Читать книгу Second Chance In Stonecreek - Michelle Major, Michelle Major - Страница 11
ОглавлениеMonday morning, Maggie turned her car up the winding drive that led to Harvest Vineyards for the first time since she and her father had brought Morgan to the Stone family home after the fire.
With less than two weeks until the hospital fund-raiser, she couldn’t avoid it any longer. She’d managed to hold the gala committee meetings at the hospital or at her office in town. Jana Stone, Griffin’s mother, had attended all of them. She either hadn’t noticed—or was polite enough not to comment—on Maggie’s reluctance to make an appearance at the winery.
Today they were meeting to discuss decorations and a seating chart, so it couldn’t be avoided any longer. Although that was exactly what Maggie wanted to do after her run-in with Griffin at Fall Fest. She felt branded by the unexpected kiss, all of the emotions she’d locked up tightly now spilling forth, like a dam had broken inside her.
The vineyard seemed almost fallow now that harvest season was over. As she drove closer to the heart of the operations, she could see the rows of vines spread out along acres of land, the leaves turning colors of burnished orange and yellow with the change of seasons.
In contrast to the serenity of the fields, activity bustled outside the new tasting room. Several cars and trucks were parked in front of the building, although Maggie didn’t see Griffin’s Land Cruiser. That wasn’t a guarantee of his absence, so why did disappointment spear through her for a quick moment? It would be easier if she didn’t see him today, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to see him after the kiss. Better for both of them.
The building had a rustic farmhouse exterior with a stone veneer covering the bottom half. There were two chimneys and rough-hewn trusses that spanned the length of the building. A covered patio area took advantage of the expansive views of the vineyard below, and she could imagine tourists and locals alike enjoying long summer evenings around the built-in fire pit. The space was incredible and would definitely attract new visitors to the winery.
She took a deep breath as she exited her Volkswagen. The earthy scent of decaying leaves filled the air and although the vineyard was only twenty minutes from downtown, it felt like a world away. Had the property seemed this magical when it had been a regular farm, before Griffin’s late father, Dave, had planted the first grapes that would transform the land and his family’s fortunes?
“Hey, Maggie.”
She turned to see her former fiancé moving toward her. It had only been four months since her runaway-bride move at the local church, where half the town had been waiting to see the powerful Spencer and Stone families united, but to her it felt like ages since she’d been with Trevor.
Well, ages wasn’t too far off since the bedroom had never played a big role in their relationship. Theirs had been a union of convenience and practicality. Despite what he’d done to her and the price her reputation had paid for not revealing his betrayal, no emotion pinged through Maggie at the sight of him. Unlike with Griffin.
Trevor was safe, which was part of the reason she’d been with him in the first place.
“Hi, Trevor.” She smiled and allowed him to give her a quick hug. “The building looks great.”
He inclined his head. “I hate to give Griffin any credit, but he did a decent job.” Trevor was a couple inches shorter than his brother and considerably leaner, with neatly trimmed hair and the kind of expensively tailored clothes that would have been more appropriate for the big city. Maggie had never quite understood what had made him return to his family’s winery after college, although he was quite talented at his job as vice president of marketing for the vineyard.
In the five years since Trevor had taken over, Harvest had gone from a well-respected but relatively unknown winery to a national darling with several national and international award-winning vintages. Of course, a big part of the success was the quality of the wine, but Trevor’s efforts at marketing and branding played a part, as well.
“It’s more than decent,” Maggie said gently. She understood the animosity that had simmered for years between the brothers: Griffin, the elder rebel, and Trevor, the golden boy and apple of his father’s eye. But even though Griffin had hurt her with his rejection, she couldn’t let Trevor discount what he’d done here. “It’s incredible, Trev, and we both know it, especially given the setbacks he had because of—”
She broke off as Cole Maren, the former object of her sister’s affection, walked out of the front of the tasting room, carrying a rolled-up set of plans under one arm. He glanced over and his steps faltered for a second as he met Maggie’s gaze. His mouth curved into a ghost of a smile in greeting before he headed around the side of building.
“Yeah, incredible,” Trevor admitted reluctantly. “Although I can’t believe he kept that degenerate kid working here after his part in the fire.”
“The fire was Morgan’s fault,” Maggie said clearly, “and she still feels terrible.”
Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “I still think she’s covering for him.”
“You know that’s not—”
He held up a hand. “I don’t want to argue with you. I know how you are when you believe in something.” His mouth quirked. “A bulldog in a St. John’s suit.”
“It’s Calvin Klein,” Maggie corrected, color flooding her cheeks. In truth, she was as overdressed as Trevor for this meeting but she’d worn the chic fitted jacket and pencil skirt like a warrior might have donned his armor in medieval times. The suit made her feel braver than she knew herself to be. “Anyway, I appreciate how much your mom has done for the gala this year.”
“She’s enjoyed it.” Trevor rocked back on his heels. “It gives her a purpose other than trying to come up with bonding experiences for Griffin and me.”
“You’re both dedicated to the vineyard. Isn’t that something to bond over?”
“He walked away from us a decade ago.” Bitterness laced Trevor’s tone. “Had his own life in the army and working in construction until he deigned to once more grace us with his presence. That’s not dedication. It’s convenience and guilt over leaving in the first place. We’ll see how long he lasts once his debt is paid.”
By debt, Maggie knew Trevor was talking about the fire that had damaged the original tasting room, accidentally set by a teenage Griffin and several of his friends while they were partying. The careless mistake had led to a huge fight between Griffin and his dad, resulting in a rift among the Stone family that still hadn’t been fully repaired.
“We’ll agree to disagree,” she said simply, unwilling to engage in this argument.
Trevor studied her for a long moment. “He’s not here today, if you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” she lied.
“He went to Seattle with his ex-girlfriend.”
Maggie couldn’t help but notice the note of triumph in Trevor’s tone and kept her features placid. “We weren’t expecting him at this meeting anyway. Is your mom around?” She glanced at the driveway. “The rest of the committee should be here shortly.”
Trevor nodded. “She’s finishing up a call. That’s actually why I’m here. She sent me over to tell you she’ll be a few minutes late.”
“No problem.”
An awkward silence descended between the two of them.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” she told him after a moment.
His mouth tightened. “I miss our friendship.”
“We’re friends.” She shrugged. “Just not the same kind as before.”
“Want to grab a beer after work one night?”
“I...” She paused, unsure of how to answer. “Things are crazy with preparations for the gala.” His mouth pulled down into a frown and she saw him sigh. “But after it’s over, I’ll have more time. Maybe then?”
“Great.” Trevor flashed the boyish smile that was his trademark. “It’s a plan.”
He strode away from her and Maggie blew out a breath. Most of the time she loved living in a small town. She liked the familiarity of knowing her neighbors and the comfort that came from her routine. But some moments made her wish for the anonymity of big-city life. Like breaking up with someone and not having to worry about running into them or their mom or their brother or a dozen other mutual friends.
Her phone pinged and she pulled it from her purse. Her grandmother texting instructions on the size and placement of the centerpieces. She regretted encouraging Ben to teach Grammy how to text. It had quickly become her favorite means of lecturing Maggie.
“Ms. Spencer?”
She looked up to find Cole standing in front of her, looking like he hoped the ground would swallow him whole.
“Hey, Cole. I hear you’ve been a big part of keeping the tasting room renovations on track. Things look great.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, his gaze darting to hers before dropping again. The kid had probably grown three inches since Maggie had last seen him. He wore jeans and a Harvest Vineyards T-shirt with a small hole in the arm that looked like it came from catching it on a nail or something.
“I wanted to talk to you.” His brow furrowed. “Duh. Obviously.”
“What did you need?” She smiled, feeling sorry for the teen and his level of discomfort.
“It’s Morgan.” He looked at her, then away.
Maggie’s smile froze. “What about her?”
“You need to—Your dad needs to watch her better. She’s still running with the bad crowd.”
“Your crowd?” she asked.
He gave a sharp shake of his head. “I’m steering clear of them, and Morgan should, too. They’re not her real friends.”
Maggie shrugged. “I appreciate your concern, Cole, and I’ll talk to her. But we can’t control who she’s friends with at school. I wish—”
“What about on the weekends?”
“She’s still grounded,” Maggie said with a frown.
Cole took his phone from his back pocket and keyed in a code to unlock the home screen. He punched the screen again and then held up the phone to show Maggie a photo from one of the popular social media sites. Morgan had her arm around another girl, both of them wearing too much makeup and holding up red plastic cups.
The picture had been tagged “Saturday night shenanigans.”
“When was this taken?” she demanded.
“Two nights ago.”
After they’d had pie together and she’d gone to bed.
“Why are you showing it to me?”
He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “I’m telling you that group she’s trying so hard to be a part of is bad news. Trust me, Ms. Spencer.”
“I do,” she murmured and Cole’s gaze returned to hers, something like gratitude flashing in his eyes. Maggie knew her sister had a wild streak, but she’d thought the fire had taught her a lesson. Apparently not.
“Do you two...um... Are you friends anymore?”
He shook his head. “We never were.”
“That’s not what Morgan thought,” Maggie told him. “I don’t mean romantically, although I know she had those kinds of feelings for you until...” She glanced at the tasting room and saw Cole squirm.
“She’s too good for me,” he said, his voice flat, “just like she’s too good for the rest of the dumba—” he cleared his throat “—the idiots she calls her friends.”
“You’re not an idiot,” Maggie insisted, “and my sister clearly could use some friends who really care about her.”
He closed his eyes, chewing on his bottom lip like he couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to say. “Yeah,” he mumbled finally.
“Think about it,” she told him.
“Her dad... Your dad wouldn’t like that,” he said suddenly.
“Our father wants what’s best for Morgan. He’d get used to it.”
Cole tilted his head to one side, digesting that information. “I need to get back to work,” he told her as a car pulled up the driveway.
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He turned and walked toward the building. Maggie pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling nauseous. She hated to think of her sister still rebelling. Morgan had been hit hard by their mother’s death from ovarian cancer, somehow taking the loss to heart in a different way than Maggie or Ben. She had a lot in common with their father, actually. Dad had retreated into his art and Morgan had dealt with her grief first through acting out in little ways and now in a full-blown rebellion.
But Maggie wouldn’t give up on her sister. Morgan had a huge heart and so much potential. The election, fights with Grammy and Maggie’s own tattered heart weren’t nearly as important as Morgan. Maggie would do anything to make sure her sister stayed safe. Anything.
* * *
“Everyone was impressed by your work here.”
“Great,” Griffin answered absently, nailing a strip of weathered shiplap to the wall behind the tasting room bar. Most of the big items had been checked off the list: updated lighting for the room, expanded bathrooms for customers and a newly vaulted ceiling lined with reclaimed barn wood. The bar he’d had custom built by a renowned furniture maker north of Portland was due to be delivered next week.
The rest he was handling himself, with help after school from Cole. He was good at the general contractor piece, managing all the different subs and phases of a project. But he enjoyed working with his hands most of all, the satisfaction of creating something from nothing.
“It’s going to be a wonderful event,” his mother continued. “We’ve sold close to two hundred tickets.”
The hammer stilled and he turned around at that bit of news. “Really? That seems like a lot of people.” His skin itched at the thought of all those bodies and the conversation he’d be expected to make. Trevor thrived on that sort of stuff. His brother could glad-hand a fish if he thought it would increase exposure for the vineyard. Griffin still preferred to work behind the scenes.
“All those people are going to raise a lot of money for the new pediatric wing at the hospital.”
“Sick kids are a big draw,” he muttered.
“Griffin Matthew Stone.” Jana Stone could communicate more saying his full name out loud than most politicians did throughout an entire career of making stump speeches. The blatant disapproval in her tone felt familiar, if off-putting.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s a worthy cause. I know that. Today was rough.”
“Cassie’s doing okay?” his mother asked, her voice gentling.
“Yeah. I’ve never seen someone with such a great attitude. If optimism could cure cancer, she’d be well tomorrow.”
Jana frowned. “I thought her prognosis was good.”
“There’s no sure thing,” he answered, “and I can’t shake the feeling she isn’t telling me the whole truth. The business about a friendly visit down here, then insisting I go back to Seattle with her for a day to meet her son? It was strange.”
“People have different ways of dealing with that kind of news. You did a good thing by making time for her.”
“The boy is cute...” He picked up another board from the stack piled near the wall. “If you’re into kids.”
“Which you aren’t,” his mother said with an overdramatic sigh.
“There’s time for that.”
“Maggie was here yesterday,” Jana said casually.
He straightened and pointed the hammer at his mom. “That was the worst transition in the history of the world.”
She shrugged. “Subtlety isn’t my thing.”
“No doubt.”
“Sass,” she said, lifting one brow.
“How is she?” He went back to measuring his next board as he asked the question, knowing if his mom saw his face she’d be able to read exactly what he was thinking. She’d always had that ability. It was damn annoying.
“Efficient and capable as ever. It’s thanks to the changes she made to the event registration that helped us increase ticket sales so much. There’s an app for RSVPs and it even tracks the silent auction items. People are already bidding and the gala isn’t for two weeks. That girl really knows her stuff.”
“Since when did you become such a Spencer fan?” he asked, biting down on the edge of a nail while he lifted the shiplap into place.
“I’m a fan of Maggie,” his mother corrected.
He began hammering the wood, not wanting to continue this conversation. At all.
“So is Dr. Starber,” she said loudly.
Griffin cursed as the hammer slammed against his thumb. He squeezed his fingers around the throbbing digit, bending forward and trying hard not to spit out the vilest words he knew. And that was saying something thanks to his years in the army and on various construction sites around the Pacific Northwest.
His mother tutted. “You should be careful. I can grab an ice pack from the main house.”
He shook out his hand. “It’s fine. Who’s Dr. Starber?”
“He’s the chief of pediatrics at Willamette Central Hospital,” she reported. “He’s a member of the planning committee and drops in on some of our meetings. We wanted his input on seating hospital staff.”
Griffin snorted. “What kind of doctor has time to go to gala meetings?”
“The kind,” Jana said with an eye roll, “who is interested in dating our Maggie.”
Your Maggie. Our Maggie.
A muscle ticked in Griffin’s jaw. In truth, he’d always thought of Maggie Spencer as her own person.
“What’s this Dr. Feel Good look like?” he demanded.
“Tall, with sandy-blond hair, ruddy cheeks and blue eyes.”
The man he’d seen talking to Maggie at the festival.
“He’s not nearly as handsome as you.” His mother patted his arm.
“I wasn’t aware I was competing with him.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Mom, you know there’s nothing going on with Maggie and me.”
“There was not so long ago,” she countered.
“It got complicated.” The word tasted like ash in his mouth. He hated that word. Complicated.
“It’s a relationship with a woman, Griffin.” Jana sniffed delicately. “Of course things got complicated. She isn’t a blow-up doll.”
“Mom.” He groaned. “Geez.”
She waved off his embarrassment. “All I’m saying is that you’d better do something if you don’t want to lose her.”
“She isn’t mine to lose.”
“She should be.”
He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t find the words. “Why are you pushing this?” he asked instead. “You don’t even like the Spencers.”
“That’s not true.” Jana crossed her arms over her chest. “Vivian Spencer is a bully and always has been. I don’t care for her, but the rest of the family... They’re good people.”
“Even Morgan?”
“Those who live in glass houses...” his mom said gently and shame winged through Griffin. He’d been the king of adolescent stupidity in his time. “Morgan is a careless teenager who made a careless mistake. I don’t think it means she’s a terrible person. Maggie... Well, I’ll admit I was upset with how things ended between her and your brother.”
Griffin dropped the hammer to one of the sawhorses and tapped a finger on his chin, as if contemplating her words. “I’m fairly certain you had visions of tackling her to the ground and clawing out her eyes.”
“Always with the sass.” She shook her head. “I see now that the match never would have worked. Trevor...” She paused. “Your brother has done an amazing job with the Harvest brand. But he has bigger dreams than Stonecreek. I don’t want this life to limit him.”
“He made the choice to come back after college,” Griffin pointed out. “Dad made him the heir apparent. Trevor loves that.”
“Trevor feels loyal because of that,” she corrected. “It isn’t the same thing. The vines aren’t in his blood.”
Griffin frowned as he thought about that. He’d never considered what it meant that his brother didn’t feel the same way about the vineyard as he did. He was too busy being angry that Dad had chosen Trevor as his favorite and all but told Griffin he wasn’t worthy to be a part of the family legacy.
“Anyway,” his mom continued, “you’ve done an amazing job here and—”
“Was Dad my real father?” he blurted.
Jana’s face paled and her eyes widened. “What would make you ask such a thing?” she asked in a choked whisper.
He wanted to close his eyes against the pain he saw in her gaze but forced himself not to look away. He favored his mother’s family in looks, the green eyes and olive-toned skin, whereas Trevor was the spitting image of their father. Griffin hadn’t thought much about it as a kid, but as he’d grown older and his relationship with Dave Stone had deteriorated, he’d begun to question why his dad had seemed so unwilling to love him.
“He never liked me,” he said and his mother’s eyes filled with tears. “I just thought...if there was an explanation like—”
“You were his son,” she said flatly. “His biological son.”
“Huh.” Disappointment and relief flooded Griffin in equal measure.
“Oh, Griffin.” His mom moved forward, coming around the sawhorses to wrap her arms around him. “I’ve made my share of mistakes in life, and it kills me that you paid the price.”
“What mistakes?” He pulled back to look at her. “If there wasn’t another man...”
Jana wiped at her cheeks and sniffed.
“Mom, don’t cry.”
“It’s fine,” she told him, taking a step away. “I’m fine. But there was another man. A boy, really. We were so young, and I was in love. My family had moved here the summer before my senior year so my dad could take a job as a field hand. We were struggling, and Dad tended to be a messy drunk when he got down about our situation. We weren’t exactly good stock.”
“That’s not how I remember Pops,” Griffin argued.
“He cleaned himself up,” she said with a nod. “But back then, it was bad.” She smiled at him. “It’s why I’m so proud of how you’ve taken Cole under your wing. I wish I’d had someone like you in my life.”
“You had Dad.”
Her smile turned wistful. “Yes, I suppose I did, but it cost both of us. I’d been in love with someone else when I first met your father. The relationship didn’t work out.”
She looked so sad as she spoke the words. Outrage flared in Griffin at the thought that someone had hurt his mother. “Why?”
“It was complicated,” she said, laughing softly. “I started dating your dad right after we broke up. Things progressed quickly.” She shook her head. “I was on the rebound and we both knew it. He didn’t care because we were having fun. Then I got pregnant.”
“Did Dad think I wasn’t his?” Griffin asked, his mouth dry.
“No, but I’m not sure we would have lasted without a reason to get married. Your father and Trevor had a lot in common. He had big dreams. Staying in Stonecreek wasn’t part of his master plan, but with a wife and a baby... I didn’t leave him with a lot of options.”
“He shouldn’t have blamed you,” Griffin argued. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to get pregnant.”
Her gaze, which had always been the steadiest thing in his world, faltered. “I wanted a baby,” she whispered. “I wanted something that belonged to me. Someone who couldn’t leave me. Like I said, I was young and selfish, not thinking beyond what would make me happy.” She looked up, her eyes bright with another round of tears. “You made me so happy.”
“Dad didn’t feel the same way.”
Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “It all worked out. He inherited the farm and planted the vines. Actually, he had you and me to thank for that.”
“How do you figure?”
“Your dad had saved enough money when I met him to go backpacking through Europe before he started college in the fall. He dropped out of school to get a job when I got pregnant and used the money for a down payment on the first house we bought. But when his dad died, we sold that house and moved here. I insisted he take the money and go to Europe. He came up with the idea for converting the farm to a vineyard in Italy.”
Griffin laughed without humor. “Did he ever thank you for that? Because I don’t remember his gratitude.”
“It was there.” Jana sighed. “He loved you in his own way.”
“Just not the same way he loved Trevor,” Griffin said, embarrassed that even as a grown man he still felt the lack of it.
“He’d be proud of who you’ve become.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Griffin said, although he wasn’t convinced. At least he understood where his dad’s animosity had come from, although the reason behind it was bogus.
She hugged him again. “Maybe you should ask Maggie to the gala.”
“I wasn’t planning on—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” she said, squeezing his arms as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re going. You’ll wear a tux. You’ll dance and make nice with people. And you’ll like it.”
“I won’t like it.”
“Fine. You don’t have to like it, but it would mean a lot to me if you attended.”
“Fine,” he agreed. “I’m glad you’re having fun with this, Mom. It suits you.”
“It does.” She winked. “Back to work now. We’re close, but the tasting room has to be perfect.”
“It will be.”
“I know,” she said as she walked away, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I trust you.”
The words made his heart lighten. Despite everything they’d been through—all the complications life had thrown at them—his mother had always believed in him. Maybe she had a point and he shouldn’t worry so much about complicated. There was the distinct possibility things were only as complicated as he made them to be in his mind.
One thing was simple to understand.
He hadn’t stopped wanting Maggie. It might be time to focus on that once again.
