When I slide into the car, I don’t miss the curious look Donovan gives me.
“Change of plans today. I need you to take me to the racetrack. And some other places.”
He grins. “I’d love nothing more, Mrs. Bellanti.”
Anxiety grips me, and while I appreciate the light teasing in his words, I just want to get going.“Great, then let’s go.” I wait until he’s situated in the front seat, then lean forward and check out the list I’m furiously scribbling. “Breezeway racetrack first, then Sonoma.”
He puts the car into drive. “Feeling lucky today?”
Don’t I wish.
The track is only marginally occupied, most people at the bar having a drink and something to eat. The race schedule is light considering it’s a weekday. Not my father’s normal time to be here. He prefers the bigger races, the rowdier crowds, so he has an excuse to drink more. Knowing it’s likely futile, I scour the restaurant, the bar, and the stands. The barns are nearly empty, as is every other place he might be in the damned complex.
Before I leave, I give my dad’s cell a call. I hear one ring before I get sent to voicemail. My hairline tingles. Either his phone has been shut off or it’s dead.
Frustrated, though not surprised, I leave and have Donovan take me to my father’s second favorite racetrack in Sonoma. There’s not a lot going on, save for the usual suspects bellied up to the bar. After checking all the places I can think of, I return to the car and we hit the strip of bars and nightclubs my father likes to frequent. But most of his favorite haunts aren’t open this early in the day. The ones that are offer a handful of people who claim to know nothing. I skip out of each establishment as quick as I can, not wanting to push my luck on this side of town.
Back at the Abbott compound, I go directly to my father’s shambles of an office. Looking for anything that could tell me who the car tamperer was, or where my dad might be, I begin a divide and conquer of every drawer and cabinet I can get into. Some of the desk drawers are locked and I’m tempted to break into them, but I think about the repercussions if, when, my dad suddenly shows up again. Knowing him, he’s probably just sleeping it off on some random woman’s couch and he’ll stumble in when he’s sober enough.
I tell myself this, but my heart doesn’t believe it.
“Hey.” Charlie’s voice startles me. She’s standing in the doorway, holding a tray of tea and cookies. “I’ve already been through all of this. Did you find anything?”
The bite of frustrated tears irritates my eyes. “Nada. Not a damn thing. No one has seen him, he’s not at the track, and there’s nothing here but an empty calendar, a bunch of overdue bills, and a pile of empty beer cans under his desk.”
Our eyes meet and the depth of my concern is mirrored back at me by my sister. She tilts her head. “Come on. Let’s have a drink on the balcony. Best view in the whole joint.”
And it is. I cross the room and open the doors to the balcony, and we step out into the sun. It’s warm and everything is golden and bright. Livvie is riding in the paddock, blonde ponytail bouncing in time with the horse’s hoofbeats.
Charlie sets the tray on a metal bistro table and pours the tea for us. Hugging myself, I soak up the sun while taking in what a dilapidated, sad mess the winery’s grounds are. The paddock where Livvie rides is surrounded by a fence that’s sagging and crooked. The back of the barns are visible from here, the wood terribly aged, peeling and broken in many places. Nothing is tended. Everything is overgrown.It’s the perfect picture of neglect, and it hurts to see it.
Charlie hands me a steaming cup. “A couple contacted me the other day about having their wedding here.”
I arch a brow. “Really?”
She makes a face. “Yup. They’d heard about thefabulousgrounds and thought it would be wonderful to get married at a historic winery like this one.”
“Oh dear. So what happened?”
She takes a small sip. “They took one look at the place in person and very quickly backed out. I don’t think they were even here for ten minutes. Not that I blame them.”
We both sigh. This scenario is easy to imagine. I mean, just look at this place. It’s literally falling apart. The buildings are historic, but they’re about to be old piles of wood and brick if something doesn’t turn around.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know what it would mean for your wedding planning business if you could use this place as a venue.”
“Yeah. It’d be great to actually get to do some work. Oh well.”
She shrugs and sips her tea while leaning over the balcony railing. I move next to her and we look down below at Livvie on her huge black horse. He’s moving around the ring with a high step trot while our little sister sits tall in the saddle, her back straight, arms up and out as she holds the reins.
I can almost read the guilt that I know is playing through Charlie’s head right now. She’d love this place to be fabulous for our little sister. The barns returned to their glory, the grounds perfectly manicured and tended. Hell, I’d settle with functional. A barn that Livvie wouldn’t have to try to fix herself in order to keep her horses comfortable. A house with appliances that work and floors that don’t bow and flex when you walk across them.
Smiling at Livvie, Charlie says, “I guess the Abbott sisters just get better with every version that comes out, right? Maybe if you and I work hard enough, she’ll get to have a happy ending of her own someday.”
“That’s not fair to you, Char. You had to be a mom for all of us when ours walked out. You never had time for yourself or your own dreams. Mom and Dad failed us. You didn’t.”
I finish my drink, wishing there were something stronger in it than raspberry tea. Charlie’s got that far-off look on her face. It’s her standard expression when she’s mentally beating herself up.
I lean my head on her shoulder. She smells like subtle citrusy perfume and fresh laundry. “Hey,” I say. “In my eyes, you were the best big sister anyone could ask for.”
