Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse. Honor. “Hey,” she said, feeling the faint pang of alarm she always felt when her sister called. “How are you?”
“Have you talked to Dad recently?” her sister said.
“Um...yeah. We talk almost every day.”
“Then I suppose you’ve heard about Lorena.”
Faith twisted to avoid a cute guy in a Derek Jeter T-shirt. “I’m a Yankees fan, too,” she told him with a smile. He frowned and took the hand of an irritable-looking woman next to him. Message received, buddy, and jeesh. Only trying to be friendly. “Who’s Lorena?” she asked her sister.
Honor sighed. “Faith, you might want to get home before Dad gets married.”
CHAPTER TWO
LEVI COOPER, CHIEF OF POLICE of the Manningsport Police Department, all two and a half of them, tried to give people a break. He did. Even the tourists with the lead feet, Red Sox stickers and complete disregard for speed limits. He parked the cruiser in plain sight, the radar gun clearly visible. Hi there, welcome to Manningsport, you’re going way too fast and here I am, about to pull you over, so slow down, pal. The town depended on visitors, and September was prime tourism season; the leaves were starting to turn, buses had been rolling in and out of town all week, and every vineyard in the area had some special event going on.
But the law was the law.
Plus, he’d just let Colleen O’Rourke off with a stern lecture and a warning while she tried to look remorseful.
So another speeder just wasn’t going to be tolerated today. This one, for example. Seventeen miles an hour over the limit, more than enough. Also, an out-of-towner; he could see the rental plates from here. The car was a painfully bright yellow Honda Civic, currently clocking in at forty-two miles per hour in a twenty-five-mile-an-hour zone. What if Carol Robinson and her merry band of geriatric power-walkers were out? What if the Nebbins kid was riding his bike? There hadn’t been a fatal crash in Manningsport since he’d been chief, and Levi planned on keeping it that way.
The yellow car sailed past him, not even a tap on the brakes. The driver wore a baseball cap and big sunglasses. Female. With a sigh, Levi put on the lights, gave the siren a blip and pulled onto the road. She didn’t notice. He hit the siren again, and the driver seemed to realize that, yes, he was talking to her, and pulled over.
Grabbing his ticket pad, Levi got out of the cruiser. Wrote down the license plate number, then went over to the driver’s side, where the window was lowering. “Welcome to Manningsport,” he said, not smiling.
Shit.
It was Faith Holland. A giant Golden retriever shoved its head out of the window and barked once, wagging happily.
“Levi,” she said, as if they’d seen each other last week at O’Rourke’s.
“Holland. You visiting?”
“Wow. That’s amazing. How did you guess?”
He looked at her, not amused, and let a few beats pass. It worked; her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. “So. Forty-two in a twenty-five-mile-an-hour zone,” he said.
“I thought it was thirty-five,” she said.
“We dropped it last year.”
The dog whined, so Levi petted him, making the dog try to crawl over Faith’s head.
“Blue, get back,” Faith ordered.
Blue. Right. Same dog as from a few years ago.
“Levi, how about a warning? I have a, um, a family emergency, so if you could drop the cop act, that’d be super.” She gave him a tight smile, almost meeting his eyes, and pushed her hair behind one ear.
“What’s the emergency?” he said.
“My grandfather is...uh...he’s not feeling well. Goggy’s concerned.”
“Should you lie about stuff like that?” he asked. Levi was well acquainted with the elder Hollands, as they made up about ten percent of his work week. And if Mr. Holland really was under the weather, he’d bet Mrs. Holland would be picking out his funeral clothes and planning a cruise.
Faith sighed. “Look, Levi. I just took the red-eye from San Francisco. Can you give me a break? Sorry I was going too fast.” She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I’ll take a warning. Can I go now?”
“License and registration, please.”
“Still got that branch up your ass, I see.”
“License and registration, and please exit the vehicle.”
She mumbled something under her breath, then groped around in the glove compartment, her shirt coming out of her jeans to reveal a patch of creamy flesh. Looked like the fitness revolution had passed her by; then again, she’d always been a little lush ripe chunky, ever since he could remember. The dog took the opportunity to shove his head out again, and Levi scratched him behind the ear.
Faith slammed the glove box shut, shoved some papers in Levi’s hand, got out of the car, nearly hitting him with the door. “Stay put, Blue.” She didn’t look at Levi.
He glanced at her license, then at her.
“Yes, it’s a bad picture,” she snapped. “Want a tissue sample?”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. This has expired, though. Another fine.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms under her chest. Still had that amazing rack.
“How was Afghanistan?” she asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Really great. I’m thinking of getting a summer place there.”
“You know what I wonder, Levi? Why are some people always such hemorrhoids? You ever wonder that?”
“I do. Are you aware that antagonizing an officer of the law is a felony?”
“Really. How fascinating. Can you get it in gear, please? I want to see my family.”
He signed the paper and handed it to her. She wadded it up and tossed it in the car. “Am I free to go, Officer?”
“It’s Chief now,” he said.
“See someone about that branch.” She got into the car and drove off. Not too fast, though not slowly, either.
Levi watched her go, releasing a breath. Up to Blue Heron Vineyard, the place her family had owned since America was a baby, to the big white house on the Hill, as her neighborhood was called.
He’d always known Faith Holland, the kind of girl who hugged her girlfriends six times a day in school, as if it’d been weeks since they’d seen each other, not two periods. She reminded him of a puppy trying to woo prospective owners at the pound... Like me! Like me! I’m really nice! Jessica, Levi’s old neighbor from the trailer park and on-and-off high school girlfriend, had dubbed her Princess Super-Cute, always bouncing around in frilly outfits and pastel colors. Once Faith had started dating Jeremy...it was like eating a bowl of Lucky Charms topped with syrup, so sweet it made your teeth ache. He was surprised bluebirds hadn’t fluttered around her head.
Funny, how she’d never noticed her boyfriend was g*y.
Levi knew she’d been back over the years—Christmas and Thanksgiving, a weekend here and there, but her visits were short and sweet. She sure never stopped by the police station, though he was friendly with her family; sometimes her grandparents would ask him to stay for dinner after they’d summoned him to the house, and once in a while, he’d have a beer with her father or brother at O’Rourke’s. But Faith would never think to drop by and say hello.
Yet once upon a time, when she’d cried herself dehydrated, she’d fallen asleep with her head in his lap.
Levi got back into his cruiser. Plenty of work to do. No point in dwelling on the past.
FAITH KNOCKED ON THE BACK door of her father’s house and happily braced for impact. “I’m home!” she called.
“Faith! Oh, honey, finally!” cried Goggy, leading the stampede. “You’re late! Didn’t I tell you dinner was at noon?”
“Just got hung up a little,” Faith said, not wanting to mention Levi Cooper, Ass Pain.
Abby, now sixteen and so pretty, wrapped herself around Faith, burbling out compliments: “I love your earrings, you smell so good, can I come live with you?” Pops kissed both her cheeks and told her she was his prettiest girl, and Faith breathed in the comforting scent of grapes and Bengay. Ned hugged her amiably, despite being twenty-one, and tolerated a hair muss, and Pru gave her a hard hug, as well.
Her mother’s absence was still the most powerful thing in the room.
And finally there was Dad, who waited his turn for a solo hug. His eyes were wet when he pulled back. “Hi, sweetpea,” he said, and Faith’s heart gave a tug.
“Missed you, Daddy.”
“You look beautiful, sweetheart.” He ran a purple-stained hand over her hair and smiled.
“Mrs. Johnson’s not here?” Faith asked.
“It’s her day off,” Dad said.
“Oh, I know. I just haven’t seen her since June.”
“She doesn’t approve of Grandpa’s girlfriend,” Abby whispered as she petted Blue.
“Hi, sis,” Jack said, handing her a glass of wine.
“Hello, favorite sibling,” she answered, taking a hearty slug.
“Don’t drink it like it’s Gatorade, sweetpea,” her father chided. “We’re winemakers, remember?”
“Sorry, Dad,” Faith said. “Nice aroma of freshly cut grass, a rich, buttery texture, and I’m getting overtones of apricot with a hint of lemon. I love it.”
“Good girl,” he said. “Did you get any vanilla? Honor said vanilla.”
“Definitely.” Far be it for Faith to contradict Honor, who ran everything under the moon at Blue Heron Vineyards. “Where is Honor, by the way?”
“On that phone of hers,” Goggy said darkly. She tended not to trust anything invented after 1957. “Get in the dining room before the food gets cold.”
“I was serious when I asked to come live with you,” Abby said. Prudence sighed and took a slug of her own wine. “Plus,” Abby went on, “then I can establish residency in California and go to some awesome school out there at half price. See, Mom? Just saving you and Dad some money.”
“And where’s Carl, speaking of my favorite brother-in-law?” Faith asked.
“Hiding,” Pru answered.
“Well, well, well! You must be Faith!” A woman’s voice boomed as the downstairs bathroom door opened, the sound of a flushing toilet in the background.
Faith opened her mouth, then closed it. “Oh. I—I am. Lorena, I’m guessing?”
The woman Honor had warned about was a sight to behold indeed. Dull black hair, obviously dyed, makeup so thick you could carve in it and a squat body shown in horrifying detail through a clinging, leopard-print shirt.
The woman shoved a Sharpie pen in her cle**age where it stayed, quivering, like a syringe. “Just touching up my roots!” she announced. “Wanted to make a nice impression on the little princess! Hello there! Give us a hug!”
Faith’s breath left her in a whoosh as Lorena wrapped her in a python grip. “Nice to meet you,” she wheezed as Pru gave her a significant look.
“Can we please eat before my death?” Pops asked. “The old woman here wouldn’t let me have my cheese. I’m starving.”
“So, die already,” Goggy answered. “No one’s stopping you. I’ll barely notice.”
“Well, Phyllis Nebbins would notice. She got a new hip two months ago, Faithie. Looks like she’s seventy-five again, out there with her grandson, always with a smile. Nice to see a happy woman.”
Goggy slammed down a massive bowl of salt potatoes. “I’ll be happy once you’re dead.”
“That’s beautiful, Goggy,” Ned said.
“You two are such hoots!” Lorena practically yelled. “I love it!”
