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Synopsis
Pippa MacMillan is a legend on the Irish folk music scene. But when her voice requires a time-out, she's left wondering how—and where—to find happiness in the silence . . .
Seeking answers, Pippa leaves Ireland in favor of a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Turns out lovely Blue Hollow Falls is the perfect place to heal—and solitary Seth Brogan is the surprisingly perfect host. After all, Seth is beginning again too: turning his renovated stone barn and beautiful hillside into a vineyard is the start of a whole new life for the former Special Forces soldier. Only Mother Nature keeps thwarting both their plans, leaving Pippa snowbound with unsettling thoughts about how life can take unexpected turns . . .
To Pippa's surprise, she might actually fall for small-town living. She might even fall for Seth, whose quiet strength is a balm for her world-weary soul. But when the music starts once more, will she follow her fortune back to Ireland, or surrender to the call of her heart?
Release date: June 26, 2018
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 368
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Bluestone & Vine
Donna Kauffman
Seth Brogan scrolled through the playlist of Disney soundtracks on his ancient iPod, trying to find the one that wouldn’t make him want to poke his eyes out with a spork. Or his ears. “Here you go, big guy,” he grumbled. “Your favorite. You owe me.” The opening strains of “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast wafted through the cold, dry air inside the converted barn. Seth’s breath formed little crystallizing puffs of air when he added, “Now, I’ve got to go out and tend to me vines, lad,” he added, adopting the brogue of his Irish immigrant grandparents. “Hold down the fort, aye?”
Seth was rewarded with a snort from Dexter, but at least the auld beast didn’t spit at him. Llamas were champion spitters. Dex did, however, pin Seth with a steady gaze. Those deep, soulful brown eyes of his were almost as effective as Seth’s ma’s when it came to eliciting guilt. “You’ve got feed in your bucket. Music to dine by. And I’m not putting you in a stall. I know better than that.” Seth swore Dex ducked his chin to intentionally look as pathetic as possible. Fortunately, Seth was on to his tricks. “I’d take you out there with me, but it’s still snowing to beat the band and I’m not up for melting the ice clumps out of your fur. You’re worse than the golden retriever I had as a kid.”
Dexter lifted his head, and though clearly unmoved by the speech, the music seemed to mollify him enough that he didn’t follow Seth when he walked across the sawdust-strewn dirt floor to the makeshift office he’d set up inside the end stall. Knowing better than to look back or make any kind of eye contact that Dexter would immediately take as a change of heart, Seth grabbed his winter gear off the wall hooks with one hand, as he checked his laptop to make sure the Wi-Fi was still back on. He was hoping to see a reply from the new distributor he’d met with the week before. Wi-Fi was a go, but no incoming mail. “Yet,” he murmured, still feeling optimistic.
He zipped up his canvas overcoat, tucking his long, reddish-blond braid inside the back before flipping up the collar. Then slid on the mirrored ski-racer sunglasses before tugging on his hat, pulling the furry flaps down over his ears, and tying the straps tight under his chin, behind the neatly trimmed beard that jutted down several inches. His best friend, Sawyer, had given him the hat as a joke, claiming it fit Seth’s whole Viking conqueror vibe. It was true that Seth topped out at a good six inches past the six-foot mark, with the sturdy build to match. And though he had tried to point out to Sawyer that it was unlikely Vikings had worn Russian ushankas, as far as he was concerned, the hat was, hands—and ear flaps—down, the best gift he’d ever gotten.
It had been one hell of a winter and it turned out the furry, fleece-lined hat was the best insulation a guy could have. Last on were heavy work gloves, layered over thinner insulator gloves that would hopefully keep his fingertips from freezing off. He had pulled the Velcro wrist straps tight, grabbed the bucket of pruning tools, and taken one step toward the big sliding-panel doors at the end of the barn ... when his cell phone rang. Setting the bucket back down, he swore quite colorfully as he pulled the layers of gloves and the heavy winter hat off. He knew who that ringtone belonged to, and chances were, he wasn’t heading out into the godforsaken snowstorm for at least another twenty minutes.
“Don’t be mad at me,” his baby sister blurted, before he’d even had a chance to say hello.
“Happy Friday to you, too, Mouse. And don’t be silly. I love you.” He said that quite sincerely, even as he girded himself for what was to come, certain it wouldn’t be anything good. It never was with Mouse. Normally she went for over-the-top ego stroking, mixed with her own brand of adorable, youngest-of-six wheedling, because she knew he was a sucker for it—the latter part, at any rate—so this rather alarmist preamble didn’t bode well. Not at all. “Also,” he added, “Ma would skin me alive if I so much as ruffled even one of your pretty red ringlets, so you’ve got that going for you.”
“I’ve cut them all off, so you’re safe.”
His eyes widened in momentary surprise, even as he laughed. “Well, I’m not the one you have to worry about then. Does Dad know? You might be responsible for making a grown man cry.”
“It was for Locks of Love, so he can’t say a word. Well, he could, and he probably will, but it was for charity, and if there’s one thing he’s got a softer spot for than my pretty red ringlets, it’s sick children. Besides, I think I’ve humored him long enough. I’ve been wanting that blanket off my neck for ages. And before you say it, I looked like an old Irish nanny with it pinned up. I love the new do. I think it suits me.”
“Sounds like everybody wins,” Seth said, well aware of the benefits of remaining neutral whenever he could manage it.
“Now you’ve officially got the longest hair of the lot of us, Mr. Man Bun.” He could picture the cheeky grin on her pretty face. “As much as Dad loved those red curls of mine that always reminded him of Great-Grandmama, God rest her soul,” she said in a dead-on imitation of their old man, “he certainly hasn’t been a big fan of your lengthy locks.”
“I had my head shaved for ten years while I served in the Army. I’m reveling in my freedom from hair tyranny.”
“Well, if you’re wondering what to get Dad for Christmas—”
“The man bun and the even more fantastic stout beard stay as is. Anyone with a differing opinion is welcome to try and come at me with the cutting implement of their choice.”
“Don’t look at me. I get it. It’s like my life in reverse,” Moira Brogan said, then laughed. “You probably don’t want to know this, but every time I post a photo of you on one of my social media accounts, women of all ages get downright swoony. Man buns and beards are total click bait, as it turns out.”
“Click-what?”
“Personally, I don’t see it, but then they didn’t have to grow up with you slathering your face in pimple cream.”
“You must be confusing me with Aiden. The only thing I slathered my adolescent face with was shaving cream, being as I was so manly I had to shave by the time I was fourteen.”
“You have a very active imagination.”
He chuckled. “So, what was it you thought I was going to get mad about? Why the call?”
“Oh,” she said, all the cheer evaporating from her tone. “Right.”
He lifted his brows, and waited.
“So, remember back when I was pre-law, I got accepted into that program one of my professors was heading up, to do a semester abroad at Oxford?”
“You mean before the douchebag—and I only use that term to preserve your tender ears from what I’d really like to call him—was arrested on felony fraud charges? Yes, I remember that. Almost cost you your scholarship because he was one of your biggest supporters.”
“Yes, well, if you recall, it also cost me my semester abroad as that whole program fell apart when the new department head opted not to follow through on it.”
“I do recall. But you’re long done with that, and law school. You passed the bar on your first try—for which the entire family, myself included, has showered you with much-deserved praise—and now you’re ready to conquer the world.”
“Your support, the family’s support, has meant everything to me,” she said sincerely. “You know that.” She paused, as if gathering her nerve, then said, “The thing is, I really thought I wanted to practice law here at home, in Seattle. That’s why I came back here for law school. But the truth is, I miss California, Seth. I want to go back. Only I can’t afford it. Yet. And California doesn’t have reciprocity with Washington, so I have to take the bar there in order to practice. It’s one of the hardest in the country, so I’m really going to need to dig in. I told Ma and Dad and they thought it made sense not to incur any further debt while I was prepping. So, I’ve moved back home for a bit.”
Seth was nodding. “Good idea. And good that Ma and Dad support your choice. I know they were happy you wanted to live and work closer to home, but they have always encouraged us to follow our hearts. So . . . what’s the problem?”
There was another pause, then a sigh. “I’m twenty-five years old, Seth. With two degrees, one of them from Stanford, and a license to practice law in the state of Washington. Only now I’m back in Seattle, living at home, and it’s like I’m sixteen all over again. Dad actually said something about my missing curfew last night at dinner. Curfew!”
Seth grinned, knowing Mouse would give him a knuckle pop to the shoulder if she could see his expression right then. “I love Ma and Dad more than life, but did you ever wonder why I moved across country to Virginia when I got out of the service?”
“I know, I know,” she said, sighing. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m truly, truly not. They’re being so great about all of this. But I’m the only one of us at home. The focus is pretty intense.”
“Dad always worried about you most, Mouse. He knew you were the last one, and I think he wanted to slow things down, make your childhood last a little longer, and that came out as him being super strict. Ma, she just misses having her house full of running feet and squabbling kids. The silence is probably deafening.”
“Except when Aiden or Kathleen bring the grandkids,” she said, referring to their older brother and sister. “Then it’s mass chaos. And about as suitable for studying as my old dorm apartment. Worse, really. I love my niece and all of my nephews to pieces, but it’s like a Mickey Mouse frat house when they’re here.”
Seth chuckled again, knowing it was true. “So, what, you want a plane ticket to London? Isn’t it a little late for an exchange program?”
“You remember my favorite Christmas movie, right?”
Having spent the first eighteen years of his life in a house filled mostly with women had taught him a few things, so without hesitation, he said, “Sure.” Then prayed like hell she didn’t ask him to name it.
“I watched it again over the holidays, and . . . I got an idea.” She let that hang, as if he should easily put two and two together at this point. The pause on his end must have gone on a beat too long, because she said, “The Holiday? Jude Law, Cameron Diaz?” When he still said nothing, she added, “Kate Winslet?”
“Oh,” he replied, when it finally clicked. “The house-swapping one?” What could he say? He liked Ms. Winslet. And Christmas movies. Then he did put two and two together and his brows furrowed. “What have you gone and done, Moira Aileen?”
“Well,” she said, the wheedling tone finally surfacing. “I am trying to save money like Ma and Dad want me to. I’ve managed to scrape together the airfare and basic living expenses by working part-time at the pub, so I’m not dipping into my savings.”
That also had him lifting his brows. Their folks owned and ran a traditional Irish pub where all six of the Brogan kids had put in countless hours of indentured servitude. Or at least that’s how it had always felt to all of them. Except for the oldest, Aiden, who now helped them run the place. Moira, on the other hand, had gone out of her way to make sure she put in as few hours as possible. “Did you now?” he said, a smile in his voice, along with a hint of the old country.
“I did,” she repeated, not taking the bait. “I’m being smart about this, Seth. Uncle Sam will come calling on me to start paying my avalanche of law school debt shortly. Once I pass the bar and move to California, paying the bills and paying my student loans will be my sole focus for years to come. There won’t be time or money for any travel.” She paused for a breath, then the sweet, affectionate cajoling tone returned. “This is my last chance for a little adventure, big brother.”
“So, what, you want me to tell Ma and Dad that you’ve invited a stranger to come and live with them for a bit while you pop over to Europe?”
“Actually, Ma and Dad weren’t all that upset when I explained the idea to them.”
That had his brow lifting again. “I can’t imagine Dad being okay with your going off to stay in some stranger’s home—”
“That’s just it, she’s not a stranger. Well, to me personally, she is, but you do remember Katie MacMillan, right? My first college roomie? You’ve met her. You know we’re still close, even though we’re a continent apart now.”
“I remember. Straight over from Ireland, going to university in the States,” he said. “You brought her home for Christmas that first year. I was back home on TDY.” He chuckled. “Nana Aileen talked to her for hours.”
“Right, they were both from Donegal,” Moira said, talking faster now. “Well, it’s her sister I’m trading with. Katie’s meeting me there, to get me all settled in. Ma and Dad loved Katie and they’re excited because it means I get to go see our homeland. I’ll be the first of us kids to go, Seth. You’ve seen more of the world than any of us, and I know it wasn’t in a good way, but surely you can understand my desire to see more of the world than our own backyard.”
The excitement in her tone was palpable, and he did indeed understand the itch. “So, are you just calling to get my blessing, then? Because it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Not exactly.”
“Moira Aileen?” he said, caution in his tone.
She rushed right back in. “So, Katie’s sister ... she’s looking for a getaway herself. She’s been to the States before, but this time she really wants to just tuck up and get out of the fray. She was hoping for something longer, like three months. But she agreed to the six weeks, eight at the outside, so that’s probably all it’s going to be.”
“Okay,” he said, still suspicious.
“Seattle is a great place—you know I love my hometown—but it’s not really ... you know, tucked away.” He heard her take in a slow breath. “The Blue Ridge Mountains, on the other hand . . .” She let that trail off.
His mouth dropped open, then snapped right back shut. “You didn’t.”
“Seth, you’ve got that big, beautiful place out there and God knows, it couldn’t be more remote. It’s perfect! What better place for Pippa to hide out than at a gorgeous mountain winery in the middle of nowhere?”
“Pippa?”
“Katie’s sister. And she won’t be in the way, honest. She’s very self-sufficient. And the very last thing she’s going to want to do is draw attention to herself.”
Then the other part of what Moira had said sunk in. “Hide out? What is she hiding from?” he asked. “An angry ex? Her family? Legal recourse? What’s really going on here, Moira? What did you get yourself involved in?”
“Wow. What happened to you agreeing that I was smart and responsible? You won’t be harboring a fugitive from justice. Jeez.”
“I’m not harboring a fugitive from anything at the moment. What is she running from, Mouse?” He waited, but when his sister didn’t say anything, he said, “You do recall that my stint for Uncle Sam was with Army Special Forces. I’m good at interrogation.”
“Okay, okay!” She let out a long breath. “So, it’s like this. Pippa is Pippa MacMillan.” She paused, but when he didn’t say anything, she added, “The Irish singer.” Still nothing from him. “Well, she’s a much bigger star in the UK, like Bono big, but she’s had pretty good crossover success here in the States. She’s a folk singer, so not exactly a household name here, but over there she’s crazy famous.”
“If she’s some big-time star, why does she need to swap anything? Sounds like she could rent a place anywhere she wanted to go, for as long as she wants.”
“She could, yes, but over in the UK she’s been pretty hounded by the press. If she signed any kind of lease somewhere, trust me, they’d find out and stake out the place, and it would all be for naught. When I contacted Katie to tell her my idea on a house swap, I asked her if she knew anyone who’d be willing. She and her sister are very close. Katie knew Pippa was going through some stuff and she thought this might be the perfect way for her to duck out for a bit without it being all official. If she just swaps, she can hop a private plane, come here, and no one is the wiser. I mean, I’m sure she’ll tell someone she trusts so no one worries that she’s suddenly vanished,” Moira hurried to add. “She just needs to get away from everything and everyone for a bit. Katie told me she’s had some health issues and—”
“For the love of God, Mouse, please tell me you’re not sticking me with some stressed out, spoiled celebrity who’s doing her own brand of self-rehab.”
“It’s not like that,” Moira broke in. Then her tone softened, and grew a lot more serious. “She’s—she had some problems, but not the drug or drinking kind. She had some kind of surgery on her vocal cords a while ago. I don’t know all the details myself, but there’s a lot of speculation about whether she’ll ever sing again. Hence all the press hounding. Katie swore me to secrecy about her coming to Virginia, so you can’t say anything, either.”
“That’s the least of your concerns at the moment,” he said darkly.
“Seth,” she said, quietly now. “Please? She needs to rest, and for that to happen, it needs to be somewhere she can be incognito. I need to study, and I want my time abroad before my post-grad, real life as a lawyer kicks in. It’s the perfect swap.”
“Except for that part where you involved me without even asking.”
“I’m asking now,” she said, sounding suitably abashed.
“And no one in her inner circle is going to question your suddenly coming to hang out at her place?”
“She has a few places. The one I’ll be staying in is in the village where she grew up, which is across the country from where she lives now. Katie said she bought it to have something in her hometown. She only goes there to spend the occasional holiday with her family. No one is there most of the time. Katie is going to meet me there, introduce me around as her friend from college, which is the truth, and say that Pippa was kind enough to loan me her place for a bit to study. It’s all good.”
“If she’s as big a deal in the UK as you say, what’s to say someone here won’t recognize here? I live in the land of folk music. And social media is global. One tweet and it would be all over in an instant.”
“Blue Hollow Falls, Virginia, is even smaller than the Irish village I’m going to. Every single person who lives in your little burg knows you, loves you, respects you. If you tell them to help you help her, they will. You know they will. Yes, she could stay anywhere, but nothing would be as perfect, as completely off the grid, as safe for her, as this. I knew she’d be in the best hands possible with you. Please, Seth?” No wheedling or cajoling this time, just Moira straight out, sincerely and honestly asking him.
Seth shook his head, then rubbed his palm over his nose and down the short length of his beard, squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark sunglasses he still wore. He’d never been good at saying no to her. “When is this big swap taking place?” He had to hold the phone a foot from his ear to keep her squeal of delight from deafening him.
“That’s the other part,” Moira said, sounding breathless with excitement again. “It all kind of came together really fast—and I did try to call you, but I couldn’t get through, the ringtone sounded all weird and your cell kept going straight to voicemail.”
“My power got knocked out for a few days. So, you’re saying sooner rather than later?”
“Wellll . . . you might say that, yes.”
He felt a nerve twitch in his temple. “As in, when? Exactly?”
“Well, it was supposed to be next weekend, so I’d have enough time to clear it with you and you’d have enough time to make sure your place doesn’t look like a frat house.”
“My house is tidy, thank you very much.”
“I just remember your room growing up, and—”
“Yeah, well, you can thank the U.S. Army for changing my lifestyle habits. And you said this was for six weeks?”
“Maybe eight,” she squeaked.
“Moira, that’s not a little favor. I’ve got a million things to do before the sun finally comes out and the vineyard is back in full swing.”
Mouse was right in that he did have plenty of room, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the idea of having a houseguest for the next two months. Heck, even two weeks. He didn’t mind helping his sister out, but it occurred to him there were other ways to solve the housing problem. It didn’t sound like money was an issue, so he’d find his unexpected guest some tidy little rental up in the hills, cash under the table if need be, where she could do whatever she wanted and be as private as necessary, and he’d be on call if she needed help with anything. Win-win. His baby sister didn’t need to know about any of that.
“She won’t be in your way,” Moira hurried to add. “And who knows, maybe she could be of some help. I’ve never met her, but Katie says she’s a good sport and not at all spoiled by her success. Totally down-to-earth. Oh, and Katie said she loves animals, and their grandparents had a farm growing up, so hey, maybe she can keep your exotic house pet entertained and out of your hair.”
“Dexter is not a house pet. He’s mostly a pain in my ass.”
“And yet, you didn’t sell him off when you bought that place.”
“It was one of the provisions of the purchase.”
“Didn’t the old woman you bought the place from pass away a few months after you closed? You can’t be legally bound at this point. I could check if you want.”
“I made a promise, Mouse.”
“Yes, you did, and I know you always keep them,” she said, love and affection clear in her tone. “One of the many reasons you’re my hero.”
“Wait,” he said, her earlier statement coming back to him. “You said this Pippa person was ‘supposed to be’ coming next weekend? When is she actually coming?”
“Like I said, I’ve been trying to call you for the past two days.”
“We’re on the tail end of a monster snowstorm. Ten inches and counting and that’s on top of all the white stuff we still have piled up from the last snowpocalypse.”
“But it’s the end of March,” she said, stunned.
“I live above two thousand feet. Snow happens. I’ve had it all the way into April, and I haven’t lived here that long.”
“It’s still snowing now?”
“Supposed to taper off this afternoon.”
He heard her swear, which didn’t happen often.
“Moira Aileen?”
“Stop calling me that. You sound like Ma.”
“I’m going to sound like Dad here in a minute. When is she coming?” he asked again, enunciating each word.
Just then he heard the high-pitched grinding sound of a small engine echoing through the air outside the barn.
“Well, it turns out it worked for her, schedule-wise, to charter a flight out yesterday, so she took the opportunity and got on over here. She was going to find someplace to hole up for the week until our swap started, but that might have tipped off reporters. So, I kind of told Katie she could probably tell Pippa to just go straight to Blue Hollow Falls. Since I’m not directly swapping my place with hers, it doesn’t really matter if we go at the exact same time.” Moira said this all in a rush without taking a breath. “But if it’s storming up there, then she’s probably stuck somewhere.”
Seth walked over to the barn’s sliding-panel doors and nudged one open. He was thankful he still wore the sunglasses so he wasn’t blinded by the sudden, blinding glare of white, or the stinging flakes driven by the wind into his face and beard. Through the blur, he managed to make out a sleek, red and white snowmobile as it popped up over the ridge just south of the barn ... and plowed right into the middle of a huge, windblown snowdrift. “Yeah, she’s stuck somewhere all right,” Seth said, listening as the sound of the motor instantly died out. “I gotta go, Mouse.”
“Seth, wait, I—”
“I’ll call you back. I think I need to go dig my new houseguest out of a snowbank. Also? You’ve just used up every last one of your favors until you’re thirty.” He thought he saw arms and legs clad in bright aqua blue poking out of the snowbank as someone appeared to be fighting their way out of the pile of white stuff. “Make that forty.” He ended the call, yanked his hat back on, and was already running into the storm.
Seth was halfway to the snowbank before he realized he’d left his gloves and the liners back in the barn. He was used to working in the cold, so that part he didn’t mind. Digging a snowmobile out of a drift the size of a small mountain with his bare hands? Not so much. “Hold on,” he yelled. “Help’s coming.” He doubted she’d hear him over the howl of the wind, but he had to try. The last thing he wanted her to do was thrash around and end up sinking herself and the machine in any deeper. He just hoped to God she wasn’t injured. Or worse.
He’d recognized the snowmobile as belonging to Mabry Jenkins, who, until about five minutes ago, Seth had thought of as a fairly intelligent man. Mabry owned a big apple orchard just down the mountain from Seth’s vineyard. Snowmobiles were an easy way to check on the orchards and the vines, or any other part of their extensive properties during the winter. Seth owned one, too. To hear Mabry tell it, most winters didn’t dump enough snow to make it worth taking the covers off the things. This wasn’t one of those winters.
Seth was already formulating the earful he’d be giving the older man later, as he moved off the path he’d plowed that morning between the barn and the house and waded into snow that was hip deep in places where the wind had caused it to drift. He was wading through it as fast as he could and had gotten close, when what sounded like a faint shriek made his heart momentarily stand still. He swore under his breath and redoubled his efforts, forcing lengthier strides through the snowpack. He was, first and foremost, concerned with the welfare of his new houseguest. But he’d be lying if a small part of him wasn’t also visualizing a headline screaming something along the lines of, NEW WINERY OWNER PERMANENTLY INJURES FAMOUS IRISH FOLK SINGER IN FREAK SNOWMOBILE ACCIDENT! His business would be doomed before he even got it off the ground.
His baby sister was right when she’d said Seth had seen a lot of the world, most of it bad. Given that, his mind could conjure up in rather alarming detail any number of potential scenarios that awaited him on the far side of that mound of snow, all of them grim.
So he was completely unprepared for the sight that awaited him when he finally made it around to the other side of the wind-whipped bank.
Standing in the small clearing made by the snowmobile’s entrance into the towering drift stood a mere wisp of a thing, hands planted on narrow hips, and the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever seen stretched across her pale, gamine face. “Well, that was bloody brilliant, wasn’t it then,” she said on a hoarse gasp, looking almost delighted by her predicament.
“You’re lucky you. . .
Seth was rewarded with a snort from Dexter, but at least the auld beast didn’t spit at him. Llamas were champion spitters. Dex did, however, pin Seth with a steady gaze. Those deep, soulful brown eyes of his were almost as effective as Seth’s ma’s when it came to eliciting guilt. “You’ve got feed in your bucket. Music to dine by. And I’m not putting you in a stall. I know better than that.” Seth swore Dex ducked his chin to intentionally look as pathetic as possible. Fortunately, Seth was on to his tricks. “I’d take you out there with me, but it’s still snowing to beat the band and I’m not up for melting the ice clumps out of your fur. You’re worse than the golden retriever I had as a kid.”
Dexter lifted his head, and though clearly unmoved by the speech, the music seemed to mollify him enough that he didn’t follow Seth when he walked across the sawdust-strewn dirt floor to the makeshift office he’d set up inside the end stall. Knowing better than to look back or make any kind of eye contact that Dexter would immediately take as a change of heart, Seth grabbed his winter gear off the wall hooks with one hand, as he checked his laptop to make sure the Wi-Fi was still back on. He was hoping to see a reply from the new distributor he’d met with the week before. Wi-Fi was a go, but no incoming mail. “Yet,” he murmured, still feeling optimistic.
He zipped up his canvas overcoat, tucking his long, reddish-blond braid inside the back before flipping up the collar. Then slid on the mirrored ski-racer sunglasses before tugging on his hat, pulling the furry flaps down over his ears, and tying the straps tight under his chin, behind the neatly trimmed beard that jutted down several inches. His best friend, Sawyer, had given him the hat as a joke, claiming it fit Seth’s whole Viking conqueror vibe. It was true that Seth topped out at a good six inches past the six-foot mark, with the sturdy build to match. And though he had tried to point out to Sawyer that it was unlikely Vikings had worn Russian ushankas, as far as he was concerned, the hat was, hands—and ear flaps—down, the best gift he’d ever gotten.
It had been one hell of a winter and it turned out the furry, fleece-lined hat was the best insulation a guy could have. Last on were heavy work gloves, layered over thinner insulator gloves that would hopefully keep his fingertips from freezing off. He had pulled the Velcro wrist straps tight, grabbed the bucket of pruning tools, and taken one step toward the big sliding-panel doors at the end of the barn ... when his cell phone rang. Setting the bucket back down, he swore quite colorfully as he pulled the layers of gloves and the heavy winter hat off. He knew who that ringtone belonged to, and chances were, he wasn’t heading out into the godforsaken snowstorm for at least another twenty minutes.
“Don’t be mad at me,” his baby sister blurted, before he’d even had a chance to say hello.
“Happy Friday to you, too, Mouse. And don’t be silly. I love you.” He said that quite sincerely, even as he girded himself for what was to come, certain it wouldn’t be anything good. It never was with Mouse. Normally she went for over-the-top ego stroking, mixed with her own brand of adorable, youngest-of-six wheedling, because she knew he was a sucker for it—the latter part, at any rate—so this rather alarmist preamble didn’t bode well. Not at all. “Also,” he added, “Ma would skin me alive if I so much as ruffled even one of your pretty red ringlets, so you’ve got that going for you.”
“I’ve cut them all off, so you’re safe.”
His eyes widened in momentary surprise, even as he laughed. “Well, I’m not the one you have to worry about then. Does Dad know? You might be responsible for making a grown man cry.”
“It was for Locks of Love, so he can’t say a word. Well, he could, and he probably will, but it was for charity, and if there’s one thing he’s got a softer spot for than my pretty red ringlets, it’s sick children. Besides, I think I’ve humored him long enough. I’ve been wanting that blanket off my neck for ages. And before you say it, I looked like an old Irish nanny with it pinned up. I love the new do. I think it suits me.”
“Sounds like everybody wins,” Seth said, well aware of the benefits of remaining neutral whenever he could manage it.
“Now you’ve officially got the longest hair of the lot of us, Mr. Man Bun.” He could picture the cheeky grin on her pretty face. “As much as Dad loved those red curls of mine that always reminded him of Great-Grandmama, God rest her soul,” she said in a dead-on imitation of their old man, “he certainly hasn’t been a big fan of your lengthy locks.”
“I had my head shaved for ten years while I served in the Army. I’m reveling in my freedom from hair tyranny.”
“Well, if you’re wondering what to get Dad for Christmas—”
“The man bun and the even more fantastic stout beard stay as is. Anyone with a differing opinion is welcome to try and come at me with the cutting implement of their choice.”
“Don’t look at me. I get it. It’s like my life in reverse,” Moira Brogan said, then laughed. “You probably don’t want to know this, but every time I post a photo of you on one of my social media accounts, women of all ages get downright swoony. Man buns and beards are total click bait, as it turns out.”
“Click-what?”
“Personally, I don’t see it, but then they didn’t have to grow up with you slathering your face in pimple cream.”
“You must be confusing me with Aiden. The only thing I slathered my adolescent face with was shaving cream, being as I was so manly I had to shave by the time I was fourteen.”
“You have a very active imagination.”
He chuckled. “So, what was it you thought I was going to get mad about? Why the call?”
“Oh,” she said, all the cheer evaporating from her tone. “Right.”
He lifted his brows, and waited.
“So, remember back when I was pre-law, I got accepted into that program one of my professors was heading up, to do a semester abroad at Oxford?”
“You mean before the douchebag—and I only use that term to preserve your tender ears from what I’d really like to call him—was arrested on felony fraud charges? Yes, I remember that. Almost cost you your scholarship because he was one of your biggest supporters.”
“Yes, well, if you recall, it also cost me my semester abroad as that whole program fell apart when the new department head opted not to follow through on it.”
“I do recall. But you’re long done with that, and law school. You passed the bar on your first try—for which the entire family, myself included, has showered you with much-deserved praise—and now you’re ready to conquer the world.”
“Your support, the family’s support, has meant everything to me,” she said sincerely. “You know that.” She paused, as if gathering her nerve, then said, “The thing is, I really thought I wanted to practice law here at home, in Seattle. That’s why I came back here for law school. But the truth is, I miss California, Seth. I want to go back. Only I can’t afford it. Yet. And California doesn’t have reciprocity with Washington, so I have to take the bar there in order to practice. It’s one of the hardest in the country, so I’m really going to need to dig in. I told Ma and Dad and they thought it made sense not to incur any further debt while I was prepping. So, I’ve moved back home for a bit.”
Seth was nodding. “Good idea. And good that Ma and Dad support your choice. I know they were happy you wanted to live and work closer to home, but they have always encouraged us to follow our hearts. So . . . what’s the problem?”
There was another pause, then a sigh. “I’m twenty-five years old, Seth. With two degrees, one of them from Stanford, and a license to practice law in the state of Washington. Only now I’m back in Seattle, living at home, and it’s like I’m sixteen all over again. Dad actually said something about my missing curfew last night at dinner. Curfew!”
Seth grinned, knowing Mouse would give him a knuckle pop to the shoulder if she could see his expression right then. “I love Ma and Dad more than life, but did you ever wonder why I moved across country to Virginia when I got out of the service?”
“I know, I know,” she said, sighing. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m truly, truly not. They’re being so great about all of this. But I’m the only one of us at home. The focus is pretty intense.”
“Dad always worried about you most, Mouse. He knew you were the last one, and I think he wanted to slow things down, make your childhood last a little longer, and that came out as him being super strict. Ma, she just misses having her house full of running feet and squabbling kids. The silence is probably deafening.”
“Except when Aiden or Kathleen bring the grandkids,” she said, referring to their older brother and sister. “Then it’s mass chaos. And about as suitable for studying as my old dorm apartment. Worse, really. I love my niece and all of my nephews to pieces, but it’s like a Mickey Mouse frat house when they’re here.”
Seth chuckled again, knowing it was true. “So, what, you want a plane ticket to London? Isn’t it a little late for an exchange program?”
“You remember my favorite Christmas movie, right?”
Having spent the first eighteen years of his life in a house filled mostly with women had taught him a few things, so without hesitation, he said, “Sure.” Then prayed like hell she didn’t ask him to name it.
“I watched it again over the holidays, and . . . I got an idea.” She let that hang, as if he should easily put two and two together at this point. The pause on his end must have gone on a beat too long, because she said, “The Holiday? Jude Law, Cameron Diaz?” When he still said nothing, she added, “Kate Winslet?”
“Oh,” he replied, when it finally clicked. “The house-swapping one?” What could he say? He liked Ms. Winslet. And Christmas movies. Then he did put two and two together and his brows furrowed. “What have you gone and done, Moira Aileen?”
“Well,” she said, the wheedling tone finally surfacing. “I am trying to save money like Ma and Dad want me to. I’ve managed to scrape together the airfare and basic living expenses by working part-time at the pub, so I’m not dipping into my savings.”
That also had him lifting his brows. Their folks owned and ran a traditional Irish pub where all six of the Brogan kids had put in countless hours of indentured servitude. Or at least that’s how it had always felt to all of them. Except for the oldest, Aiden, who now helped them run the place. Moira, on the other hand, had gone out of her way to make sure she put in as few hours as possible. “Did you now?” he said, a smile in his voice, along with a hint of the old country.
“I did,” she repeated, not taking the bait. “I’m being smart about this, Seth. Uncle Sam will come calling on me to start paying my avalanche of law school debt shortly. Once I pass the bar and move to California, paying the bills and paying my student loans will be my sole focus for years to come. There won’t be time or money for any travel.” She paused for a breath, then the sweet, affectionate cajoling tone returned. “This is my last chance for a little adventure, big brother.”
“So, what, you want me to tell Ma and Dad that you’ve invited a stranger to come and live with them for a bit while you pop over to Europe?”
“Actually, Ma and Dad weren’t all that upset when I explained the idea to them.”
That had his brow lifting again. “I can’t imagine Dad being okay with your going off to stay in some stranger’s home—”
“That’s just it, she’s not a stranger. Well, to me personally, she is, but you do remember Katie MacMillan, right? My first college roomie? You’ve met her. You know we’re still close, even though we’re a continent apart now.”
“I remember. Straight over from Ireland, going to university in the States,” he said. “You brought her home for Christmas that first year. I was back home on TDY.” He chuckled. “Nana Aileen talked to her for hours.”
“Right, they were both from Donegal,” Moira said, talking faster now. “Well, it’s her sister I’m trading with. Katie’s meeting me there, to get me all settled in. Ma and Dad loved Katie and they’re excited because it means I get to go see our homeland. I’ll be the first of us kids to go, Seth. You’ve seen more of the world than any of us, and I know it wasn’t in a good way, but surely you can understand my desire to see more of the world than our own backyard.”
The excitement in her tone was palpable, and he did indeed understand the itch. “So, are you just calling to get my blessing, then? Because it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Not exactly.”
“Moira Aileen?” he said, caution in his tone.
She rushed right back in. “So, Katie’s sister ... she’s looking for a getaway herself. She’s been to the States before, but this time she really wants to just tuck up and get out of the fray. She was hoping for something longer, like three months. But she agreed to the six weeks, eight at the outside, so that’s probably all it’s going to be.”
“Okay,” he said, still suspicious.
“Seattle is a great place—you know I love my hometown—but it’s not really ... you know, tucked away.” He heard her take in a slow breath. “The Blue Ridge Mountains, on the other hand . . .” She let that trail off.
His mouth dropped open, then snapped right back shut. “You didn’t.”
“Seth, you’ve got that big, beautiful place out there and God knows, it couldn’t be more remote. It’s perfect! What better place for Pippa to hide out than at a gorgeous mountain winery in the middle of nowhere?”
“Pippa?”
“Katie’s sister. And she won’t be in the way, honest. She’s very self-sufficient. And the very last thing she’s going to want to do is draw attention to herself.”
Then the other part of what Moira had said sunk in. “Hide out? What is she hiding from?” he asked. “An angry ex? Her family? Legal recourse? What’s really going on here, Moira? What did you get yourself involved in?”
“Wow. What happened to you agreeing that I was smart and responsible? You won’t be harboring a fugitive from justice. Jeez.”
“I’m not harboring a fugitive from anything at the moment. What is she running from, Mouse?” He waited, but when his sister didn’t say anything, he said, “You do recall that my stint for Uncle Sam was with Army Special Forces. I’m good at interrogation.”
“Okay, okay!” She let out a long breath. “So, it’s like this. Pippa is Pippa MacMillan.” She paused, but when he didn’t say anything, she added, “The Irish singer.” Still nothing from him. “Well, she’s a much bigger star in the UK, like Bono big, but she’s had pretty good crossover success here in the States. She’s a folk singer, so not exactly a household name here, but over there she’s crazy famous.”
“If she’s some big-time star, why does she need to swap anything? Sounds like she could rent a place anywhere she wanted to go, for as long as she wants.”
“She could, yes, but over in the UK she’s been pretty hounded by the press. If she signed any kind of lease somewhere, trust me, they’d find out and stake out the place, and it would all be for naught. When I contacted Katie to tell her my idea on a house swap, I asked her if she knew anyone who’d be willing. She and her sister are very close. Katie knew Pippa was going through some stuff and she thought this might be the perfect way for her to duck out for a bit without it being all official. If she just swaps, she can hop a private plane, come here, and no one is the wiser. I mean, I’m sure she’ll tell someone she trusts so no one worries that she’s suddenly vanished,” Moira hurried to add. “She just needs to get away from everything and everyone for a bit. Katie told me she’s had some health issues and—”
“For the love of God, Mouse, please tell me you’re not sticking me with some stressed out, spoiled celebrity who’s doing her own brand of self-rehab.”
“It’s not like that,” Moira broke in. Then her tone softened, and grew a lot more serious. “She’s—she had some problems, but not the drug or drinking kind. She had some kind of surgery on her vocal cords a while ago. I don’t know all the details myself, but there’s a lot of speculation about whether she’ll ever sing again. Hence all the press hounding. Katie swore me to secrecy about her coming to Virginia, so you can’t say anything, either.”
“That’s the least of your concerns at the moment,” he said darkly.
“Seth,” she said, quietly now. “Please? She needs to rest, and for that to happen, it needs to be somewhere she can be incognito. I need to study, and I want my time abroad before my post-grad, real life as a lawyer kicks in. It’s the perfect swap.”
“Except for that part where you involved me without even asking.”
“I’m asking now,” she said, sounding suitably abashed.
“And no one in her inner circle is going to question your suddenly coming to hang out at her place?”
“She has a few places. The one I’ll be staying in is in the village where she grew up, which is across the country from where she lives now. Katie said she bought it to have something in her hometown. She only goes there to spend the occasional holiday with her family. No one is there most of the time. Katie is going to meet me there, introduce me around as her friend from college, which is the truth, and say that Pippa was kind enough to loan me her place for a bit to study. It’s all good.”
“If she’s as big a deal in the UK as you say, what’s to say someone here won’t recognize here? I live in the land of folk music. And social media is global. One tweet and it would be all over in an instant.”
“Blue Hollow Falls, Virginia, is even smaller than the Irish village I’m going to. Every single person who lives in your little burg knows you, loves you, respects you. If you tell them to help you help her, they will. You know they will. Yes, she could stay anywhere, but nothing would be as perfect, as completely off the grid, as safe for her, as this. I knew she’d be in the best hands possible with you. Please, Seth?” No wheedling or cajoling this time, just Moira straight out, sincerely and honestly asking him.
Seth shook his head, then rubbed his palm over his nose and down the short length of his beard, squeezing his eyes shut behind the dark sunglasses he still wore. He’d never been good at saying no to her. “When is this big swap taking place?” He had to hold the phone a foot from his ear to keep her squeal of delight from deafening him.
“That’s the other part,” Moira said, sounding breathless with excitement again. “It all kind of came together really fast—and I did try to call you, but I couldn’t get through, the ringtone sounded all weird and your cell kept going straight to voicemail.”
“My power got knocked out for a few days. So, you’re saying sooner rather than later?”
“Wellll . . . you might say that, yes.”
He felt a nerve twitch in his temple. “As in, when? Exactly?”
“Well, it was supposed to be next weekend, so I’d have enough time to clear it with you and you’d have enough time to make sure your place doesn’t look like a frat house.”
“My house is tidy, thank you very much.”
“I just remember your room growing up, and—”
“Yeah, well, you can thank the U.S. Army for changing my lifestyle habits. And you said this was for six weeks?”
“Maybe eight,” she squeaked.
“Moira, that’s not a little favor. I’ve got a million things to do before the sun finally comes out and the vineyard is back in full swing.”
Mouse was right in that he did have plenty of room, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the idea of having a houseguest for the next two months. Heck, even two weeks. He didn’t mind helping his sister out, but it occurred to him there were other ways to solve the housing problem. It didn’t sound like money was an issue, so he’d find his unexpected guest some tidy little rental up in the hills, cash under the table if need be, where she could do whatever she wanted and be as private as necessary, and he’d be on call if she needed help with anything. Win-win. His baby sister didn’t need to know about any of that.
“She won’t be in your way,” Moira hurried to add. “And who knows, maybe she could be of some help. I’ve never met her, but Katie says she’s a good sport and not at all spoiled by her success. Totally down-to-earth. Oh, and Katie said she loves animals, and their grandparents had a farm growing up, so hey, maybe she can keep your exotic house pet entertained and out of your hair.”
“Dexter is not a house pet. He’s mostly a pain in my ass.”
“And yet, you didn’t sell him off when you bought that place.”
“It was one of the provisions of the purchase.”
“Didn’t the old woman you bought the place from pass away a few months after you closed? You can’t be legally bound at this point. I could check if you want.”
“I made a promise, Mouse.”
“Yes, you did, and I know you always keep them,” she said, love and affection clear in her tone. “One of the many reasons you’re my hero.”
“Wait,” he said, her earlier statement coming back to him. “You said this Pippa person was ‘supposed to be’ coming next weekend? When is she actually coming?”
“Like I said, I’ve been trying to call you for the past two days.”
“We’re on the tail end of a monster snowstorm. Ten inches and counting and that’s on top of all the white stuff we still have piled up from the last snowpocalypse.”
“But it’s the end of March,” she said, stunned.
“I live above two thousand feet. Snow happens. I’ve had it all the way into April, and I haven’t lived here that long.”
“It’s still snowing now?”
“Supposed to taper off this afternoon.”
He heard her swear, which didn’t happen often.
“Moira Aileen?”
“Stop calling me that. You sound like Ma.”
“I’m going to sound like Dad here in a minute. When is she coming?” he asked again, enunciating each word.
Just then he heard the high-pitched grinding sound of a small engine echoing through the air outside the barn.
“Well, it turns out it worked for her, schedule-wise, to charter a flight out yesterday, so she took the opportunity and got on over here. She was going to find someplace to hole up for the week until our swap started, but that might have tipped off reporters. So, I kind of told Katie she could probably tell Pippa to just go straight to Blue Hollow Falls. Since I’m not directly swapping my place with hers, it doesn’t really matter if we go at the exact same time.” Moira said this all in a rush without taking a breath. “But if it’s storming up there, then she’s probably stuck somewhere.”
Seth walked over to the barn’s sliding-panel doors and nudged one open. He was thankful he still wore the sunglasses so he wasn’t blinded by the sudden, blinding glare of white, or the stinging flakes driven by the wind into his face and beard. Through the blur, he managed to make out a sleek, red and white snowmobile as it popped up over the ridge just south of the barn ... and plowed right into the middle of a huge, windblown snowdrift. “Yeah, she’s stuck somewhere all right,” Seth said, listening as the sound of the motor instantly died out. “I gotta go, Mouse.”
“Seth, wait, I—”
“I’ll call you back. I think I need to go dig my new houseguest out of a snowbank. Also? You’ve just used up every last one of your favors until you’re thirty.” He thought he saw arms and legs clad in bright aqua blue poking out of the snowbank as someone appeared to be fighting their way out of the pile of white stuff. “Make that forty.” He ended the call, yanked his hat back on, and was already running into the storm.
Seth was halfway to the snowbank before he realized he’d left his gloves and the liners back in the barn. He was used to working in the cold, so that part he didn’t mind. Digging a snowmobile out of a drift the size of a small mountain with his bare hands? Not so much. “Hold on,” he yelled. “Help’s coming.” He doubted she’d hear him over the howl of the wind, but he had to try. The last thing he wanted her to do was thrash around and end up sinking herself and the machine in any deeper. He just hoped to God she wasn’t injured. Or worse.
He’d recognized the snowmobile as belonging to Mabry Jenkins, who, until about five minutes ago, Seth had thought of as a fairly intelligent man. Mabry owned a big apple orchard just down the mountain from Seth’s vineyard. Snowmobiles were an easy way to check on the orchards and the vines, or any other part of their extensive properties during the winter. Seth owned one, too. To hear Mabry tell it, most winters didn’t dump enough snow to make it worth taking the covers off the things. This wasn’t one of those winters.
Seth was already formulating the earful he’d be giving the older man later, as he moved off the path he’d plowed that morning between the barn and the house and waded into snow that was hip deep in places where the wind had caused it to drift. He was wading through it as fast as he could and had gotten close, when what sounded like a faint shriek made his heart momentarily stand still. He swore under his breath and redoubled his efforts, forcing lengthier strides through the snowpack. He was, first and foremost, concerned with the welfare of his new houseguest. But he’d be lying if a small part of him wasn’t also visualizing a headline screaming something along the lines of, NEW WINERY OWNER PERMANENTLY INJURES FAMOUS IRISH FOLK SINGER IN FREAK SNOWMOBILE ACCIDENT! His business would be doomed before he even got it off the ground.
His baby sister was right when she’d said Seth had seen a lot of the world, most of it bad. Given that, his mind could conjure up in rather alarming detail any number of potential scenarios that awaited him on the far side of that mound of snow, all of them grim.
So he was completely unprepared for the sight that awaited him when he finally made it around to the other side of the wind-whipped bank.
Standing in the small clearing made by the snowmobile’s entrance into the towering drift stood a mere wisp of a thing, hands planted on narrow hips, and the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever seen stretched across her pale, gamine face. “Well, that was bloody brilliant, wasn’t it then,” she said on a hoarse gasp, looking almost delighted by her predicament.
“You’re lucky you. . .
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