“What are they doing about it?” she calmly asked Rosaura.
“He has an appointment to see a plant pathologist at U.C. Davis in two weeks.”
“Two weeks!” Sara cried, disgusted. “The damn rot could spread to the rest of the vines in two weeks’ time.”
“That’s the earliest they can see him.”
Sara knew Jason must be climbing the walls by now. He had reluctantly come back to run the winery and he wasn’t yet confident in his ability to make it work. He was probably riddled with a whole new set of doubts.
She had to see him. But she couldn’t let him know she knew what was going on.
“Rosaura, let’s pretend you didn’t tell me a thing, shall we?”
“That’s fine with me,” said Rosaura, smiling. “Claude would not be happy if he found out I’d done the exact opposite of what he told me to do.”
“He won’t hear it from me,” Sara assured her. “And, thank you!”
“We girls have to stick together,” Rosaura said with a smile before leaving.
The store was empty now except for Sara. She had let Frannie and Elizabeth go home early. Frannie to start fretting over what she could possibly wear to Melissa’s party that could qualify as sexy but would not make Erik Sutherland’s tongue hang out of his mouth. And Elizabeth had plans to go to a movie with one of the other bookstore employees, Linda Ramirez. Sara was both surprised and delighted when Elizabeth had told her she was going out. It was proof that she was coming out of herself more every day and was making a real effort to be happy.
Sara wanted to rush over to the Hacienda and offer comfort to Jason.
However, she made herself go through all of the steps of closing the bookstore for the day in order to give herself time to think about her actions before she did something she would regret.
An hour later, she left the bookstore, locking the door behind her, and hurried to the bank down the street to deposit the day’s receipts. From the bank, she went home, showered, put on her robe, then sat down at the computer on the desk in her bedroom.
She went to the organization’s Web site and went through the profiles of her sisters, looking for a plant pathologist. Whatever that was! One of the advantages of being a member of Aminatu’s Daughters was the rich sources of life experiences the other sisters had to offer. Whenever a sister was in need of help, all she had to do was ask and she received.
This was the first time she’d had to ask any of her sisters for a favor, but if there was indeed a plant pathologist in the sisterhood, she was going to request her help.
It took a few minutes, but she finally came up with a name: Dr. Willow Quigley.
Unfortunately she worked at a university in the Pacific Northwest. She wasn’t right there in California. Sara sent her a message explaining her predicament, anyway.
At that precise moment, at the Hacienda, Jason was standing under the spray in the shower, letting it rain down on his head. In the last twenty-four hours he’d castigated himself over and over for not being more thorough. When his parents had handed him the reins, they had specifically told him he needed to read the winery’s log books. His parents kept a record of every important occurrence on the farm. There was a book for every year the winery had been in operation, dating back to the sixties. Last night, he hadn’t been able to sleep, and he’d found an entry about his parents finding root rot in the southern field. His father had made a note in his careful handwriting: “We believe we got it all, but you can never be sure with root rot. Be sure to keep an eye on the southern vineyard. If it comes back, we’ll have to be more aggressive.”
But his father hadn’t said what kind of root rot they’d discovered in 1978. Maybe there had been no plant pathologists to name the culprit back then.
Jason shampooed, and rinsed. His hair was cut short and close to his head. Black and naturally wavy, he usually just washed it, dried it with a towel, put a little moisturizer on it, and he was set. Tonight, he didn’t even bother with the moisturizer.
Who cared if he had soft hair?
For one selfish moment, he thought about Sara. She used to sit him down and oil his scalp, massaging the oil in with her long, talented fingers. He trembled slightly. Was the act of oiling his scalp as sensual as he remembered? Or did he just miss her so much every memory had become a tactile experience bordering on the erotic?
Yeah, he missed her that much.
He should call her and tell her about the root rot.
After he’d dried off, he grabbed his robe, wrapped it around him, tied the belt, and sat on the bed. He picked up the phone to call Sara. He put it down again. The clock on the nightstand read 7:32. What did Sara do without him on a Saturday night?
Go out to dinner with friends? Go to a movie with friends? Soak in the tub? Read a good book? She was a voracious reader. She had almost as many books on her shelves at home as she did in her bookstore, the nutty woman.
God, he missed her.
But if he called her she would consider it a coup in their war of wills. Yes, she would count this battle as her victory.
He didn’t care.
He dialed her home number. The answering machine clicked into operation after the fourth ring. Sara’s voice said, “This is Sara. I’m unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Frannie’s voice then chimed in with, “Hey, it’s Frannie. You know the drill. Leave the digits or don’t leave the digits. No skin off my nose!”
Jason didn’t leave a message for Sara. She would see that he’d phoned because his number would be on her caller ID.
He hung up the phone, and dialed her cell’s number.
Sara was standing at the front door of the Hacienda when her cell phone rang.
She rang the doorbell, then fished in her shoulder bag for the phone.
Jason walked to the front door with the cordless phone to his ear.
She said hello into the mouthpiece just as he swung the door open.
Sara wasn’t wearing anything special, just her favorite kicking-around clothes, a full, flowing long-sleeve cotton shirt in purple and her favorite button-fly jeans which she’d worn so much, they were the shape of her hourglass figure.
The jeans hung low on her hips, so her bellybutton was visible due to the fact that she’d left the last three buttons of the shirt unfastened.
Smiling at Jason, she closed her cell phone and put it in her shoulder bag.
Grinning back at her, Jason clicked off the cordless phone.
She stepped inside. Jason closed the door and turned to face her. He set the cordless phone on the foyer table. Sara dropped her bag into the chair beside the table.
The air was electric around them. They circled each other warily.
Jason spoke first. “I wanted to tell you that I missed you.”
“Okay, tell me.”
“I need you.”
“I thought you said you missed me, not needed me.” Her eyes danced with happiness.
“In my mind they’re one and the same.”
“I need you, too. Should we establish this night as neutral ground? Whatever we do tonight will not be used as ammunition in case of further fighting.”
Jason’s heart was pounding excitedly. His voice cracked when he said, “I agree to your terms.”
Sara smiled wider and said with a mischievous note to her voice, “Okay, what do you want to do tonight,