The Villa

earshot.
    "Theo's going to trip over his tongue." David let out a sigh. "She's a beautiful woman. Can't blame him."
    "Yeah, she looks good."
    The warning tone had David struggling with a grin. He nodded soberly. "And I'm old enough to be her father, so you've got no worries in that direction."
    From his viewpoint, Cutter was just the type Sophia usually went for. Older, slicker, classier. Under the rough gear, there was class. Being a farmer didn't mean he couldn't spot it.
    But that was beside the point.
    "There's nothing between me and Sophia," he said, very definitely.
    "Either way. Let's just clear the air here, okay? I'm not here to get in your way, or interfere with your routine. You're the vintner, MacMillan, and I'm not. But I do intend to do my job, and to keep abreast of every step and phase of the vineyards."
    "You've got the offices. I've got the fields."
    "Not entirely, no. I was hired to coordinate, to oversee, and I was hired because I know the vines. I'm not just a suit, and frankly, I was tired of trying to be one. Mind?"
    He plucked the pruners out of Tyler's belt sheath and turned to the near row. Gloveless, he lifted canes, studied and made his cut.
    It was quick, efficient. And correct.
    "I know the vines," David repeated, holding the tool out to Tyler. "But that doesn't make them mine."
    Irritated, Tyler took back the tool, shoved it into its sheath like a sword into a scabbard. "All right, let's clear some more air. I don't like someone looking over my shoulder, and knowing he's going to be giving me grades like I was in high school. I'm here to make wine, not friends. I don't know how they did things at La Coeur, and I don't care. I run this vineyard."
    "You did," David said evenly. "Now we run it, whether we like it or not."
    "We don't like it," he said shortly and strode away.
    Hardheaded, inflexible, territorial, David mused. It was going to be an interesting little battle. He glanced over to where Sophia entertained his children. Theo's throbbing hormones were all but sending out bolts of sex-crazed red light. And that, David thought wearily, was going to be complicated.
    He strolled over, watched with approval as his daughter cut through a cane. "Good job. Thanks," he said to Sophia.
    "My pleasure. I assume you'll want to meet with me to be briefed on my promotional campaign plans. I'm setting up an office at the villa. Would this afternoon work for you? Maybe two o'clock."
    Clever girl, he thought. Make the first move, establish turf. What a family. "Sure, that works for me. I'll just get these two out of your hair."
    "I want to see the rest," Maddy said. "There's nothing to do at home anyway. It's boring."
    "We haven't finished unpacking."
    "Are you in a hurry for that?" Sophia laid a hand on Maddy's shoulder. "If you're not you can leave Theo and Maddy with me. I have to go back to the villa in an hour or so, and I can drop them off. You're in the guest house, right?"
    "That's right." He glanced at his watch. He had some time before his meeting. "If they're not in the way."
    "Not at all."
    "Fine. I'll see you at two. You guys stay out of trouble."
    "You'd think we look for it," Maddy muttered under her breath.
    "If you don't," Sophia said as David walked away, "you're not having enough fun."
    She liked the kids. Maddy's intense questioning was entertaining, and kept her on her toes. And it was sweet to find herself the object of a teenage boy's crush-at-first-sight.
    Also, who knew more about a man, how he behaved, how he thought, how he planned, than his children? A morning with David Cutter's teenagers would be interesting and, she believed, informative.
    "Let's go drag Ty away," Sophia suggested, "and make him take us through the winery. I'm not as familiar with MacMillan's operation as I am with Giambelli's." She tucked her tool away. "We'll all learn something."
     
    Pilar paced the chambers of Judge Helen Moore and tried not to fret. Her life, she thought, seemed to be tumbling out of her control. She wasn't at all sure how to grab it back. Worse, she was no longer sure how much of it she wanted to keep.
    Steps had to be taken, of that she was sure. She was so sick of feeling used and useless.
    Most of all, she needed a friend.
    She'd barely seen her mother or her daughter that morning. Purposely. It was cowardly, she supposed, to avoid those closest to her. But she needed time to shore up the damage, to make her decisions, to coat over the ridiculous hurt that still scraped