“It’s numbers. Investors. Lots of travel. There isn’t much to discuss. Very dry business.”
“Do you know of any trips coming up?”
“I don’t usually know until I have to fly out. It’s one of the drawbacks.”
“Do you think you’ll stay in the field? In investments?” I wanted to know what challenges he liked. What inspired him. Was it numbers, or was it the job he used to have? The one he never revealed.
“Let’s not talk about work. We’re on vacation, aren’t we?”
“But I—”
He slid the sunglasses from his eyes. His damn gorgeous eyes got me every time. I decided not to press him anymore.
“Do you want to go get day drunk with me or not?”
I smiled. “I do. Very much so.”
“Then let’s go.” He led me into the barn.
I didn’t expect to see so many people inside. The inn was almost empty, but the wine tasting was packed. I looked up at two crystal chandeliers suspended from sturdy beams running overhead.
Vaughn and I started at one end of the barn and listened while the sommelier explained the pairings.
We moved on to the second station when I felt my phone buzz.
“Hold on just a second.” I winced. “I’m sorry it’s work.” I stepped outside, aggravated Meg had called.
“Hi,” I answered.
“I’m so sorry to call you on your weekend away, but I thought you needed to know about this.”
“What is it?” I rushed her. I wanted to get back inside.
“Lana Foley hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
“She hasn’t confirmed the Monday deposition?”
“No,” Meg answered. “I’ve left messages on her cell. I emailed her personal accounts and I haven’t heard back for the past three days.”
I exhaled. “Maybe she isn’t somewhere where she can respond.” She was supposed to tell her husband about the baby and the senator before the deposition.
If she hadn’t talked to him yet it made sense she wouldn’t answer Meg’s calls.
“For three days? I think you need to try and see if you can reach her. Maybe she’ll answer if it’s you instead of me.”
“It shouldn’t make a difference. This is her case. If she wants to sue him, she has to show up.” I lectured as if Meg was responsible.
“But what if it’s something else?”
I could see Vaughn through the sliding farm doors of the barn. He was listening intently to the lesson on the next wine. He stood out in the small gathering. I would have noticed him in any crowded room. The way he held his frame. His strong arms. His eyes.
“It’s Saturday, Meg. Saturday.” It almost came out as a whine.
“Have I ever called you on Saturday before?” she prodded.
“No.”
“I’ll text you her number. Can you at least call? Please?”