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“Give me ten minutes.Ten.That’s all.”
“Oh my God, woman. What do youwant?”
“It’s the corn maze.” She gestured down the hill, where a jumbled mix of corn and hay was growing. He figured it was another one of Cliff’s weird ideas. He just hadn’t had time to plow it under yet.
“That’s a corn maze?”
“It’s supposed to be.” She grimaced. “The Blessing of the Grapes Festival is next month. I’m the chairperson.”
“And?”
They followed Hudson down the hill toward the shop. Zayne had always done his best to steer clear of the Rendezvous Falls festivals. That wasn’t easy, since they seemed to be constant in this town, clogging the roads with traffic and tourists. He knew they kept local businesses going, but it was torture for someone like him, who hated crowds.
Andrea had to hurry to keep up with his longer stride, but he didn’t slow for her. He had work to do.
“Look,” she said breathlessly, “that’s our corn maze. Wepaidfor it. It has to be cleaned up and ready.”
Her son was running his hands through the tiger lilies growing by the entrance to the shop as if he was playing a colorful harp. Zayne stopped by Andrea’s car, hoping she’d take the hint.
“Ready for what?”
“For thefestival!” Andrea threw her hands in the air as if he’d just asked the stupidest question. “We bus people to the farm from the festival and they go through the maze. Kids love it. Families love it.Everyoneloves it. And it’s the biggest fundraiser we have.”
“Fundraiser forwho?”
“For the committee, of course. We have to pay for insurance, advertising and prizes, then we need seed money fornextyear’s festival, and the remaining money goes into a fund to support the local vineyards.” Andrea looked up at him. “Did I mention Cliff has hosted the maze for over twenty years?”
None of this was making any sense—probably since he didn’t care about any of those things. Except maybe the local vineyards, since his brother Luke ran one of them.
“Cliff doesn’t own the farm anymore. And I amnotletting buses full of tourists come up here. Your ten minutes are up—” Her face fell, but there was no way he was allowing crowds of people on this farm. Then he thought of something she’d said. “What did you mean before when you said youpaidfor it?”
She brightened, probably thinking she still had a chance. She didn’t. He was just curious.
“The committee hired maze designers about ten years ago. That’s how we get the digital designs and...” Her voice trailed off. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” He shook his head and she rushed to tell him. “It’s all digitally designed these days. The companies sketch it out, then they come andplantthe maze using GPS to guide the tractors and deposit the seed as densely as possible. We paid to have that field planted this May.”
“Well, they did a piss-poor job of it. That field’s a mess.”
“It’s only a mess because it hasn’t been maintained!” Her voice rose and she paused to take a breath. “You’re supposed to mow the trails all summer, and the corn is notin rows on purpose, and...” She rolled her eyes, waving her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the maze, damn it. Just mowthe trails! In case you’ve forgotten, we paid good money to have that thing designed and planted.”
“And in caseyou’veforgotten, that’syourproblem.” He headed for the shop. “Find someone else’s cornfield to screw up.”
CHAPTER THREE
ANDREACOULDN’TBELIEVEZayne Rutledge had the nerve to turn his back on her as if her future wasn’t resting on the success of this festival. He walked into the shop, the door closing slowly behind him. She dashed forward and grabbed the handle just before it latched. She grabbed Hudson’s little hand and tugged him along as she marched inside.
The woodworking shop was larger than she expected. There were machines scattered around the floor. The drills and saws were slightly menacing. The walls were lined with racks of lumber. A massive worktable was directly in front of her, and there was a partially assembled fretwork there. It looked like beaded rays of the sun extending from a curved piece of molding. She’d seen similar frets inside the many Victorian houses in town.
“Thisis the woodworking you do?” She walked over and traced her fingers down one delicate spindle. Hudson put his fingers on the edge of the table and stood on tiptoe to see.
“It looks like lace, Momma!”
Zayne was glaring at her. “I didn’t invite you in.”
“You didn’t ban me from entering, either.”
“I told you to go away.I think the banning was implied.”
“Well...” Andrea looked around the tidy shop. “You know what they say about assuming...”
