Just this morning, Faith had probably seen a dozen people she knew: Lorelei from the bakery on the green; her old classmate Theresa DeFilio, and her parade of children, following her like beautiful, dark-haired ducklings. Faith’s old Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Linqvist, who still made Faith feel guilty. The football coach’s wife. Jack’s high school girlfriend. The nurse from Jeremy’s office.

As for Jeremy himself, she’d be seeing him tomorrow night.

Faith took another breath, and, as ever, the uniquely sweet smell of the Finger Lakes air—grapes and grass—calmed her. The smell of home.

Blue was back, but he raced past her, woofing joyfully around his tennis ball.

“Hey, Faith.”

“Hey, Pru! What are you doing here?”

“Just figured I’d come have a look, see what you were doing up here.” She threw Blue’s tennis ball into the woods. “About time Dad green-lighted this. All the other vineyards have been doing weddings for years.” She took off her hat and ran a hand through her salt-and-pepper hair.

They were quiet a moment, the beauty of the gray day solemn somehow.

“How are you, Pru? You seem a little down.”

Her sister sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired. Early harvest and all that. Dad’s driving me crazy, as usual.” She glanced over at Faith. “Also, I feel like Carl and I are living in a porno these days. Sex, sex, sex, all the time.”

“Oh! How thrilling!” Faith glanced at her sister’s face. “Oops. Not thrilling?”

“First it was just hints, you know? Like, did I want a bikini wax, or could we talk dirty. Then...” To Faith’s horror, Prudence’s eyes filled with tears. “Shit, Faith. I don’t know. The whole bringing sexy back...you know that song? By that cute boy?”

“Yeah, I know it,” Faith said grimly.

“Who is he again?”

“Justin Timberlake.”

“Right. “Bring Sexy Back” or something. Well, I didn’t know sexy was gone. Now Carl wants me to be all creative. You know what he brought back from Costco last week? Eight cans of whipped cream, Faith. Eight.”

“That’s a lot,” Faith said. Time to swear off dairy.

“And it’s having the opposite effect. Right? Like, the storm of love I used to have has dried to a mist, because all of a sudden, plain old marital brevity isn’t good enough. Oh, and the other day, Abby walked in on us, and she’s not speaking to me at the moment. Last week, Faith, I had a mammogram, you know?”

Faith looked up sharply. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure! But I was looking forward to it! Like, that was my special alone time, just me and the boob squisher. I didn’t have to talk dirty to Carl or wear Vulcan ears—”

“Oh, boy.”

“—or deal with the kids, Dad wasn’t asking me questions and Honor wasn’t up my butt. The mammogram people were running behind, so I got to sit there in a bathrobe and read a magazine and it was the best time I’ve had in ages! Even when my boob was in the machine, I said to the woman, ‘No, no, take your time,’ and I meant it!”

“Pru!” Faith pulled her sister into a hug, and Blue, panting, joined in the comfort, nosing against the two of them, whining. “Oh, honey. Maybe you just need some time away.”

“I know that, Faith!” she barked. “But I can’t. We’ve got harvest, which is seven days a week till it’s done, then we have the ice wine harvest, then it’s the stupid holidays, and really, why did Baby Jesus have to be born in December? Because March is wide open! I’m just saying.”

“I think Jesus was actually born in—you know what? It doesn’t matter. You should get away for a few days. Alone. I’ll drive Abby wherever she needs to go, and make dinner for everyone or whatever you need. Really, Pru.”

Her sister straightened up and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt, then scratched Blue behind his ears. “It’s a nice thought,” she said. “But I can’t.”

“Well, you can. You’re choosing not to. Don’t be a martyr, Pru.”

“Please. You sound so California. And being a martyr is our family motto.” Her sister wiped her eyes again. “Let’s change the subject. Show me what you have in mind for up here. Come on. Chop, chop. I don’t have all day.”

“Sure.” Faith led her sister into the woods proper. The path was overgrown, but it was there. A squirrel chastised them from a tree branch overhead, and the smell of rain was thicker now. Blue led the way, his tail waving.

“I haven’t been up here in years,” Prudence said behind her. “Always too busy, I guess.”

“Do you remember the barn?” Faith asked, holding a branch back so her sister wouldn’t get whacked.

“Not really.”

“Well, here we are.”

They stood in front of what currently didn’t look like much: the rock walls of the old barn, which had been built in the early 1800s and burned when Teddy Roosevelt was President. The roof and interior had been destroyed in the fire, as well as the wooden doors, leaving a wide gap in the wall.

Faith went inside, Pru on her heels. “Huh,” her sister said.

Three walls of ragged stone surrounded them. The floor had long been taken over by forest grass and moss, and lichen had coated the rock walls. But the best part was—to Faith’s mind, anyway—that the lake-facing wall had crumbled, opening the space up to the most amazing view. Thanks to the steepness of the hills, they could see the tops of the trees in front of them. Past that were the fields of grapevines, the white buildings of Blue Heron—the New House, the tasting room, the barn where the wine aged in tanks and casks—and then more fields and woods, and finally Keuka, the Crooked Lake itself.

“So how would this work for weddings and such?” Pru asked.

“Well, this would be the space. You could get about seventy-five people in here, give or take. I’d level off the floor but maybe keep it grass. Then we’d build a cantilevered deck, so you could stand out there like you were on the prow of a ship, ten, fifteen, twenty feet off the ground as the floor extended out. Maybe take down a tree or two and open up the view.”

“What if it rains?” Pru asked.

“That’s the magical part,” Faith said. “You can get clear roofing material, and if Dad wanted to get really fancy, we could take the roof on and off, depending on the time of year or forecast. A fireplace over here for some ambience, build a little stone terrace out here for cocktails. Wouldn’t it be beautiful? So you’d be under the stars, dancing on air, all this beauty around you.” She looked at her sister. “What do you think?”

“Frickin’ amazing,” Prudence said. “Wow, Faith! You can do all that?”

“Sure! I’d make a parking area back there on the ridge, widen the path down here, get the doors replaced. You’d come in and boom—magic.”

“Parking? Kitchen? Electric?”

“I talked to the building officer about permits, and she doesn’t see a problem. We’d just need to dig a trench, lay down some PVC, run electric up from the road. The old well might still be usable. Over there, see that area? That’s where the milking shed was. The caterers could set up in there.”

And if it looked anything like what she had in her mind’s eye, it would be incredible, one of her most intricate projects as a landscape architect yet...and, finally, her contribution to the family business. Her little stone playhouse, transformed. “Think Dad’ll like it?”

“Dad would like the Superdome if it made you stay home, Faithie. And I already love it,” Pru said, putting her arm around Faith. “Mom would be proud.”

One of these days, those words wouldn’t kick her quite so hard. One of these days.

The rain that had been threatening began to fall, pattering gently. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride,” Pru said. “My truck’s at the cemetery.”

Halfway between the old barn and the vineyard buildings was the family cemetery. Seven generations of Hollands, from the soldier who’d fought in the Battle of Trenton with George Washington to the most recent burial—Mom.

Prudence cleared away some wilted flowers from Mom’s marker. Constance Verling Holland, age 49. Beloved daughter, wife and mother. Always a smile in her heart.

“You ever come here to talk to Mom?” Pru asked.

Faith blinked. “Oh, sure,” she lied.

“Me, too. Dad comes all the time, of course.” She straightened up. “Hey, thanks for listening.”

“You bet. That’s what sisters are for.”

At that moment, Pru’s phone buzzed. She looked at it and pressed a button. “Hi, Levi, what’s up?” she asked.

At his name, Faith felt her skin prickle. She’d have to get used to it, she guessed. The guy was everywhere.

“She did what? Where? Is she okay? Right. Right. Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Pru’s face was white.

“What happened?” Faith asked, her heart galloping in fear.

“It’s Abby. She was jumping into the falls. Drunk. With two boys.” Pru glanced at Faith. “She’s okay, but Levi’s got the three of them down at the station. Will you drive?”

Moments later, they were in the tiny police station. There was Abby, teary-eyed and defiant, sitting at Levi’s desk. Thank God, she seemed fine. Levi was there as well, and Everett Field, for whom Faith used to babysit. No sign of the boys in question.

“Baby, are you okay? Are you an idiot? I can’t believe you’d do something so stupid!” Prudence barked.

“Really, Mom? You’re gonna tell me I’m stupid? Who’s got a thing for Dr. Spock, huh? You and Dad, that’s who. That’s stupid.”

“It’s Mr. Spock, okay?” There was an aborted snort from Emmaline, who’d been a year ahead of Faith in school. “And we’re talking about an underage girl getting drunk and doing stupid, dangerous, life-threatening things with boys. I thought you were smarter, Abby!”

Faith glanced at Levi, who looked quite intimidating, his face in a slight scowl, arms folded across his chest. If he flexed his biceps, that shirt was going to rip, which she probably shouldn’t be noticing right now. Behind him, Everett imitated Levi’s pose. Didn’t have quite the same effect. He smiled at her and gave a little wave, then remembered he was an officer of the law and resumed frowning.

According to Levi, Abby had been talked into showing Adam Berkeley and Josh Deiner the falls on the Holland property. Josh had brought a six-pack, so he was in the most trouble, as was the package store employee who hadn’t carded him. The kids had each had a couple of beers, then jumped off the rock into the water, swimming and goofing around, when a lost hiker came upon them and correctly guessed that they were underage. Levi had scared the bejesus out of them by showing up.

“I may puke,” Abby muttered, swallowing. Levi nudged the trash can closer to her with his foot, his expression unchanging.

“You know your uncle Jack broke his arm out there,” Pru went on. “And what you were going to do with those boys, I have no idea!”

“We weren’t gonna have sex!” Abby wailed. “If they’d even tried anything, I would’ve bitten everyone.”

“You’re drunk. I can’t believe my little girl is drunk,” Pru said, her voice baffled.

“And you’re a sex addict,” Abby said.

“Underage drinking is against the law,” Levi said, his voice mild. “What you were doing was stupid, Abby. Your mother is right. Two boys, one girl, stupid. And that gorge is dangerous. A hiker broke his neck out there last year, and it took us four hours just to get him out. He’s paralyzed for life.”

Abby’s eyes filled with tears. “Everyone hates me,” she said, then promptly puked into the garbage can, making Everett gag in sympathy.

“Levi, can I take her home?” Prudence asked, and Faith’s heart gave a tug. Poor Pru looked years older.

“Absolutely,” Levi said. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Okay, baby,” Pru said, holding Abby’s hair away from her face. “Let’s get you home. We’ll deal with this when you’re sober.”

“Like you’re so perfect,” Abby sobbed. “Auntie, didn’t you ever do anything stupid when you were my age?”

Why yes, honey, as a matter of fact. Faith cleared her throat and didn’t look at Levi. Her face felt hot. “Well, sure. But there’s stupid, and then there’s life-threatening. Let’s go home and clean you up, and you can enjoy your very first hangover.”

“Am I gonna be arrested or something?” Abby asked, looking at Levi.

“Go home and sleep it off, Abby,” he said. “All three of you kids will have to do some community service. But don’t you ever do something like this again, you got it? Josh Deiner is not someone you want to hang out with.”

“Okay,” she muttered, tears dripping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“Let’s get you home. Your father’s going to have a fit, you know.”

This brought on more sloppy crying. Faith sighed and grabbed Abby’s backpack.

“It was so great seeing you,” Everett whispered, beaming. “Want to have a drink sometime?”

“No! I mean, sure, to catch up, but not romantically, okay? Because I babysat you.” Faith smiled firmly.