Love Letters From Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [90]
“Not this time. Besides, you’re supposed to get up and move around every hour. It’s good for your circulation.”
Cici placed a light protective hand on Lori’s shoulder as she hobbled past, and Lori gave her an annoyed look when Cici gestured her toward the sunroom. “Mom, what .. .”
“Wait a minute.” Cici stopped her at the doorway and reached into her back pocket for a compact.
“What is that?” Lori flinched away as her mother began dabbing the makeup over the fading yellow bruises on her cheek.
“Just a little coverage. There.” She surveyed her work. “You can’t even see the bruises. Hold on. Just a little lip gloss...”
“Mom! What’s going on? Are you crazy?” She shrank back, trying to brush Cici’s hand away, but Cici smoothed a peachy coat of gloss over her daughter’s lips and tidied the corners before she stepped back.
“Probably” she admitted. “But there’s a nice young man waiting to talk to you who has been worried sick about why he hasn’t heard from you. The least you can do is thank him for his concern.”
Lori stared at her, and Cici directed her attention to the laptop computer that was set up on the wicker table that served as her temporary desk. Lori hobbled over to the computer, dropped down into the chair in front of it, and gasped. “Sergio!”
“Lori, bellissima! It is you, at last!”
Cici saw her daughter’s face light up in sheer delight as she exclaimed, “But how did you—when did you.. .”
And Cici closed the door quietly behind her as she left, smiling.
“So,” Lindsay said, as they walked toward Dominic’s truck, “how did you get from here to Cornell, and then back again?”
“Short version? I had this grand scheme to establish the finest winery in the U.S. Remember back then, no one believed California wines had a chance, and nothing decent was being produced south of New York, so after college I started apprenticing in some of the top wineries in the region ... which is where, of course, I fell in love, got married, and realized I had to have a real job. So I got into the graduate program at Cornell, thinking a degree would be the fastest way to a higher-paying job. I ended up teaching agriculture at Clemson for about twenty years. And after my wife died I decided to come back here. I’d always loved this part of the country, and I liked the work. I’ve been back eight years now.”
“How long were you married?”
“Thirty-three years.”
“You have children, don’t you?” She thought she vaguely remembered him mentioning a daughter, or perhaps a son, in one of their lazy front porch conversations.
“Three.” He grinned. “Two of them work for wineries in California. Seems that everybody was wrong about California wines.”
Lindsay smiled. “I feel like a bad neighbor. We’ve been acquainted for over a year, but never really got to know you.”
“We keep missing out on that dinner.”
“My fault.”
A short, rather awkward silence fell.
Then he said, “I remember the parties Judge Blackwell and his mother used to give when I was a boy here. They’d park cars three deep all up and down the driveway, and have somebody shuttle the guests up to the house.” He grinned. “I earned enough in tips to buy my own first car that way.”
“So, that’s how they did it!” Lindsay exclaimed. “I was wondering where everyone was going to park.”
“Sure:” He gestured toward the flat grassy area that spread out on either side of the tree-lined drive. “Get a couple of kids to direct traffic, there’s plenty of room. And I wouldn’t mind taking my old job back driving the shuttle if you need the help.”
She tilted her head at him. “You’d do that?”
“Sure. It’s not as though I have anything else to do on Saturday.”
She regarded him thoughtfully smiling. “You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I try to be.”
They had reached his truck, and he turned to look at her before opening the door. “Well, you let me know if you need any help.”
“Actually,” Lindsay said on a sudden breath, “I’m glad you’re not busy Saturday because as it happens I need an escort for the wedding, and I don’t suppose you’d be interested. In