Tangled Vines Read Free

with time.
    Unable to deny Dougherty’s claim, Katherine stiffened, holding herself even straighter. “My relationship with Gilbert is not a subject I intend to discuss with you, Mr. Dougherty.”
    Dougherty had scored, and he knew it. “It must gripe the hell out of you that his winery is every bit as successful as Rutledge Estate. Who knows – in a few years The Cloisters might even be bigger.”
    A tan Jeep pulled into the yard and parked in the shade of the madrona trees. Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine saw her grandson Sam Rutledge climb out.
    â€œI fail to see the relevance of your remarks, Mr. Dougherty.” With a lift of her cane, Katherine indicated the papers gripped in his hand. “You have been served with legal notice. Either you pay the full amount owed or you forfeit your vineyard. The choice is yours.”
    â€œDamn you,” he cursed bitterly. “You think you got me beat, don’t you? But you’ll see. Before I let you get your hands on my place, I’ll burn every inch of it.”
    â€œDo that,” Sam said as he joined them. “It will save us from bringing in a bulldozer to clear it.” To Katherine, he said, “I flew over his place last Saturday when I took the Cub up.” The Cub was the antique, two-seat biplane Sam had restored to flying condition two years ago. “From the air, I could see he’d let the vineyard grow wild. It’s nothing but a jungle of weeds, vines, and brush now.”
    â€œI couldn’t help it,” Dougherty protested quickly, and defensively. “My health hasn’t been good lately.”
    â€œGo,” Katherine ordered abruptly, treating Dougherty to an icy glare. “I am weary of your eternal grousing and I am too old to waste more of my precious time listening to you.” She turned to Sam. “Take me to the house, Jonathon.”
    Inadvertently she called Sam by his father’s name, and Sam didn’t bother to correct her. He had been a boy of fourteen when his father died twenty-odd years ago. Ever since, Katherine would slip now and then and address him as Jonathon. Over the years, Sam had learned to ignore it.
    He escorted Katherine to the Jeep and helped her into the passenger seat, then walked around to the driver’s side. As he swung behind the wheel, he heard her sigh, a note of impatience in the sound.
    â€œThinking about Dougherty?” Sam ventured, throwing her a glance as he turned the wheel and steered the Jeep onto a tree-shaded drive. “I have the feeling he’s going to cause some kind of trouble before this is over.”
    â€œDougherty does not concern me. He can do nothing.”
    The crispness of her voice made it clear the subject was closed; there would be no further discussion. Her mind could shut doors like that, on things, feelings, or people. Just the way she’d shut his uncle Gilbert from her life, Sam recalled as the Jeep cruised up the narrow lane.
    Sam had been away at boarding school at the time of the split. In the valley there had been a hundred versions of what happened, a hundred causes offered for it. Any of them could be true. His father had never discussed it with him, and Katherine certainly never spoke of it.
    Through lawyers, she had bought out any interest that her son Gilbert had in the family business immediately following the breakup. Gil had used that money plus more from investors, bought some abandoned vineyard property not five miles from Rutledge Estate, built a monastic-style winery, dubbed it ‘The Cloisters,’ and successfully launched a wine of the same name, going into direct and open competition with his mother.
    More than once, Sam had observed chance meetings between them at some wine function. A stranger would never suspect they were mother and son, let alone that they were estranged. No hostility or animosity was exhibited. Katherine treated him as she would any other vintner with