Michael's Father. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ Sophia?”

      Blake read the anxiety Jennifer tried to hide in her voice and felt sorry for her. Sophia Sinclair was like a grandmother to Jennifer, inviting her to fancy dinners, opening the big house to her when Blake traveled for the winery. It was hard enough for a girl to lose her parents when she was four. Why did the only other woman Jen had bonded with have to die early, as well?

      “It’s a good day.” Blake wished he could tell her Sophia was getting better. “You’re doing your homework with her, right?”

      “Don’t I always?”

      Too late, Blake realized that Cori was here to keep Sophia company and might consider Jen an intruder. Well, too bad. Jennifer was just as much a part of Sophia’s family as Cori was. Sophia and Jennifer shared a special relationship.

      “Don’t put me down!”

      The shrill plea cut through the air, shuddering along Blake’s nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. It was the kid. Whining again. Brush concealed the part of the driveway where Cori’s car was parked, but the boy’s voice definitely came from there.

      “I need to get our suitcases out, Peanut. I can’t do that with one hand.”

      “Houseguests,” Blake warned Jennifer as they rounded the curve of the driveway, hoping his expression communicated that she should behave.

      Jennifer frowned.

      “Can we help you with those?” Blake offered, watching the kid squirm in Cori’s arms. Her dress hiked up again, and he forced his eyes to stay on her face.

      “Mommy, I want to go home,” wailed the kid.

      Cori looked as if she’d rather accept help from her worst enemy than from Blake, but after a moment’s consideration, she nodded.

      “You remember Cori, don’t you, Jen?” Blake asked as he approached, trying to lay the foundation of peace.

      “No. Who are you?” Jen asked sweetly, when Blake knew full well that his sister remembered who Cori was.

      Blake gave his sister a stern glance before looking into Cori’s trunk. He was surprised at what he found. Only two medium, black wheelie-bags—not even an expensive brand but the cheap kind that you got at a discount store—a computer satchel, a sleeping bag and one well-worn, stained backpack.

      Cori introduced herself and the kid to Jennifer. The back of the boy’s head nestled against Cori’s neck, his chin rested on her shoulder. Short, spindly legs dangled on either side of Cori’s hips. From his size, Blake guessed him to be around three. The kid eyed Jennifer suspiciously, earning a bit of reluctant respect from Blake. Lately, his sister rode an emotional pendulum from heated disdain to cool affection. An unsuspecting little boy would be an easy mark for her derision.

      Blake handed the laptop to Cori and passed the backpack to Jen, who held it out as if it had germs. He carried the sleeping bag and two wheelies into the house.

      “Where to?” Blake asked as he headed upstairs.

      “My old room.”

      Blake heard Jen huff in outrage behind him. She’d been sleeping in Cori’s bedroom when she stayed with Sophia and had become rather proprietary about it, even going so far as to refer to it as “my room.” Blake hoped Jennifer decided to use good manners today so that she wouldn’t embarrass him.

      “It’s only got one single bed. Maybe you should stay in the guest room,” Blake said as they climbed the stairs, trying to avoid a blowup.

      “I’m not a guest,” Cori answered firmly, then nudged the child and added, “Besides, you like camping out on the floor, don’t you, Peanut?”

      Shouldering open the door to Cori’s room, Blake entered, glad he was accustomed to the color.

      “It’s pretty pink, isn’t it,” Cori said, with a forced laugh. “I’d forgotten how pink.”

      Everything was pink. Pink carpet, pink frilly drapes, pink satin bedspread, pink striped wallpaper and pink champagne furniture. Blake couldn’t relate to it at all. Jennifer loved it. The black suitcases seemed somber and out of place.

      “It’s a girl’s room, Mommy.”

      “I’m a girl.”

      “You’re a mommy.”

      “Give your mommy a kiss and thank Jennifer for carrying your backpack.” Cori finally managed to disengage herself from the little cling-on.

      “You’re staying in this room?” Jennifer handed over the backpack without acknowledging the kid’s thanks.

      “I’ll survive, I think. I can always wear my sunglasses.” Cori flashed a little smile in Jennifer’s direction.

      Whether Cori was deliberately misreading Jennifer’s meaning or just being polite, Blake couldn’t tell. She seemed tense. Her eyes ping-ponged from Michael to Blake. What was making her so uncomfortable?

      Jennifer crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows, giving Cori her version of the evil eye, but Cori didn’t notice as she kicked off those killer pumps, bent and pulled a suitcase across the floor.

      “Jen, why don’t you go check on Sophia and get started on your homework?” Blake suggested, trying to breathe normally as Cori showed several inches of bare thigh while leaning over. Just a little bit farther and she’d expose everything. Blake made himself look away.

      “Mama’s resting right now,” Cori said, as if she was now in charge of her mother’s well-being.

      “That’s okay,” Jennifer said with saccharine sweetness. “She’s used to me being there every day.”

      And with that direct hit, Jen flounced out of the room.

      Straightening, Cori gnawed on her lower lip, then gave Blake a worried look, brown eyes as big and soulful as a puppy’s.

      “Mama said she was going to rest while I unpacked.”

      Blake shrugged, unwilling to let her distress bother him. “Jen does her homework in there most afternoons. I think Sophia likes the company.”

      Cori turned away, but not before he noted the tears filling her eyes. Blake pulled the door closed between them before he did something stupid like pull her into his arms.

      SALVATORE MESSINA SAT in the limousine staring at the yellow Mustang in the driveway. His granddaughter had come home. For years, he’d lived without her sunny smiles, her shining diplomacy and her fierce love of the land. Messina Vineyards wasn’t as strong a presence in the wine industry without her, especially these days. And the family? Well, the family had become less talkative, less humorous and—he’d admit this only to himself—less loving. Here in the shadowy twilight of his dark car, Salvatore could admit that he had missed Corinne.

      A silly, sentimental feeling swept through him, filling Salvatore’s eyes with tears, making him uncomfortably aware of the driver sitting patiently in the front seat. He hardened his jaw, then blinked back the tears with a measured breath.

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