Aware of Flynn’s close scrutiny, she tried to disguise the involuntary grimace that contorted her face as the wine bit into her tongue. She turned away quickly and spat the contents onto the floor. It was terrible. There was a noise behind her. She glanced back to see Flynn putting the stopper back in the wine barrel.

He looked up. To her surprise his eyes were sparkling and his face wide with a smile. “I take it you don’t like my red.”

Keely looked down at the glass. What could she say? He was so proud of his wine but it had tasted like a cross between sarsaparilla and kerosene. “I told you I’m not a competent wine judge,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Reds aren’t to everyone’s liking.” He laughed even louder. “Besides, there’s still time. It’s not quite ready to bottle yet.”

Keely ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Just as well, she thought. The only thing that stuff would be good for was cleaning paint brushes.

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Euan sat up. In spite of being back in his own bed, he’d had a restless night. Pain snaked down his neck and across his shoulders. He grimaced. Surely I’m not so old that I can’t recover from a hard day’s work, he thought.

Most of the day before he’d spent cleaning out the cellar-door area, ready for Flynn’s birthday barbecue. Keely and Flynn had returned in the late afternoon and had pitched in and helped but before that he’d been up on a ladder, chopping back plants and cleaning off rafters and walls. The bagged finish on the walls had been authentically coated with years of dust, which wasn’t very tasteful for entertaining.

He reached his hand behind, massaged a shoulder blade then slowly slid his feet to the floor. The clock showed nine am. He couldn’t believe he’d slept that late. He hoped a shower would spark him up. Pity he didn’t have time for a surf but there was still too much to do to get ready for the barbecue.

It was hard to imagine that Flynn was thirty-three. At first, each day after Lucy died had seemed an eternity, but the last few years had flown by. He wondered what Lucy would think of Flynn now. It had added to her distress to know she would miss seeing him turn into a man. Euan couldn’t pinpoint when that had happened. Flynn’s last years of school were a blur, then he’d gone interstate to study and then overseas to work.

Somehow, Euan had kept the vineyards going with Hugh’s help. Even in the deluge of despair that had engulfed him after Lucy died, Euan had found the winemaking had kept him sane; that and escaping to the surf whenever he could.