"I'm sure Marta would be delighted to hear that," he said.
"I'm not saying I don't care for Marta. I do. But a man who lets himself think he's in love is a man in trouble."
Travis looked at his father. The old man was staring into the distance. His voice had lost its lazy Texas drawl, and gone flat.
"You sound as if you're speaking from experience," Travis said softly.
Jonas went on staring for another couple of seconds. Then he took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders and laughed.
"Man gets to be my age, he's seen enough to know you don't have to be a jackass to recognize one."
Travis sipped at his bourbon. "You going to get around to telling me what this job is you'd like me to handle for you?"
His father eased into his favorite leather armchair. His motions were fluid but slower than they'd once been. He really was 'getting old, Travis thought suddenly. To his surprise, he felt an unexpected twinge of compassion.
"Here's the situation." Jonas sat back and crossed his feet at the ankles. "I got me a deal in the works. A company I want to buy, in your neck of the woods. Well, your neck of the woods, figuratively speakin'. It's up in the Napa Valley."
"That's wine country, Father."
Jonas chuckled. "And a good thing it is, considerin' that the company I'm lookin' at makes wine."
"You? Buying a vineyard?"
"Baron money is invested in lots of things, Travis. If you paid more attention, you'd know that."
Travis sat down opposite Jonas and told himself not to respond to the taunt.
"If you just want some contracts checked out, I know a couple of guys in Northern California I can recommend."
"You're supposed to know somethin' about wine, isn't that right, boy?"
"I know enough about it to know what I like to drink and don't like, but if you're thinking I know anything about vineyards—"
"I got me a bunch of business managers but not a one of 'em I'd trust to tell a Zinfandel from a Beaujolais." Jonas smiled. "What's wrong, son? You look as if you jes' stepped on a fire ant."
"Nothing," Travis said evenly, "except that I'm amazed to hear those two words rolling off your tongue."
Jonas rose from his chair, went to the sideboard and poured another inch of bourbon into his glass.
"I'd need you to go up there for a day. Two, at the most."
"And do what? Knowing a Zin from a Beaujolais comes in handy when you're reading a wine list, but it doesn't have a damned thing to do with checking out a contract."
"It is, if you take along my peoples' financial reports. and if you put to use some of that stuff you know about oak barrel curing, viniculture..." Jonas chuckled. "There's that look on your face again, boy."
Travis laughed. He didn't mean to but hell, he couldn't help it.
"You're still a surprise to me, Father," he said.
"Life's full of surprises, boy. Well? Will you do it, or won't you?"
Travis thought about it. A couple of days up north, five hundred miles away from Malibu, and Los Angeles. It sounded pretty good. He liked the Napa Valley; he'd spent some weekends there. And, yeah, he did know a lot about viniculture. There was a time he'd considered sinking some money into a winery.
And then there was Alexandra Thorpe, and getting her out of his head.
"Yes," he said, before he could think about it too long and change his mind. He put down his glass and held out his hand. "I'll be glad to do it, Father. Just get together all those reports you mentioned and have them sent to me."
Jonas's hand closed on Travis's. "Already did," he said. and grinned. "Figured you wouldn't be able to pass up a chance like this, seein' as how you fancy yourself a hotshot lawyer and an expert on wine."
"Seein' as how you figure yourself an expert on how I'd react to your offer, you mean," Travis said, with a lazy smile.
"Somethin' like that." The old man drank the last of his bourbon, put down his glass and dug his hands into the pockets of his tux. "Anythin' else you need, you jes let me know."
Travis nodded and started from the room. At the last second, he swung toward Jonas.
"The vineyard."
"What about it?"
"Maybe I'm already familiar with it, Father. What's its name?"
Jonas frowned. "Hawk's Nest. Eagle's Nest. Somethin' like that." He strode to his desk, opened a drawer and rifled through some papers. "Here it is. Peregrine Vineyards. Used to be run by somebody didn't know a thing about wine, guy name of, lemme see here... Stuart. Carl Stuart."
Travis shrugged. "Never heard of him."
"Place actually belonged to his wife. Still does, now that she's divorced. She's gone back to usin' her maiden name. Got it right here, someplace."