Page 119 of What Doesn't Kill Her

Kellen realized how exhausted she was when she teared up in response, and had to hug him. “I know you won’t.” She hadn’t been sleeping well; the worry about Rae’s safety and the assassin, the wedding and most of all, about the gray coma that hovered at the periphery of her mind.

Warren backed away, and Kellen asked Arthur, “Are we done now?”

Arthur made a whisking motion with his fingertips, and his cohorts disappeared the way they came. “Thank you, Miss Adams, I promise you you’ll have the wedding of your dreams, and everyone is so much happier knowing your desires in these matters.”

“Everyone is happier except my future mother-in-law,” Kellen said with some humor.

Rae said, “That’s not true!”

“What do you mean?” Kellen asked Rae and turned to Arthur. “What does she mean?”

Arthur gave Kellen one stricken glance and tried to flee.

Just like that, Kellen figured it out. She grabbed his sleeve and brought him to a halt. “This intervention was done on Verona’s behest.”

Arthur sat up very straight. “Absolutely not. Mrs. Di Luca was simply—”

Rae interrupted. “Grandma cried because you didn’t care about our wedding.”

“But Idon’t...” Kellen came to a halt, dismayed and confused. “Cried? Why?”

With great precision, Arthur put his notebook and pen into the inner pocket of his jacket. “Mrs. Di Luca doesn’t wish for you to look back on this grand event with regret because it was not to your liking.”

“I won’t! I honestly don’t care!” Why wouldn’t anyone believe her?

Large feet in size twelve white running shoes came to a halt just outside the shrubbery where Kellen had fruitlessly tried to hide. Max leaned over far enough to look at the small group beneath the leafed canopy. “Arthur! Rae! Go on, I’ll talk to Kellen.”

49

Arthur Waldberg didn’t scramble away; he had too much dignity for that. But he crawled briskly back the way he came.

Rae lingered until her father gestured. Then she crawled out muttering, “Just when it’s getting good.”

Max knelt down, one knee on the grass, and looked at Kellen. “You look hot.”

“I am.”

“I know where we can be alone.”

She smiled with a come-hither look. “I don’t think going there is going to make me less hot.”

He wiggled his finger in rebuke. “We’re going to the blending shed.”

She knew what the blending shed was—that place filled with different grape varietals in various stages of fermentation where the vintner mixed the flavors to create a wine that indulged the palate. But she’d never been there, and she didn’t know if she wanted to go. “Why there?”

“I’m creating another wine.”

She squinted at him.

“All right, so it probably will be lousy. But it’s quiet and cool in there, and we can talk.”

She crawled out. She slapped the leaves and bark off the front of her shirt and shorts.

He lovingly dusted the bark mulch off her bottom, taking care that not a speck remained.

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost.” He ran his hands down her legs, then straightened and grinned.

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