass of milk, took out a full bowl of chocolate mousse and sat at her small table. Her mind raced as she shoved the mousse into her mouth.
She’d made four trips through Indian Lake and hadn’t once thought about Austin. Oh, no. Instead, tonight, when I practically felt as if I was having a heart attack... Now he comes back to haunt me.
She knocked back a big slug of milk. A car museum. Humph. What’s that all about, Austin? As if you need a museum.
Katia finished off the mousse and swallowed the last of the milk. The dishwasher was still running, so she put her dishes in the sink.
Padding quietly into the living room, she sank onto the sofa. The truth was that Indian Lake and Austin McCreary were part of her past. All these years that she’d been in Chicago, working toward her dream of becoming a partner at Carter and Associates, she’d barely thought about her childhood. It was her job and the need to go beyond Chicago to find clients—not nostalgia—that had led her back to Indian Lake this summer. She’d stumbled upon Crenshaw Vineyards, and her new friendship with Liz was the reason she’d returned on several occasions.
Katia had stuffed her past deep down inside her, refusing to bring those shadows into the light. She knew all too well that it could be dangerous to allow those memories to rise to the surface.
Katia had grown up in a mansion in Indian Lake filled with elegant antiques. Katia’s mother, Stephania, had been the housekeeper, but Katia had paid attention to every nuance of Hanna and Daniel McCreary’s lifestyle. Because Stephania had been responsible for overseeing the McCrearys’ everyday schedule, as well as holiday events and dinner parties, Katia had eased into whatever job needed doing, from sous chef to table decorator to bartender. Before Katia had hit her teens, she’d learned about wines from Mr. McCreary. Katia had developed a sharp palate, which she believed was even better than Austin’s at the time.
Austin was three years older than Katia. She hadn’t seen him since the summer she was sixteen, when she and her mother had left Indian Lake. That was the summer Katia had known for certain that Austin had finally fallen in love with her. She’d been in love with him since the day she and her mother had moved into the McCreary mansion when she was only seven years old.
Katia’s parents were immigrants from Russia. Her father had been a mason and tile layer until his death in a truck accident on the South Side of Chicago. Katia’s mother, Stephania, spoke very little English and had never worked in her life before her husband’s death. A friend from their church had told Stephania she knew of two people looking for a full-time housekeeper. Stephania had applied for both jobs, but Hanna McCreary had wanted a live-in housekeeper, and Stephania couldn’t turn down the offer of free room and board for her and Katia.
Daniel McCreary owned a large auto-parts manufacturing plant and a retail store in Indian Lake. That same year, he had signed a very large corporate contract, which required him to spend more hours at the plant and less time at home with his wife and son. Hanna was the president of three charities and overwhelmed with her duties.
Stephania and Katia lived in the rear rooms on the first floor with their own entrance at the back, next to the driveway that led to one of three large old carriage houses. These buildings had been converted into garages to house Daniel’s collection of antique cars.
When they were kids, Austin often treated Katia like a pest and did his best to pretend, especially around his school friends, that she wasn’t anyone special to him. But in the long summer evenings when the light refused to fade and children’s attentions were not easily occupied, Austin had sought Katia out for tennis matches on the family clay courts, a swim in the pool, games of chess or Monopoly when it rained. She was his partner when his mother had forced him to take dancing lessons, and she had held a foil and worn thick cotton armor when he’d learned to fence.
Even then, Katia had known that she was only a substitute playmate for Austin, someone to stand in when his father was too busy to see him, but she didn’t care. She thought Austin walked through the stars at night and skated on sunbeams in the day. In her eyes, he could do no wrong. When Austin was with her, he was happy, carefree and inquisitive. She didn’t care that he shunned her as a “servant” when he was trying to impress his school friends, though at times, their barbs pierced the edges of her feelings. Katia believed that Austin would be her hero and come to her rescue if she ever truly needed it. She believed they were closer than any two people alive and only she knew the “real” Austin.
When Austin was fifteen and she was twelve, Daniel McCreary died. Gone was the man Austin had revered and tried to emulate. She remembered eavesdropping on dinner conversations where Daniel would herald the accomplishments of his grandfather, Ambrose McCreary, who had been one of the pioneer automobile designers at the turn of the century in Indianapolis. He’d talked to his son about Duesenbergs, Auburn Cords and Studebakers. Names from the past, connoting elegance and innovation. Katia had been enthralled as Daniel had spun his dreams of manufacturing replacement parts for antique cars. Austin had continually nagged his father for more stories about Ambrose and the kind of mind that he’d had. More than once, Katia had heard Austin say, “I should have been born back then. I could have been great like him.”
Though
