The flight was long. Sophia sat beside Max, holding his hand as his thumb
rolled tender circles in her palm. It was an exquisite sensation that soothed her. She'd walked away from her father and her comfortable, wealthy life in order to forge a new life with the man who had stolen her heart and altered her perspective. What lie ahead was a complete unknown and it thrilled her.

Across the first class aisle, Titus Pullo snored. His fingers twitched and she wondered what adventures played in his dreams. She was far too excited to sleep, but she was dreaming. Dreaming of nights, hot and intense, with Max, of days looking over the beautiful vineyard, of lazy afternoons sipping fine wine and wondering the Sonoma countryside. Chilled evenings in her lover's arms. She dreamed of the future, of becoming Mrs. Meridius, being in a place of honor among other successful winemakers of California…and perhaps the world, for how could a man such as hers do anything but excel at whatever he attempted? And the vineyard had been in his possession for years.

Max had told her of the time he spent doing other work, dangerous work and she was pleased that he, too, was facing a life change. Together they would grow and expand their new universe. Together, they could do anything. Too bad they would be doing it along side Pullo.

She regretted ever spending time in bed with Pullo. Even though Max knew of the event, he seemed relaxed around the man. This was new to Sophia who had always been the reason men around her fought…sometimes nearly to the death for sole possession of her. She'd never known a man like Max Meridius; a man so completely comfortable in his skin and his soul. She had much to learn from him. But for the moment, all she could do was dream of the beautiful, serene and pleasant life awaiting her in Sonoma California at his vineyard…Los Olivos…home.

Max was not dreaming. He was pondering what he would be facing, determining what he would need to move his vineyard ahead…and concerned. He had yet to confess the condition of the vineyard to Sophia. Pullo cared little, work was work and he sought activity. He would be pleased, especially if the land was in a desperate state and much was required of him. Maximus worried for the soil, he worried for the orchards and the vines. And he closed his eyes in prayer, petitioning the gods for a gentle hand at the point of their arrival.

Max had not been to the vineyard in nearly two years. He had hired caretakers, but they were given minimal responsibility and had made virtually no contact or reports. Perhaps they had abandoned him. As important as his work had been with Thorne and O'Leary, he felt deep remorse for the neglect of his first true love…the land. The flight attendant announced that preparations were to be made for landing. Soon enough he would know what he was facing at Los Olivos.

"There was a fire," he said calmly as they drove to the vineyard. "Two years ago. I have not seen the land since, but I understand there was damage."

"Lots of damage, then," Pullo tried to keep the distress from his voice as they rounded the rubble of what looked to have once been a beautiful home. Turning the curve, he finally gasped, relinquishing all attempts to sound reassuring. "Bloody hell! Maximus, so much is charred! It reminds me of - "

"Yes, my friend," Max interrupted before Pullo could say more. No need for Sophia to hear the aftermath of ancient wars. No need for her to again hear the name Max had clearly asked Pullo not to use. Luckily, her attention, like Pullo's was focused on the ruined land.

"I lost fourteen acres to the fire. But I have put in a bid for another twenty north, on that slope," he pointed.

"Oh, Max," Sophia sighed and reached a hand to his knee.

"It will be fine, my dear. It will just take time to rebuild. Let's see how the remainder of the vineyard has faired."

He drove the perimeter, not extremely unhappy as most of the remaining land was unscathed, although unkempt and overgrown. At the house, they walked to the heavy black wooden gate. He unlocked it and pushed. Pullo strolled in with a nod, but Sophia's mouth dropped. The courtyard was large, lined with shabby trees and overgrown plants. A fountain dominated the center of the flagstone area; it was not running, filled with muddy ash and dead leaves. Her heart dropped further when they entered the house.

Maximus, Pullo and Sophia slowly walked in different directions from the foyer. The beautiful Spanish mission-style structure was sturdy, but filthy. Soot and smoke had penetrated the casement windows, the rooms smelled stuffy and dry. Pullo threw open several windows along his way.

Almost immediately, Sophia found herself overwhelmed with disappointment. She reached the furthest room and leaned back against the wall, hiding tears that covered her face. What had she gotten herself into? Was it possible, even for Max, to regain the original beauty of the place? She attempted to wipe her face as the men talked from across the house.

"Ah, we have much cleaning to do," Max said as he entered the bedroom. Sophia turned away, opened drawers in search of useable bedding.

"Yes," she managed to say as Max moved down the hall to examine further.

"Don't worry, love. I'll help you," Pullo patted her shoulder and grinned.

That night, after sharing passion with Max, Sophia cried silently. Across the hall, Pullo snored and beside her, Max's sleep breath whispered. He was exhausted. The flights from Vermont to Rome, from Rome to Vermont, then Vermont to California all in four short days had taken its toll. She, too, was tired but unable to sleep…until a thought came to her, the vision of possibilities that at first charged her heart then calmed her into slumber, deep and rich.

Maximus rose early and went into town. There he ran errands, purchased croissants and scones, jams and three large cups of Starbucks coffee. Quietly, he moved around his kitchen. Using an old tee shirt, he dampened it and washed off the large dark wooden table, chairs and counters. He cleaned a plate and mug, then carefully placed the most perfect pastries, poured the coffee and turned to take his offerings to Sophia. But to his surprise, she was standing at the doorway.

She was awake and dressed, her hair tied back in a kerchief, a pillowcase wrapped around her waist and a brilliant smile adorned her fresh face.

"Good morning," he grinned.

"Buon giorno, mio amore."

His eyes glistened. "Sit, sit, I have much to tell you and I must leave soon. Sophia, I have hired a cleaning company to come and take care of the house. You mustn't feel that you must do all this."

She sat, smiled, took his hand. "That is foolishness. This is my home now. I will clean this house. Do not worry for me. It will be fine. Bello! Perfezionare! You will see. Now go, go do what you must."

She sighed, spun on her toes and propped hands on her hips.

"Reporting for duty, my lady of the house. I'll help out until Max returns." Pullo snagged a croissant, tucked the whole thing in his mouth, then spoke through crumbs. "Where shall we start?"