I spent the first part of the week cleaning up Grayson's office and trying to make some sense out of the financial files, Walter helping me where he could, since he'd been the one keeping things updated as much as possible, although he didn't know the programs as well as I did.

"Walter," I asked, as he went through the accounts payable with me, "do you think I could see some of the financials going a few years back? I don't want to overstep my bounds, but I want to get a better idea of where things started going downhill for the winery." I thought if I understood why things had crumbled (literally and figuratively) so quickly once Ford Hawthorn had become ill, I would better be able to help manage the vineyard accounts, maybe even offer some advice to Grayson—not that he deserved it. I should probably watch in glee as he failed to fulfill his vow. But I couldn't do that. My heart wasn't in it, and I wanted to see Gram's money go to good use as well.

Walter cleared his throat, and I thought he looked slightly uncomfortable. "The records weren't well kept back then. Everything was neglected once Mr. Hawthorn became ill."

"But surely there's something? If I could just take a quick look at whatever there is, I think it might help. Really, I don't know if I can help now if I don't understand what happened in the past."

Walter was quiet for so long, I didn't know if he'd heard me. But when I looked up, he was staring at me intently. I almost startled. I'd never seen a look that was anything other than impassive on Walter's face. "I'll see what I can find," he finally said.

"Thanks, Walter."

Later that day, when Walter brought me a stack of CD-ROMs, he looked me pointedly in the eye and said, "These are the accounting records going back five years."

"Oh," I said, stepping closer to him to take the discs, "thanks so much."

I put my hands on them, but he held them as he said, "Like you said, it's easier to help in the present if you understand the past. I hope these are useful."

I frowned. "Yes . . ."

Walter let go of the stack, nodding his head to me and walking stiffly away. What had that been about?

I didn't have time to begin going through the discs until I had the current files updated, so I put my effort into that. I also sought out Vanessa in the kitchen and asked if she had time to help me with the party preparations. We'd already received a handful of RSVPs, enough to make me slightly nervous—people were going to show up; we'd better be ready. And I could use some assistance. I explained the theme to Vanessa and showed the lists I'd made so far.

"Oh my goodness, of course. I'd love to," she said. "What an incredible idea."

"What's an incredible idea?" I heard in a deep dragon timbre from behind me. We both whirled around to watch Grayson as he strode to the refrigerator and took out several bottles of water, Sugie Sug trailing behind him. My eyes raked over Grayson. I hadn't seen him in days and it felt like my eyes had been starved. He was sweaty and gorgeously flushed. I looked away, feeling pained by my reaction to him. Clearly, he was completely unaffected by me now that Vanessa was around.

"Kira's party idea," Vanessa said. "Did she tell you? It's a fairy-tale masquerade—"

"She told me," Grayson said, opening a bottle of water and taking a long drink. I watched as his throat muscles worked, swallowing the water, and when I looked up at his face, his eyes were zeroed in on me. I looked away again, pretending to concentrate on my list. I felt my cheeks flush and wanted to kick myself.

Vanessa looked at me excitedly. "My very favorite fairy-tale character is Tinkerbell." She laughed. "Is that dumb?"

I smiled at her. "Not at all. As long as you can convince Shane to dress up as Peter Pan."

She laughed again, the sound as musical a sound as I'd ever heard. She'd be the perfect Tinkerbell. She'd be the perfect anything. I looked at her standing there in her long coral-and-white-striped halter dress, her hair sleek, golden, and straight to her shoulders. She was perfect. I hated her. No, I didn't. I liked her—I hated that I liked her. Why couldn't she have been a big ol' bitch? "I'll make sure he's a masculine looking Peter. With just enough boyish-ness. Just like him."

"What?" I asked distractedly. I shook my head, forcing myself back to the conversation. "Oh . . . Shane . . . Peter Pan, right."

I glanced up at Grayson who was slowly screwing the cap back on the water bottle, his expression hard, a small tick working in his jaw.

Sugie tentatively sniffed Vanessa's feet and Vanessa leaned down, her hand petting Sugie's head quickly and then drawing back. "I feel like I'll hurt her every time I go to touch her," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.

"You won't," I said. "She needs love more than anything. The only thing that will hurt her is holding it back."

Grayson stared at me for a moment and then without a word, turned and walked out of the kitchen. Sugie followed him, looking back at the doorway and letting out a small moan, then lowering her head and running to catch up to Grayson.

My heart clenched in pain. I looked back at my list to hide my face from Vanessa's probing eyes. He couldn’t even pretend to like me, for appearance's sake? What must Shane and Vanessa think?

"I'm sorry, Kira," Vanessa said. "Our presence is putting a strain on your marriage. We should go—"