t first in the

ull. Free. A sound with no agenda. It happened while they were pruning late-season grapes, and Leo

ing in him clicked-like an ol

October, the vineyar

st was ap

es. Local help had started showing up-friends of her late father, neighbors with

t, hands blistered, back sore

im a clipboard. "Think you c

inked

r detail. You used to

"Only the cr

his one doesn't have

clipboard. Didn't sa

home and Leo was asleep on the couch ag

sipped bourbon li

ating around," she sai

kno

one mad. That you're hid

s place barely qual

. I mean, even just to clar

m not sure I wa

hool called today. They're doing a

d. "That sh

m you make d

d. "Well, he

time. "You make thing

l. Because she never

nded a lot lik

re harvest, the

th a growl, and the forecasts were grim

halia muttered, eyes on the satell

aporate over a single cloud system in Qatar. But this? This wa

k now,"

s ea

s sa

o played with the dog inside

e. We start at

rty-eight h

s. Teenagers with Bluetooth earbuds and grape-stained jeans. Dogs barki

by barking orders.

the pulley system when it jammed. People followed him be

a not

but the grapes

inside, drinking warm cider a

s sat across from her, his hoodie dam

oss the table a

use she

she wa

or the other shoe

"I think I've al

en maybe this is the part where

her fingers.

inside him w

d, Chris opened his laptop

n glowed

sages. Headlines. Requests. Accusations. A few conce

d one m

: I'm n

o

m not gone. And for once, I think I'm building someth

looking. I've

it s

went to sleep in a room that sm