The Vineyard by Barbara Delinsky Page B

she hangs up with me.”
    Olivia gave the phone a quick look. “Shall I?”
    â€œPlease.”
    She lifted the receiver. “Seebring residence.”
    â€œIs this Olivia Jones?” asked an authoritative voice, and for a split second Olivia feared she had unknowingly committed a crime and been tracked down by the FBI—or, worse, by
Ted
.
    But it wasn’t Ted’s voice. Besides, she had barely
arrived
. Nonetheless, such a call would be typical Ted. Perhaps he was using a friend as a foil?
    â€œWho’s calling?” she asked guardedly.
    â€œGreg Seebring. Is this Olivia?”
    She relaxed. Natalie was right; Susanne must have given him her name. No crime committed, and even better, no Ted. She was free. “Yes, this is Olivia.”
    â€œI’m Natalie’s son, and let me tell you, I don’t have the time to make this call. I have problems of my own right now, but my sister isdriving me nuts because our mother is driving
her
nuts. I just want to tell you this. Natalie is behaving oddly. This marriage is inappropriate and untimely. I suspect that with Dad gone she’s just needing someone else to lean on, and the nearest one for that is Carl. It could be that there’s a Burke conspiracy to take over the vineyard, I don’t know yet, but if so, it won’t work.”
    Olivia had been thinking merger, as in an amicable union of two powerful families. She didn’t have to be a finance expert to know that a takeover could be hostile. “Perhaps,” she said, “you ought to talk to your mother.”
    â€œI don’t have time for that. I also don’t have the
energy
for it. My mother and I function on entirely different levels. I just want
you
to know that
we
know what’s going on, and that if you do anything to aid and abet the Burke cause, we’ll consider you part of the conspiracy. Good God, you may be anyway. Did Carl hire you?”
    â€œNo, and I know nothing of what you’re talking about.”
    â€œHoney,” he said with a dark laugh, “I deal with political animals day in, day out, and one thing I’ve learned is that when they insist they know nothing, like you just did, they know plenty. I’m wise to the situation. Consider yourself warned. Give my regards to my mother.” He hung up.
    Replacing the handset, Olivia wondered for the first time about the exact nature of the hornet’s nest Natalie had mentioned. One vineyard taking over another was serious stuff. The family could be torn apart. Natalie could move to Napa. Asquonset could fold. Olivia could be implicated in a lawsuit that could drag on for years.
    â€œHe’s angry,” Natalie said.
    Her voice put Olivia’s speculation on hold. “I think he’s worried.” That sounded gentler.
    â€œBut not worried enough to get on a plane and fly up here,” Natalie charged. “Did he mention his conspiracy theory?”
    â€œUm … in passing.”
    Natalie’s eyes grew sad. “This should be a happy time,” she said and for a brief moment succumbed to the sadness. Then she drew herself up and regained visible resolve. “It
is
a happy time. Come, I’ll show you around. Then I want you to meet Carl.”

Six
 
    P RECONCEPTIONS LINGERED . Olivia had already seen that the Great House wasn’t as large as she had imagined it to be, yet the interior startled her. Through all these months and so many pictures, she had envisioned room after room, alcove after alcove, sofa after settee after Louis XVI chair, with the ghosts of guests mingling, eating, talking, sleeping. What she saw in reality was smaller and simpler—exquisitely decorated, with designer furnishings and every modern convenience, but far more casual than formal.
    Undaunted, she amended her thinking from grand and large to charming and small. There would be no indiscriminate galas in this place. Visitors would be carefully selected.