The Vineyard Read Online Free PDF Page B

you?”
    â€œLet’s talk in a day or two.”
    â€œBut what about the North End Bistro?”
    She fought for patience. “I said no.”
    â€œYou said you might change your mind.”
    â€œYou
said that.
I
said I couldn’t make it.”
    â€œSounds like you’re in a lousy mood—Otis must’ve been in a snit again—what an ornery son-of-a-B he is—good thing he’s retiring—a few more years with him and you’d be a basket case—so listen, I’ll call you later.”
    She took a breath.
“No,
Ted. Good Lord, give me a
break!”
    â€œHey—don’t get upset—jeez, look at the time—I have to go—much later and the meatheads will have taken over the gym—they spend their evenings there—lifting is their idea of culture—I’ll call you tomorrow.” He hung up before she could argue.
    Olivia stood for a moment wondering how she could get through to the man, when Tess said, “Maybe he’s dyslexic. He doesn’t hear, either.”
    â€œYou hear,” she scolded. Heading off to change clothes, she was struck with a sudden attack of self-pity. Between a school crisis, a maternal rejection, and Ted it had been one hell of an hour. She deserved a prize for valor.
    Doing an about-face, she returned to the front door andbrought her briefcase back to the sofa. The minute she opened it, a hint of freesia escaped. She took out Natalie Seebring’s envelope and held it for a minute.
    Don’t let me down, Natalie Seebring,
she thought and, for the second time, opened the clasp. Leaving the cover letter and the yellow envelope addressed to Otis inside, she drew out the pictures and laid them on her lap. Slowly, savoring each, she studied one after the other.
    She knew the cast of characters by now. There were pictures of Natalie and her husband, and of Natalie, her husband, and the children. Some of the pictures included a new baby. A new baby! There was no sign of the older son in those. Sifting through, she saw no picture of the three children together at all. That was odd.
    Then again, not so, she realized. This new baby was a late-in-life child, a little surprise born to two people still in love. The older son was probably away at boarding school, even college. Olivia imagined him at Harvard. She half expected to see a picture of him wearing football gear with the college letter on his shirt.
    She didn’t find one like that, but she did find a picture of the daughter at her wedding. There were pictures of Natalie’s husband in the vineyard, with and without vineyard workers. Judging from the long sideburns worn by the men, this batch was from the sixties and seventies. There were also construction photos. It looked as though a new building was going up at the vineyard—an on-site winery, said the construction sign. She couldn’t wait to see the building when it was done.
    Olivia was relaxing already. She had never visited a vineyard, but everything she had seen in the photographs of this one spoke of prosperity, easy living, lots of sunshine, sweet grapes, and goodwill. She couldn’t wait to see photos from the eighties and nineties, imagined scads of grandchildren hanging over the porch of the Great House, stacked in rows with their parents on the wide stone steps, lined up around picnic tables for the vineyard harvest.
    These latest photos wouldn’t need much repair. There were a few stains, a few spots where the emulsion had bubbled. There were several corner folds that had caused cracks, and some prints that were curled or bent. The largest problem—always the case in her work—was fading, but it was easily solved by copying the photo onto high contrast paper and enhancing the image with filters. Onlyin rare instances, such as the Dorothea Lange print, was handwork involved. Natalie’s pictures wouldn’t need that. By and large they entailed more preservation than