Rainshadow Road (Friday Harbor #2)(11)

“Took the afternoon off,” Alex said, raising the bottle to his lips, draining the rest of the beer.

He was going through a divorce after four years of marriage to a woman he should have known better than to get entangled with in the first place. His wife, Darcy, had managed to chew through a prenup like a beaver through balsa wood, and was now in the process of dismantling the carefully ordered life Alex had worked so hard to build.

“You met with your lawyer?” Sam asked.

“Yesterday.”

“How’d it go?”

“Darcy’s keeping the house and most of the money. Now the lawyers are negotiating for my kidneys.”

“Sorry. I’d hoped it would work out for you.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth. Sam had never been able to stand Darcy, whose sole ambition in life was to be a trophy wife. Sam would have bet the vineyard that his brother was being traded in for a more affluent husband.

“I knew when I married her that it wasn’t going to last,” Alex said.

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Tax benefits.” Alex glanced quizzically at Renfield, who was butting his head against his leg, and he reached down to scratch the dog’s back. “The thing is,” he said, turning his attention back to Sam, “we’re Nolans. None of us will ever have a marriage that lasts longer than the average house plant.”

“I’m never getting married,” Sam said.

“Smart,” Alex said.

“It has nothing to do with being smart. It’s just that I always feel closer to a woman knowing I can walk away from her at any moment.”

At the same time, they both detected the smell of something burning, drifting from the open windows. “What the hell is that?” Sam asked.

“Mark is cooking,” Alex said.

The front door opened, and Holly rushed outside, giving a little squeal as she saw Sam. He laughed and caught her as she hurled herself at him. When they saw each other at the end of the day, Holly always acted like they had been apart for weeks.

“Uncle Sam!”

“Hey, gingersnap.” He gave her a noisy kiss. “How was school?”

“Miss Duncan taught us some French words today. And I told her I already knew some.”

“Which ones?”

“Rouge, blanc, sec, and doux. Miss Duncan asked where I learned those words, so I told her from my uncle, and he’s a winemaker. And then she said she didn’t know the French word for ‘winemaker,’ so we looked it up in the dictionary and we couldn’t find it.”

“That’s because there isn’t one.”

The child looked aghast. “Why not?”

“The closest word they have is ‘vigneron,’ which means vine grower. But the French believe that nature is the winemaker, not the guy who tends the vineyard.”

Holly touched her nose to his. “When you start making wine from your own grapes, are you going to name one after me?”

“Of course I am. Should it be a red or a white?”

“Pink,” Holly said decisively.

Sam pretended to be appalled. “I do not make pink wine.”

“Pink and sparkly,” Holly insisted, giggling at his expression. Squirming free of Sam’s embrace, she crouched down to Renfield, who had padded over to her.

“What is Mark making for dinner?” Sam asked.

“I can’t tell,” Holly said, scratching Renfield’s neck. “It’s on fire.”

“It’s fish taco Friday at the Market Chef,” Sam said. “Why don’t you run back in and ask him if he wants to go out to eat tonight?”

Holly sent Alex a hopeful glance. “Will you come too?”

Alex shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

The child looked concerned. “Are you still having your divorce?”

“Still having it,” Alex said.

“When it’s over, are you going to get married again?”

“Only if I manage to forget what it was like to be married the first time.”

“Don’t listen to Uncle Alex,” Sam said hastily. “Marriage is great.” He did his best to sound sincere.

“Marriage is like getting a box of raisins on Halloween,” Alex said. “Someone tries to convince you it’s a treat. But when you open the box, it’s still raisins.”

“I like raisins,” Holly said.

Sam smiled at her. “So do I.”

“Did you know that if you leave grapes under the couch for a really long time, they turn into raisins?”

Sam’s smile faded, and his brows lowered. “How did you find that out, Holly?”

A brief hesitation. “Never mind,” she said brightly, and disappeared into the house with Renfield hustling after her.

Sam considered his brother with a frown. “Alex, do me a favor. Don’t share your opinions about marriage with Holly. I’d like to preserve her illusions until at least the age of eight.”

“Sure.” Alex set the empty beer bottle on the porch railing and stood. “But if I were you, I’d be careful what you tell her about marriage. At worst it’s a mindf*ck, and at best, it’s an outdated institution. The fact is, there probably isn’t someone out there who’s just right for you, and if you do find that person, it’s not likely the feeling will be mutual. So if you’re raising Holly to think that life’s a fairy tale, you’re setting her up for some painful lessons in reality.”