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“Maeve’s had the pleasure.” His face soured.
Rosie quirked a brow, side glimpsed Bea, then gestured toward the crowded dining-room table and packed living room. “If you can’t find empty chairs, the back porch and gazebo have plenty of seating.” She squeezed my hand. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” Then remembering the diary, I pulled the thin notebook from my purse and pressed it into her hand. “This was Marianna’s journal, and I’d like you to have it.”
“No.” Rosie’s jaw dropped. “I can’t take something so valuable.”
“It’s hardly valuable.” I eyed the water-stained diary.
“Because it was Marianna’s, its sentimental value is priceless.”
“This is just one of many, and we’ve already read it. Now it’s yours.”
“Thank you.” Rosie clasped the booklet to her chest.
“Thank you for welcoming me.”
“Of course. You’re family.” She gestured toward the buffet table. “Now, go eat and enjoy yourselves. Meet the rest of the family.”
Bea’s mouth opened as if to remark.
Luke flicked her a sharp glance.
Intervening, I tugged his hand as I inhaled the smoky, mouthwatering aromas wafting from the table. “The barbacoa smells wonderful. Let’s get in line.”
He turned toward me, his face relaxing, then gave Rosie a hug. “Being the family historian, you’ll enjoy the diary.”
As we walked away, I spoke under my breath. “What was that exchange about with Bea?”
“What exchange?” His eyes innocent, he shrugged.
“Don’t play dumb.” I wrinkled my nose. “If looks could kill, you’d be arrested for homicide.”
“I don’t trust her.” He took a deep breath. “But I am hungry, so, yes, let’s get in line.”
Five minutes later, I set my overloaded plate on the metal table and glanced about the octagonal gazebo. “Everyone else is on the porch or inside.”
“Good.” He grinned. “I’ve got you all to myself.”
“How am I supposed to meet the family?” Hunching my shoulders, I lifted my hands.
“You will…later, but I want to be sure you’ve thought through this winery investment.”
“The dime was yours from the start. I shouldn’t have phrased it as an investment.”
“That’s the only reason I considered your offer.” He met my gaze. “I’d rather you put the money toward a car.”
“Splitting this windfall is the only reasonable solution. Besides…” I laughed at myself for not questioning the online quote earlier. “The estimated value and the going rate may be as different as chalk and cheese.”
“Good point.”
Then from the corner of my eye, I caught movement at the edge of the backyard. “Is that a roadrunner?”
****
He turned his head, following her gaze.
The unmistakable gait of the brown and white-streaked bird gave it away. Stopping mid-stride, the roadrunner puffed its head crest like a cockatoo.
