Free An Unlikely Love by Dorothy Clark Page B

smile and shook his head. “Not at all. It’s a lovely night, though there’s a breeze quickening and the smell of rain in the air.”
    The hem of her dressing gown brushed against the painted floorboards as she came to join him by the railing. “Are you concerned a rain will harm the grapes this close to harvest?”
    â€œNo. It would take a real cloud buster to hurt them now.” He took a sip of his strong black coffee and gazed out over the fields of vines.
How would Marissa feel about them?
    â€œWell, something has you restive.” Moonlight fell on her face as she tipped her head back to look up at him. “You’re not usually up making coffee during the wee hours of the night.”
    â€œUm...” Odd how that look made him want to spill out the truth like when he was a five-year-old. “Do you know about the Temperance Movement, Mother?”
    â€œI’ve heard of it. Why?” Her gaze narrowed on his. “Was that lecture on temperance at the assembly you told us about this evening? Is that what has you unsettled?”
    The lecture, and the lecturer.
He ignored her comment about his condition. “I’ve been pondering what the speaker said, and I wondered if you agreed with their message is all.”
    â€œI’m not familiar with their message.”
    He swirled his coffee around in the cup, watched it settle. “They stand against the use of all strong drink—including wine. Mari— The speaker quoted a warning against wine from the Bible.”
    â€œAnd that’s what disturbed you?”
    He ignored the niggling unease that had kept him from sleep and tugged his lips into a grin. “No reason why it should. I don’t drink wine.” A gust of wind blew a fine mist against his face. “Looks like we’d best finish our coffee inside. The rain is on its way.” He opened the kitchen door for his mother, swept another glance over the vines with their heavy burden of grapes then followed her inside.

Chapter Five
    T here were two bidders left. Grant looked at the vintner on his right and held his face impassive, though it wasn’t easy. The offers were already above what his father had hoped for. “Have you a counteroffer, Mr. Hardon?”
    The elderly man frowned and shook his head. “These are excellent grapes, and I hate to lose the advantage of first harvest, but the bid’s gone too high for me, Winston.” The owner of the Hickory Hill Winery tossed the concords he held to the ground. “I’ll take my chances on the good weather holding long enough to ripen the grapes at the other vineyards. Besides, I’m not eager to be the first one to face those protesting women.” The vintner brushed his hands together, gave his rival a grim smile. “I’ll leave that pleasure to you, Douglas. Maybe by the time the grapes I buy are ready for harvest, some of the zeal will have worn off and the women will be content to stay at home the way they always have. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”
    Protesting women?
Unease pricked him. Grant watched Thomas Hardon climb into his buggy and start his horse moving, shook off the disquiet and offered his hand to Dillon Douglas. “You have bought yourself an excellent yield of grapes, Mr. Douglas.”
    The owner of Oakwood Winery nodded, released his handshake and smiled. “Thanks to Hardon’s love of a penny and lack of stomach for a bit of trouble. Not that I expect anything to come of the rumor.”
    â€œAre you referring to the women Mr. Hardon spoke of? I’ve not heard anything.”
    â€œNone of us had until this morning when Hardon told us.” Dillon Douglas’s smile turned to a frown. “Seems as if this temperance stuff going on at the Chautauqua Assembly has stirred up some of the local women. Hardon’s wife overheard some talk that a few of them were going to try and form some sort of protest march against the