He picked up the bottle, crossed the room and refilled John’s glass.
“Take it easy,” he said quietly.
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” John swallowed more wine and lowered the glass. “Luke’s in serious trouble. It was bad enough that he fell apart after he and Katy ended their engagement. But now he’s involved with a woman who may be in worse shape than he is.”
“Maybe you should back off and give him some time and space, John.”
John raised stark eyes to look at him. “If I give him too much time and space, I may lose him. Va yke says this PTSD thing is unpredictable. There’s no telling what might happen if I don’t get hi nto treatment.”
Gordon put his hand on John’s shoulder. “This is about Sarah, isn’t it?”
“Hell, yes, it’s about Sarah.” John shoved himself up out of his chair and started to pace the room.
“He’s her son. Van Dyke says that a tendency toward depression and self-destructive behavior ca ave a strong genetic component. Add to that the trauma of combat and what happened to him the weekend he and Katy went away together, and you’ve got a very dangerous mix.”
“He’s your son, too, and he’s got your genes. He’s not a carbon copy of Sarah.”
“I know that.” John shoved his hands through his hair. “But I can’t take the risk of hoping that he’l ull out of this on his own. Van Dyke says he may be a ticking bomb.”
“I know this is hard on you, John. It’s hard on me, too. I’ve known Luke since he was born. You think I’m not worried about him? But he’s a grown man, not a boy.
You can advise, but you can’t force hi o seek counseling.”
“What am I supposed to do?” John stopped in front of the hearth. “Pretend that he’s going to get bette n his own? Ignore all the signs the way I did with his mother?”
“You did not ignore Sarah. She was clinically depressed. You are not responsible for the fact that she took her own life.”
“Maybe not.” John turned around very slowly. “But I don’t think I could live with myself if Luke did something like that.”
“Luke has always gone his own way. And he can be extremely stubborn.” He smiled wearily. “Lik said, he’s your son, John.”
“I talked to Van Dyke again this afternoon.” John’s face went stony with renewed resolve. “I told he hat Luke would be in town tonight and tomorrow morning. She said there was one more thing we could try. But she needs the cooperation of everyone in the family.
That includes you.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, whatever it is. But you’re my friend. You know damn well you don’t have to ask me twice to help you.”
Twenty-Nine
Vicki Danner was a stylish woman with an assured, self-confident manner. Her patrician feature howed the long-term benefits of regular professional facials. Of course, Irene thought, the good bones didn’t hurt. Dressed in a classic gray sheath, diamonds glittering in her ears and around her throat, sh as the picture of expensive, tasteful elegance.
Irene had seen Vicki in action earlier in the evening and knew that John Danner’s wife could be incredibly charming. But at the moment, Vicki was not in charm mode. She wanted answers and she intended t et them.
“Are you involved in Luke’s new business venture?” Vicki asked with a thin smile.
Irene blanked. “Business venture?”
“The ridiculous little motel he bought in Dunsley.”
“Oh, the lodge.” Irene took a sip of her sauvignon blanc while she considered her answer. “Hard t hink of that as a viable business venture, to tell you the truth. At least not with Luke at the helm. Bu o answer your question, no, I’m not involved. I’m happy with my job at the Beacon.
The doughnut re better.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Forget it.”
“How did you meet Luke?” Vicki asked.
“You could say I paid for the introduction.”
Vicki frowned.
“I meant I’m a paying guest at the lodge,” Irene said hastily.
“This is just a casual relationship, then?”
Irene thought about the kaleidoscopic series of events that had taken place since she first encountered Luke, culminating in the most intense sexual experience of her entire life.
“Not any longer,” she said, feeling decidedly more cheerful and relaxed. The wine was working, she thought.
Vicki’s smile held no hint of warmth. “When did you find out that Luke’s father owns half of the Elena Creek Vineyards?”
“Jason mentioned it when he visited Luke in Dunsley the other day.”
“And the next thing we know, Luke is bringing you to a private family gathering.
Interesting.”
Irene looked through the windows at the large, well-heeled crowd milling around the winery’s resplendent main reception room. “Gee, I wouldn’t consider that an event with a guest list of a few hundred people qualified as a private family gathering. But I suppose it’s all relative, isn’t it?”
Vicki looked baffled. “What?”
Irene cleared her throat. “That was supposed to be a clever little play on words.
Family gathering? Relative? Get it?”
Vicki glanced past Irene’s right shoulder. “Here comes Katy You two met earlier, I believe.”
“Yes.” Irene braced herself and turned to smile at the lovely woman gliding toward them across the terrace.
Blond, blue-eyed and dainty, Katy Foote was one of those delicate, ethereal-looking women who made men want to strap on shining armor and go out to slay a few dragons. But within five seconds of meeting her, Irene had decided that she liked her, anyway.
Katy wore a gown of pale azure silk that screamed high-end designer. In a very subtle way, of course.
It dawned on Irene that, dressed in the severely cut little black number that she had managed to find on the marked-down rack in a mall department store that afternoon, she probably looked like the Wicked Witch of Glaston Cove standing next to a dignified queen and a lovely fairy-tale princess.
There’s a reason why clothes end up on sale, she reminded herself. It’s because no one else wante hem. But she had not been able to justify digging into her hard-earned savings to buy a fabulously expensive gown for the evening, knowing that she would probably never wear the dress again.
“Hello, Katy,” Vicki said. “I was just talking to Irene about how she came to meet Luke. She told m hat she’s staying at his lodge in Dunsley”