Bluestone & Vine Read online

  Seth nodded. “Bailey and the son of another friend of mine come up here to help with my sheep a few days a week after school and on most weekends. Bailey loves her sheep, and she takes wonderful care of mine, but I knew she missed her little goats, so . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “I have plenty of room, and if you have a few sheep, then what difference do a few goats make, you know?”

  Pippa beamed at that. “What difference, indeed. Katie told me you were starting up a winery here. How do you manage that as well as all the animals? You have your hands full, then, don’t you?”

  He smiled broadly. “You haven’t met the chickens yet.” Before she could ask, he said, “Those I got for me. And maybe for another friend of mine. He’s starting a microbrewery and he wanted heritage chickens for his hops yard.”

  “Of course he did,” Pippa said, as if that made perfect sense.

  “I found a few more than he needed, and I’ve always wanted farm fresh eggs, so win-win.”

  She rested her chin on her folded arms, then batted her eyelashes at him. “You know, I’ve always wanted a Shetland pony. Since I was a wee little lass.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “I believe you’re in a position to have whatever you want. You don’t need me for that.”

  Her expression changed then, though he couldn’t have said exactly to what. It was still soft, still amused, but considering now, as well. She regarded him for a long moment like that, without saying anything, then straightened as the music shut off, creating something of a deafening vacuum with the sudden absence of noise. “I’ll dig the snowmobile out in the morning,” she said, still smiling, but sounding more the polite houseguest now.

  It should have been a relief. No point in getting chummy. Especially as he hadn’t mentioned her new housing plan as yet. But, like finding the house empty when he got out of the shower, her words had the opposite effect.

  “I’ll get in touch with Mr. Jenkins, too, to see about returning it,” she went on. “Now that the snow has stopped, do you think the roads will be passable sometime tomorrow? Or is there more coming?”

  “No, the snow is done. In fact, I was just checking the weather, and it looks like the temperatures are going to bounce pretty hard in the opposite direction.” Which would turn the winter wonderland out there into a mud swamp, but one problem at a time. “I expect the roads should be clear by late morning,” he said. “The wind is supposed to die down tonight, too, so the drifting should stop. It will anyway, once the snow heats up tomorrow and starts to get heavy with melt. If the road crews don’t get up here early, I can plow down to Mabry’s place if need be.”

  “Of course you can,” she said easily, dry smile curving her pursed lips again. Her gaze, however, remained contemplative. She stepped back from the stall door. “I’ll leave you to your work, then. I’ve intruded enough for one day. I hope you didn’t mind my coming out here. It’s such a beautiful structure, reminds me of the crofts around our old farm outside of Donegal. I just wanted to see more of it, see how Dex was getting along with the melt. I thought maybe I could help there.”

  “No, that’s fine,” he said. “I appreciate it, and clearly Dex is a fan.”

  Pippa smiled and turned to look at the llama, who had wandered back to his corner of the barn and was munching on his supper. She looked back at Seth and said, “Good. Well, I can find my way back to the house.” She turned to go, then stepped back to the door. “Are you an early riser?”

  Momentarily surprised, Seth nodded. “If you consider six in the morning early. I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

  “Do you like your porridge with currants or without?”

  “I like my currants without porridge, actually,” he said, his tone dry now. “And you can hold the currants.” They both smiled at that, but he went on before she could speak. “You don’t need to cook breakfast, not for me, at any rate. You’re a guest, and you’re here to rest, or unwind, or whatever it was you came here needing to do. I imagine it didn’t include helping with a menagerie of farm critters or pulling KP duty for your host.”

  “KP?”

  “Kitchen patrol.”

  “Ah. Well, I don’t mind doing either thing, but that’s very kind of you,” she said. “Especially when you weren’t anticipating my arrival.”

  “No worries,” Seth said, smiling as she nodded and turned to go. He looked back to his computer screen, clicked open the mail program, checking for that reply from the wholesale distributor that still hadn’t shown up. You might want to tell her she’s not going to be staying with you much longer, his little voice prompted him. He decided he had plenty of time in the morning to broach that subject. He was still waiting to hear from Noah, anyway, on the cabin rental.

  “The thing is,” she said, leaning back so she could look into the stall, “I rather liked cooking dinner. If it’s not a bother, I’ll put together a big American-style breakfast for you then. What, like eggs, bacon? You Yanks like potatoes with your morning meal, is that right? If you don’t mind, it will make me feel useful, and it’s one less thing for you to do. You can get right on with your day.”

  Seth looked at her. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her he wasn’t in the habit of having a big breakfast. Normally a strong pot of coffee and an egg sandwich or two and he was good till he came in from morning rounds. But the look on her face was so damn hopeful. And he supposed, if she truly wanted to, it would give her something to do and would allow him the chance to get out the door without her following him out to the barn. “That would be fine then,” he said. “I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.”

  She beamed and she might have curtsied again, being cute. “My pleasure, kind sir.”

  “Don’t worry about the snowmobile, by the way,” he called out as she skipped off. “I’ll pull it out with the tractor.”

  She stepped back to the stall door. Again. And he wondered if he was telling her this now because he thought it needed to be said, or because he was putting off her going back to the house. And leaving him in the barn with a now dozing Dexter and a bunch of sleeping goats. Which was normally one of his favorite times of the day.

  “With it getting warm tomorrow, the drifts will be heavy as they melt,” he told her. “I’d rather you leave it to me.”

  She nodded. “Sounds like the wise choice. I am sorry for the bother though.”

  “No bother. When we go down to get your things, Mabry can hitch a ride back up and drive the snowmobile back down to his farm while we still have enough snow to run it.”

  Her expression fell at that.

  “You were hoping to return it yourself, were you?” he asked, unable to keep the smile from his face. She looked so sincerely forlorn. God, you really are a sucker for a pitiful look, aren’t you?

  “I thought it would be the right thing to do,” she said. “One less thing for you. I could head down, have a chat with Mr. Jenkins, maybe see a bit of his place. Then you could bring me and my baggage back up when you’ve the time to come down and round us up.”

  “That could be arranged, too.” He didn’t bother to tell her that Mabry was likely every bit as busy as he was this time of year. He suspected the older man would be perfectly happy to lose a half day’s work if it meant he would be entertained by a lovely and lively guest. Heck, the man had given her his snowmobile after knowing her a mere minute or two. All the more reason to get her tucked up in Noah’s cabin, as soon as possible.

  “Brilliant. Thank you,” she said; then she popped off again. He heard the sound of the barn door sliding open, then closed. And once again, he was finally, blissfully, at peace.

  He stared at his computer screen, but didn’t start typing. He picked up his thermos, remembered he’d finished off the whole thing, and set it back down. The scone baggie was empty, too. He thought about getting up to turn on the coffeepot, but didn’t. He turned his attention back to his computer again, but a full minute went by and he realized he was staring at the screen. It was just, the sud
den peace and quiet felt really ... quiet. Maybe you have been living alone a little too long.

  He looked at his cell phone, thinking maybe he’d call Noah and follow up on his earlier message. Noah owned and ran Blue Hollow Falls’ only inn, a very popular spot not too far from Big Stone Creek. He’d recently purchased an old fishing cabin from another friend of Seth’s, higher up in the hills, not too far from Seth’s vineyard. Noah had renovated and outfitted the tiny place as another rental option for guests who really wanted to get away from it all. It was rustic but well appointed, and Pippa wouldn’t have to worry about anyone bothering her, or finding out where she was. And it was close enough that checking in on her wouldn’t be too problematic. Seth doubted anyone was in it now, with all the late season snow. If his scheme worked out, he could pick Pippa up from Mabry’s and take her right on up to the cabin.

  Except, he didn’t pick up the phone.

  Seth looked across the open floor of the barn area to the opposite corner. He’d removed the doors to two stalls and torn down the wall between them, creating a sort of open-sided area that Dexter could claim for himself, without being shut in. The beast was currently giving him a mournful stare.

  “She’ll be back in the morning,” Seth called over to him. “I’ve a feeling you’ll be hard-pressed to get rid of her.”

  Question was, why was he so hard-pressed to do the same?

  Chapter Five

  “Fourth generation,” Pippa exclaimed, flipping another page in one of Mabry Jenkins’s photo albums. “That’s a lovely thing, isn’t it?”

  “It’ll go on through the sixth if my daughter has her way,” the older man said proudly. “Maggie’s talking her husband into moving out here so she can take over for me when the time comes. He’s some kind of computer genius, provides real well for his family, but he works from home more than not these days. She’s my only one, so it’s her or nothing, I’m afraid. My brother ran this place with me his whole adult life. Never did have any kids of his own. He was five years my junior, but he’s passed on now. Three years before my wife, God rest them both.” Mabry turned the page. “My daughter has two boys.” He pointed a gnarled finger at a recent addition to the scrapbook. “That’s her there with her husband.” He flipped the page and pointed to another photo. “These are my grandsons. Twins, don’t you know,” he added, his love for them clear in his voice. “I figure one of ’em might want the place when their time comes.”

  Pippa looked up from the grinning, towheaded young men, each sporting a different university logo on the front of his hoodie, and smiled at Mabry. “You can’t ask for a better legacy than that, now, can you?”

  “No,” he said, “no, you certainly can’t.” He closed the book and set it back on the coffee table. “Farming isn’t like it used to be when I was coming up, but apples are about as sure a crop as you can get around here.” He smiled, showing a few gaps here and there, his pale blue eyes a bit faded but otherwise still sharp. “My daughter knows all the ins and outs, of course, seeing as she helped run this place from the time she could walk. She’ll do fine. Place runs itself more than not these days.”

  Pippa seriously doubted that. She knew for a fact that Mr. Jenkins did a fair share himself, as she’d found him in one of his outbuildings when she’d arrived that morning, lying half underneath a tractor he was bent on repairing. He’d finished that and dragged what he’d told her was a hay baler to the middle of the space and set to working on that next, and after that he started on some other engine he had up on a sawhorse. He wasn’t a particularly big man, but time had stooped his spine a bit, and the fingers on his hands were no longer as straight as they’d probably once been. Yet he worked along as if he was a man half his age, lifting heavy equipment, dragging it where it needed to go, crawling over or under it as needed, fixing what was broken, all the while keeping up a running conversation with her. After all that, he’d asked her in for some tea as if he’d done nothing more than water a few plants. He’d tired her out just watching him.

  She’d offered to park the snowmobile in the barn, but he said he’d be using it later to go out and check on his trees and repair some fencing the snow had knocked down. She didn’t doubt for a second he could do all that and more before lunch.

  “What brings you out to Blue Hollow Falls?” he asked her. “From the sounds of it, I’m guessing you don’t live around here.”

  Pippa laughed. “No, I don’t, but I’m beginning to envy those of you who do. I’m over from Dublin for a bit of an adventure,” she told him. “I’m originally from Donegal, though, clear across the country. They’ve a good farming community there, too. Reminds me a bit of here, at least what I’ve seen so far.”

  “Not much to see with all the white stuff out there,” Mabry told her. He stood slowly and ran his palms over his hips before stepping out from around the small coffee table. He wore denim overalls with several layers of shirts beneath and a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt as the outer layer. His skin was weathered and wrinkled, and there were age spots as well, but he had a solid look to him, with a shock of white hair on his head and a quick, ready smile.

  Pippa had liked him on sight. “I don’t get to see snow much, so this was a pleasant surprise.”

  “It’ll be gone soon enough. Weather report’s calling for sixty-degree weather and a good bout of rain headed our way. It’ll be muddier than a cow herd in a pond before you know it, and we’ll be wishing this white stuff was back, covering it all up.”

  Pippa stood, too, realizing she was keeping him from his work. His place was far more modest than the showcase style of Seth’s vineyard chalet. A white clapboard frame with a pitched, tin-covered roof, the house had a small entryway and living room area. The dining room was off to one side, with a little kitchen beyond, and a staircase leading up to what she assumed were a few bedrooms was on the other side of the foyer.

  It was all quaintly old-fashioned, tidily furnished and decorated, with the small, floral patterned couch they’d been seated on, a recliner nearby that clearly saw much use, and a coffee table with its fancy bent legs between the two. A basket full of magazines and a standing lamp were positioned next to the recliner and a small bookshelf crammed full of paperbacks and a few hardcovers was just behind it. She smiled at the old-fashioned television with the long antennae going this way and that. It sat on a small, rolling stand next to the fireplace. It was just like the one her grandda had had in his croft at home.

  There were framed photos on the mantel and dotting the open spaces on the wall between other framed prints. More photos lined the wall all the way up the stairs. Some were black and white, some in color. She recognized his daughter in many of them and spied photos of his grandchildren at various ages.

  Pippa assumed all the knickknacks scattered about had belonged to his wife. Most men she knew weren’t keen on gewgaws, much less the dusting they required, so she thought it was sweet that he’d left them all there. And she noted there wasn’t a speck of dust around them, either. If she hadn’t already liked the man, that would have cemented him as a friend for life.

  She picked up their teacups and carried them to the kitchen.

  “Just leave those in the sink there,” Mabry said. “Thank you.”

  She came back to the living room and picked up her jacket. “I don’t want to keep you any longer than I have already,” she said. “Thank you for the loan, and the conversation.”

  “World would go much better if we all took a moment for a cup of tea and spent a minute talking to each other. Thanks for listening to this old man ramble on about his life. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  “It was my absolute pleasure. I’d almost think you had some Irish in you,” Pippa added with a smile. “You make a good pot of tea.”

  He beamed at that. “My wife’s ancestors hailed from Wales, so she was a teetotaler herself. Got me to drinking the stuff when I couldn’t handle the coffee any longer.” His smile spread, making the corners of his eyes cr
inkle. “Credit for any brewing skills go to her.”

  Pippa’s smile softened. “I wish I could have met her.”

  Mabry nodded. “Annie would have loved hearing you talk, that’s for certain.”

  Pippa laughed at that, delighted by his frankness, and Mabry chuckled along with her. “Seth should be here shortly,” she said. “I truly appreciate your holding on to my bags for me.” Mabry had helped her haul them to the porch earlier, where they stood in a neat stack.

  “Looks like you’re fixing to stay on a bit,” he said. “How did you come to know Seth? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  Pippa smiled, thinking that Blue Hollow Falls wasn’t much different from the wee village where she’d grown up. Folks back home were sincerely friendly, always helpful, and not a little nosy. She suspected Mr. Jenkins was more interested in looking out for the well-being of his neighbor than motivated by the desire for gossip. But she was equally certain that whatever was said between them here this morning would end up being common knowledge in town, likely before lunch.

  Despite her intention to remain “under the radar,” as her sister Katie had termed it, Pippa wasn’t alarmed by that probability. In fact, she felt surprisingly comforted by it. She had no doubt that if Mabry Jenkins thought she needed safeguarding, he’d be as stalwart a protector as she’d find anywhere. She couldn’t say that for certain about the rest of the townsfolk, given she hadn’t met any of them yet, but she knew that while her own villagers back home might feast on gossip as heartily and regularly as they did on tea and scones, they also held that same information closely among themselves. Katie had said Moira promised it would be much the same way in Blue Hollow Falls.

  “We just met yesterday,” Pippa told him, her smile widening when his snowy eyebrows climbed. “I’m doing a bit of a house swap with Seth’s sister Moira. She’ll be staying at a croft I own in the village where I was raised, and I’ll have the privilege of staying here, at a vineyard in these beautiful, snow-capped mountains.” She leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “I don’t mind telling you, as lovely as County Donegal is, I think I might have scored the better end of the trade.”