Page 62 of Rainshadow Road

“Who’s taking care of you? Justine?”

“Actually, I’m staying with… a friend.”

“Who?”

“His name is Sam Nolan.”

After a perplexed silence, her mother said, “You’ve never mentioned him before. How long have you known him?”

“Not a long time, but—”

“You’re staying in his apartment?”

“Not an apartment. He’s got a house.”

“Is he married?”

Lucy held the cell phone away from her face and looked at it in disbelief. Bringing it back to her mouth, she said, “Of course not. I don’t go out with other people’s boyfriends or husbands.” Unable to resist, she added, “That’s your other daughter.”

“Lucy,” her mother said on a note of gentle scolding. “Dad and I were planning to visit Alice next week—I’m going to change our flights so we can come out earlier.”

“You don’t have to. In fact, I’d really rather you not—”

“I want to meet this Sam person.”

Lucy struggled to suppress a laugh at the way her mother had phrased it. “He’s a perfectly nice guy. In fact, he’s your dream son-in-law.”

“You’ve gotten that serious with him?”

“No… God, no… I’m not even going out with him. I just meant he’s the type of guy you’ve always wanted me to go out with. He owns a vineyard. He grows organic grapes and makes wine, and he’s helping to raise his orphaned niece.” As she spoke, Lucy looked out the windows behind the settee. She located Sam’s strapping form amid a group of men working with spades. Deferring to the heat of the day, a couple of them had removed their shirts. Sam was fiddling with a gas-powered tiller, doing something with the start cord. He paused to draw a forearm across his sweaty brow.

“Is he divorced?” her mother asked.

“Never married.”

“He sounds too perfect. What’s wrong with him?”

“Commitment avoidant.”

“Oh, they’re all that way until you make them see the light.”

“This isn’t your run-of-the-mill fear of commitment. It’s a lifestyle choice.”

“Are his parents still in the picture?”

“They’ve both passed away.”

“Good, there’ll be no competition on holidays.”

“Mom!”

“I was joking,” her mother protested.

“I wonder,” Lucy said. Often with her mother, it seemed they were having two different conversations. Lucy suspected at least half of what she said had gone completely unnoticed. She continued to focus on Sam, who was pressing the primer button on the tiller to pump some gas into the motor. “You know, Mom, you’re asking a lot more questions about the guy I’m staying with than you are about my injuries.”

“Tell me what he looks like. Is he clean-shaven? Tall or short? How old is he?”

“He’s—” Lucy broke off, her mind going blank as Sam stripped off his T-shirt, blotted his face and the back of his neck with it, and tossed it to the ground. He had an amazing body, lean and long, muscle stacked on muscle.

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