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“You’re sure now? How about that ankle?”
“It’s okay.”
“Good . . . that’s good. Are you going to tell me all about your fall in the creek?”
“Do you really want to know?” Emily asked skeptically.
Jeff’s thin smile wavered. “Of course I do, precious,” he replied, patting the top of her hand nervously. He led her over to the chaise lounge and indicated that she should sit with him. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?” He pressed the tip of his finger awkwardly against her nose.
Noah felt his stomach lurch at Coleridge’s stumbling attempts at paternity. While the man turned all of his attention upon his child, Noah took his leave, heading in the direction of the west wing.
Sheila watched Noah stride angrily across the yard, and she had to suppress the urge to run after him. Until she was assured that Emily was comfortable with Jeff, Sheila felt her responsibility was to remain with her child.
Noah was soon out of sight and Sheila swung her eyes back toward Jeff and Emily. Her gaze met the brittle dark stare of her ex-husband. “How long hashebeen here?” he sneered.
“About a week.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
“He’s helping me reestablish the winery.”
“I bet he is.” The insinuation in Jeff’s flat statement couldn’t be ignored.
“Look, Jeff. I like Noah. . . . I like him a lot. Not that it’s any concern of yours.”
“He’s an arrogant SOB, don’t you think?”
Sheila’s eyes flew to Emily’s young face and then back to Jeff, silently warning him against any further derogatory remarks while Emily was close at hand.
“I think he’s a very kind and considerate man.”
“And I’m not?”
“I didn’t say that.” Sheila shot Jeff another threatening glance. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Somehow she had to change the course of the conversation, for Emily’s sake.
Jeff tried to relax and appear comfortable. “Got anything stronger?” he inquired, running a shaky hand through his neatly combed hair.
“I think so.”
“Good.” He let out his breath. “Make it a vodka martini.”
“All right. It will take me a few minutes.” He didn’t argue. He, too, must have been looking for a way to avoid further disagreement. Sheila turned toward the house, her eyes still searching for Noah, when Jeff’s voice reached her. “With a twist, okay?”
She nodded curtly without glancing back in his direction, muttering under her breath, “With a twist . . . with a twist.” Sheila had forgotten how demanding Jeff could be—a real pain in the neck. Damn him for ruining the peaceful afternoon. Damn him for interrupting what she had hoped would be an intimatefamilymeal.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? She considered Noah and Sean as part of the family, while she looked upon Jeff as an outsider, an intruder who would only cause trouble.
Her chestnut hair swept across her shoulders as she shook her head at her own foolishness. What had she expected? she asked herself as she walked into the den.
She was startled to find Noah sitting at the desk, going over the original blueprints for the west wing of the château. A pencil was in his hand, its lead point tapping restlessly on the yellowed paper. He didn’t move when he heard the sound of Sheila’s sandaled feet enter the room, nor did he speak. Instead he stared broodingly at the blueprints, seemingly engrossed in the faded drawing. Sheila could feel the rift between them deepen, and she wondered if she had the courage to bridge it.
“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” she began as she moved across the room to the bar to pull out a bottle of vodka. The pencil stopped its erratic tapping on the desk.
Noah’s voice was controlled to the point of exasperation. “Don’t apologize to me. It’s none of my concern.”
“But it is,” she disagreed. “And I didn’t mean for it to tum into a circus.”
“Didn’t you? Don’t kid yourself, Sheila. You were the one who invited him here. How could you possibly expect things to turn out differently?” ·
