The Winemakers by Jan Moran

Author:Jan Moran
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466850033
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

21

JUNE 1929 — NEW YORK CITY

Seated at the Queen Anne writing desk at the Plaza Hotel, Ava gazed at the telegraph that had just arrived. Her grandfather’s friend from France, who now lived in Napa, California, had wired the banking information she’d asked him for.

Did she dare put her plan in motion? Luca couldn’t be bothered about the future; he was living the high life with his new friends here in New York. Their cash reserves were dwindling with his lavish lifestyle.

The truth was that she simply couldn’t bear living in a hotel a moment longer with a madman she feared. But was she up to traveling across a vast, unknown country alone? And taking the chance that Luca might not join her later?

Part of her hoped he wouldn’t follow her. But she knew he would. He’d follow her money. Violetta had informed him she’d spent his inheritance to gain his freedom. He would have to work or start a business.

Ava raised her head and stared at herself in the gilt-edged mirror. Though her face was smooth, she felt old, much older than her years.

Ava secured her waves with a platinum clip and trailed a subtle lilac perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. As she did, she thought of Violetta and all that she had left behind in Montalcino. She would make Violetta proud, she resolved.

She rose and chose one of her best dresses from the cherrywood armoire, smoothing the lavender silk Jean Patou design over her satin slip. She’d lost so much weight on the voyage after her miscarriage that the dress hung loosely on her. She arranged a matching felt cloche hat over her neatly coiled hair and then clasped her T-strap shoes. She called the bell desk for a taxi.

Before she could leave, Luca burst through the door. “Where you goin’?” His speech was slurred, and it was only two o’clock in the afternoon. He flopped on his back onto the bed, his broad chest heaving from the mere exertion of walking to their suite. His long legs dangled onto the Persian carpet.

“Shopping.” Ava slipped the telegram into her purse.

Luca stretched a hand toward her. “Come to papa, baby.”

He stank of alcohol. Ava suppressed a shudder. “I will not. You’re drunk again.”

“I’m celebrating.”

Ava pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves and picked up her purse.

“Don’t you want to know what?” He paused to belch. “It’s Tuesday,” he said, pulling his shirt free and unzipping his pants. “Let’s celebrate together.”

Ava had once been seduced by his charming manner and dimpled cheeks, but she had finally had enough. “Don’t let me stop you,” she said in a cold voice. “Aren’t your friends waiting for you somewhere?”

Luca scowled at her and zipped his pants. “Is that the way you want it now?”

“I want you to stop playing with your friends and plan a future for us. For the family we both want. You destroyed our life in Italy; don’t do it here, too.” Ava turned away before he could reach her, and she slammed the door to their suite behind her.

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