Before I could respond, Jamie chimed in, “Susan said she’d walk her up.”

“Well then, I must be going. Kate, I guess we have to give this another shot when I’m back in town on Thursday, although I don’t think either one of us is too thrilled about that.” He turned without addressing Jamie and headed toward the door.

I couldn’t hold back, and once he was out of earshot, I let out the sigh I had been holding back. “What a total jackass.”

Jamie nodded and then reached over and grabbed my hands in his. “Listen, forget about him—just write about the winery. We all love it here. He was being a jackass, but it’s not a reflection of what we do. Susan and Guillermo and I will show you everything that we do here.” There was urgency in his voice. “Listen, Katy, go up to your room and relax, I’ll have the chef send up something special. I’m really sorry about R.J.”

“Are you related to Susan?” I asked. He jerked his head back in surprise. “Well, I just saw the way you spoke to her, and it looked like she was comforting you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I guess I would say that Susan has been sort of like a mom to me. She got me this job.”

“Huh, interesting.” I stood slowly from my barstool. “I have a lot of questions.” I said it softly, almost to myself, but I knew Jamie heard me.

“Let’s pick up this conversation later. Do you have any food allergies, or is there anything you don’t eat?”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Okay.” He smiled warmly at me. There was silence as we stared at each other. The connection was palpable. “Truffle mushroom risotto?”

I was in a daze, still staring into his eyes and he into mine. It felt like he was burrowing into the depths of my soul. He was captivating me, enchanting me with fancy names for rice dishes. I must have been very hungry.

“Is that hyperbole?”

“No.” He laughed. “It’s Chef Mark’s signature dish.”

“It sounds amazing.”

He paused then whispered, “You’re beautiful.”

“I have a boyfriend.” I whispered back.

“You mentioned that.”

Right at that moment my knees buckled, but luckily Susan had suddenly appeared at my side and grabbed me from around the waist, hitching me up.

“You need to eat, young lady. You’re a waif, and we don’t want you passing out on us,” she said.

I looked up at Jamie, who shrugged. “She’s right. Up to your room, young lady.”

Susan pulled me toward the door, and I turned and spoke over my shoulder. “Bye, Jamie. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“At least,” he said, grinning.

Walking toward the inn, I took the opportunity to drill Susan.

“Does Jamie ride a motorcycle?”

“No.”

“Is he in a band?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What about rodeo. Does he rodeo?”

She laughed. “Jamie does a great many things around the R.J. Lawson property. He is our resident jack-of-all-trades—you’ll see that for yourself over the next few days. And while I see you’ve picked up on some of his bad boy tendencies, he really is just a sweet, good ol’ boy.” Her smile flattened abruptly as she squared her small frame and looked me right in the eyes. “You should know that he’s like a son to me. He’s experienced great personal loss and betrayal by the people who were supposed to love him. He’s found a home and a family in this place. I hope you don’t come in here looking for some kind of story in all of this. Or maybe you’re looking for a fling? If so, you’re looking in the wrong place,” she said with a perfunctory smile.

“Whoa, Susan. Jamie seems like he can take care of himself,” I said. She shrugged. “Anyway, I was just curious. I have a boyfriend, by the way.”

“Who are you reminding of that fact?”

My eyes began to well up. She was putting me on the spot and embarrassing me, but I held back the tears. I was a professional.

“I’m looking for details for the article, that’s it. I’m supposed to be writing an article on R. J. Lawson and, well . . . you know how that interview went.” I said the last part with a huge lump in my throat.

“I’m sorry, Kate. He acted very inappropriately. That is not what we’re about here, and I’ve asked that he complete the interview via e-mail so you don’t have to go through that all over again on Thursday.”

“What? No! My whole reason for being here is to conduct the interview in person. I won’t get the answers I need if he can calculate all of his responses in an e-mail.”

She tilted her head to the side and then huffed. “That man has a very small role in the operations here.”

I pointed my finger up to the sky. “I knew it! It’s just his big, fat, stupid wallet, isn’t it? Everybody thinks he’s like this genius, but he probably just throws his money at everything.”

She took a deep breath. “I know where you’re headed, Kate. Look, the staff will show you around and let you in on how we run the winery, restaurant, and inn. It’s up to you what goes in that article, but I know by now you’ve heard that R.J. has veto power, so I hope you’ll think twice about how you approach your commentary.”

We entered the large, three-story bed-and-breakfast and went up a small flight of stairs to the first level. I held on to the fine, polished, wooden banister until we reached the landing. She handed me a key. “Your room is here. Your dinner should be up soon. I hope we can all start fresh tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’m looking forward to it,” I said sincerely. I’m going to get a story no matter what.

She smiled and headed down the stairs, shouting back, “You’ll get an itinerary under your door in the morning.”

Wow, an itinerary? This was one carefully organized operation.

I shut the door and leaned against it, surveying the room, then slowly made my way around. It was finely decorated in the same Arts and Crafts style as the lobby. Great taste. It had a Mission-style four-poster bed next to double doors leading out to a small balcony housing two captain’s chairs. The bathroom had a beautiful claw-foot tub, with gold fixtures and ornate tiles running along the walls, framing a porcelain pedestal sink. I collapsed into the feather bed covered in white fluffy pillows and an eyelet duvet and proceeded to type a text to Stephen.

Kate: I’m okay, not that you care.

Stephen: Do you realize how late it is here?

I’d really had a colossal mind-fuck of a day, but I was feeling feisty and decided to go for it.

Kate: Do you love me?

My phone rang instantly.

“What’s going on, sweetie?”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know where I’m at and what I’m doing?”

“You’re out of town on an assignment.”

“I’m not in the fucking Secret Service, Stephen. I told you where I was going, but of course you weren’t listening.”

“You’ve been distant.”

“Me?” I said in shock.

He sighed. “Ever since Rose died and you started having that dream, Kate—that bizarre fucking dream—and following that homeless dude around on the train like you worship him. I don’t get what’s going on with you. I wouldn’t blame you for losing your mind for a little while, but this has been going on for months.”

“I . . .”

“No, listen. We’re different, Kate; we always have been. Things have felt wrong for a long time.”

“Hold on. Are you beating me to the punch, you asshole?! You’re trying to break up with me first?”

“Listen . . .”

“No, you listen, Stephen. God, how can you be so heartless? It’s not a dream I keep having about Rose, it’s a fucking nightmare, and sometimes I wake up from it and realize the nightmare is real. She’s gone, just like my mother. She’s never coming back, but her sad, lonely life still haunts me. I was all she had, and then when she was gone, it was like she never existed. I’m terrified I’ll end up the same way, but at least I had you, though now I’m not sure I ever did . . . It doesn’t matter now.” I calmed down while Stephen remained silent. “It doesn’t matter now because I don’t want you. I’ll tell you why I’ve been listening to Bob on the train. It’s because he’s right. I’m all I’ve got.”

I began crying but made certain Stephen couldn’t hear me. Then he finally said in the calmest voice, “Well, I guess that’s it then, Kate,” indifference seeping through every syllable.

I swallowed. “Tell me the truth. Do you really think you love me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think by now you should know.” My voice cracked.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“So that’s your answer?”

Without waiting for him to respond, I hung up, feeling more stupefied than sad. The tears had stopped. I was shocked—not that I was losing Stephen, but that I had wasted two years of my life with someone who didn’t love me. I guessed my reaction meant that I wasn’t in love with him, either. Stunned, I stared at a tiny crack in the wall for several moments until I heard three rapid knocks. A shiver ran through me before I hopped off the bed and ran to the door, swinging it open dramatically. There was an older man carrying a tray. Had it been Jamie, I might have jumped into his arms. “Your dinner, ma’am.” I stepped aside and let him set the tray on the small dining table in the corner of the room. “Truffle mushroom risotto and a bottle of our 2009 Pinot Noir, compliments of Chef Mark Struthers and R. J. Lawson.”

“Oh, right!” I laughed maniacally, making a crazy cackling sound. The day had really gotten to me. The waiter gave me a frightened look as he opened the bottle of wine and proceeded to pour a glass.

“Enjoy, ma’am,” he said and then hurried out the door. Once he was gone, I plopped onto the bed again as the tears began flowing once more. I thought about Stephen and tried to conjure up one truly happy memory with him besides him fucking me on the washer in the basement, which could hardly be deemed as happy. In retrospect, our time together was mediocre at best.