Kiss Me Hello by L. K. Rigel

in J. Montague’s trunk.
    “Does anyone know how Joss Montague died?”
    “Who’s that?” Bram said.
    “The owner of Turtledove Hill before Amelia,” Peekie said. “The son of the first owner.”
    “Montague joined the navy after Pearl Harbor,” Gracien said. “He first leased the vineyards to my father while he was away. Only they weren’t vineyards. In those days it was all pears and hay.”
    “Prohibition killed the wine industry,” Bonnie said in a Little-Miss-Know-It-All voice. It reminded Sara of her favorite student—and her feelings about Bonnie softened too. Slightly.
    “After repeal,” Gracien continued, “my father replanted grapes on his land. When he leased Montague’s property he ripped out the pears and hay and planted more varieties, first the Gewürztraminer, then Riesling. I started the pinot noir twenty-five years ago, and last year we brought in our first pinot grigio.”
    “So he died in the war then,” Bram said. “Montague.”
    “No, he made it through,” Gracien said. “But when he came home he was changed. Wasn’t interested in Turtledove Hill. My family has continued to work the vineyards to this day.”
    Sara didn’t believe that. Not from what she’d read in Montague’s journal.
    “No one knows how he died,” Bonnie said. “It’s a mystery even now.”
    “A mystery to this day , ” Bram said. “Could be something to write about. A ghost story.”
    “No,” Sara said, louder than she’d meant to. “I…I don’t like ghost stories.”
    “Oh, babe.” Bram chuckled and kissed the back of her hand. “Don’t listen to her. My wife loves to teach nineteenth century gothic novels. She prefers Wuthering Heights to Jane Eyre. ”
    Bram was so wrong, but that wasn’t the point. The truth was she didn’t want him messing with Joss Montague’s story. He’d change it. Ruin it. Misunderstand, like Gracien Poole had done. Don’t let them have it, Aunt Amelia had said.
    Sara agreed. She felt protective of Turtledove Hill’s history and inhabitants, even one changed for the worse by war. Especially. And at this point Bram didn’t deserve her loyalty. Maybe he’d earn it back one day. Now she’d be loyal to Turtledove Hill.
    It’s a sad story,” Peekie said. “Montague’s wife Olivia was killed the year after he came back from the war, hit by a car. About a year after that, their little boy died in an influenza epidemic. Montague went missing a month later.”
    On to Olivia… Sara said, “Bonnie, didn’t you say Olivia Montague was your aunt?”
    “Great aunt.” Bonnie nodded. “My grandmother’s sister.”
    “When the flu hit Pelican Chase,” Peekie said, “Amelia was part of a group of high school girls who volunteered as nurses’ helpers. Girl Scouts or Job’s Daughters, something like that. She went out to Turtledove Hill to nurse Montague and his son. The boy was was just too young to fight it.”
    “And Montague?” Bram said.
    “He pulled through,” Peekie said. “But he was a broken man. He wouldn’t leave the house. Amelia stopped by every day and tried to get him to eat something, but he’d always send her away. And then one day he was just…gone.”
    Poole said, “My father went to the house to talk about buying the vineyards instead of renewing the lease, but Montague wasn’t there.”
    “Speaking of which,” Bonnie said, “Gracien is still ready to make a very good offer.”
    “Bonnie, this is hardly the time,” Peekie said.
    “I agree.” Gracien gave Bonnie a hard look across the table. He went on, “My father couldn’t find Montague anywhere. After a few days, the police chief organized a search, but it was no good. Nobody ever saw the man again. I imagine one day his body will be found in some obscure corner of the vineyards.”
    “Maybe he fell off a cliff,” Bonnie said.
    “Then he was food for the crabs and his bones washed out to sea,” Bram said, “which would explain why they never found him.”
    It must