“You have a lovely accent.” Ashley smiled warmly. “Do you live nearby?”
“Non, I’m from France. My fiancé lives here, though.” Claire arched an eyebrow. “I believe I spoke with a man on the phone, oui?” She walked toward the silk flower display and began flipping through the book of photos.
From her movements to her dainty nose, thin lips, and smooth pale skin, this woman oozed elegance and grace. In Ashley’s experience, brides like her were typically high maintenance with unrealistic expectations, but that didn’t fit with someone whose planning timetable was so short. Or Ashley hoped so, anyway. It would be challenging enough to pull together something small and simple, but if the woman desired a blowout bash, well … Ashley wasn’t going to sleep for the next six weeks.
Still, it would be worth it to finally own the business of her dreams.
She followed Claire to the display. “Yes, that was my boss, Kyle. He’s appointed me as the lead planner, and I’m very excited to make your dreams come true.”
Claire nodded, apparently satisfied.
They both turned as the bell chimed. Ashley’s eyes widened at the tall man with broad shoulders who entered.
Derek had finally come to see her.
She rushed toward him, trying to still her shaking hands. Oh man, he looked good, better than she remembered. His brown hair was swept back in an Elvis cut, and his skin had bronzed, probably from so much time in the French vineyards. He’d grown a beard, and though Ashley wasn’t normally one for facial hair, it suited him.
“Hi. It’s so good to see you.” She lowered her voice. “I’m with a client right now, but I’d love to catch up. Can I meet you for coffee in about an hour?”
Derek stared at Ashley as if he’d never seen her before, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ashley? What are you doing here?”
As if he’d slapped her, she took a step back. “What do you m—”
“Derek? Do you two know each other?”
Ashley froze. Her eyes moved from Derek to Claire, blinking rapidly. Understanding dawned as Claire joined them, each click of her heels on tile punctuating the truth.
Derek wasn’t here to see Ashley.
Well, he was. Just not in the way she’d dreamed about.
“You’re …” She cleared her throat. “You’re the groom?”
He averted his eyes, swinging his head toward Claire, who smiled at him. “I am.”
No. No, no, no.
Ashley forced a smile. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” Then she turned and bolted toward the back as gracefully as she could.
Kyle would have to take this wedding. She couldn’t do it.
Reaching for the doorknob, she twisted it, but her hand was too slick with sweat to get it the first time. Finally, she managed to open the door.
Kyle didn’t glance up from the bridal magazine he was reading. “Did our experiment fail already?” He licked his finger and turned the page.
Ashley grimaced. What was she doing in here? She couldn’t give up her dream opportunity. Not over a guy who hadn’t bothered to call one of his supposed best friends more than once after he’d gone overseas fourteen months ago.
Over someone who had gotten engaged and hadn’t bothered to let her know.
“Not at all.” Her gaze tumbled over Kyle’s desk until she caught sight of a random checklist. Ashley swooped in and grabbed it. “Just needed this.”
Without waiting to gauge Kyle’s reaction, she left the office as quickly as she’d come in.
Before she entered the showroom again, she stopped and took a deep breath. Yeah, this was going to be awkward, but she could do it. She’d likely be working mostly with Claire anyway, and she’d just try to forget that Derek was the groom.
Try to forget how, despite his distance and the way he’d acted like their friendship—like she—meant nothing to him, Ashley Baker was still in love with him.
Oh boy.
She steeled her spine and walked into the room. “All right, ya’ll, let’s get this wedding planned!”
Things were much worse than he’d thought.
Derek Campbell leaned forward in the wooden Adirondack chair on his family home’s multilevel deck. “What time does Jorge get in on Monday? I’ve got some ideas I’d like to discuss about the day-to-day operations.”
“Let’s talk about that later. You just got home, and I want to get to know your lovely fiancée better.” His father’s hand shook slightly as he lifted a glass of Campbell Wines’ 2017 Syrah to his lips and sipped. The fifty-eight-year-old had thinned considerably since Derek had left for France, and the yellow ringing his eyes was undeniable proof that his stage 4 kidney disease had fought hard in Derek’s absence.
Beside Dad, Derek’s stepmother, Nancy, watched him with pinched lips. She was worried about something and trying not to show it. From what Derek had seen in the last twenty-four hours, she had every right to be concerned on multiple fronts.
But Derek was here now, and he was going to fix this. For all of them.
Dad turned toward Claire, who sat in a chair next to Derek, sipping her glass of 2019 rosé as she looked out across the expansive vineyard before them. From here, he could hardly make out the light from the row of rental cabins to the east, one of which he was calling home for the time being. The others had been out of commission for a few years. “Now that you’ve had a chance to see our little town and home, what do you think? How does it compare with yours?”
The evening sun was on the cusp of setting behind them, spilling gold and orange across the rows and rows of grapes. Even though they were only five miles outside of Walker Beach, the vineyard felt like another world, tucked away against the foothills and trees that lined one side of the town.
Most would say nothing compared to the lush green of the Loire Valley in France, but this … this was home. And Derek would do anything necessary to protect it. For all of them, but mostly for Dad. This place meant everything to him.
Claire twiddled her thumb against the rim of her glass. “It is much the same, except everyone here speaks English, of course.”
Nancy crossed her legs and tilted her head. “Now, Claire, forgive me for saying so, but you don’t strike me as a small-town girl—not unless all French women are as poised and well styled as you.” Nancy herself stuck to mostly jeans and flannel, and she lacked the same charm he admired in Claire, but she was nice enough. She’d made his dad happy for the last five years, anyway, and they seemed to love each other.
For now. Hopefully she wouldn’t leave when things got even rougher, though Derek wouldn’t be all that surprised if she did.
From what Derek had seen, love was a fickle mistress.
Claire smoothed the front of her skirt and smiled. “Non, we are as varied as you Americans. But I did grow up in the city.”
“Oh?” Dad wheezed, and held up a hand toward Nancy before she could ask if he was okay. The episode passed, and they all breathed better. He continued. “Then how did you two meet?”
Claire eyed Derek. If she were worried that Derek hadn’t told his family much about her—okay, nothing actually, other than the fact he was engaged and bringing his fiancée home for a bit—she didn’t show it. “My grandfather owns the vineyard where Derek interned. I lived with my mother in Paris as a child and visited the vineyard every summer. Fell in love with it immediately. It is a part of me. I believe you understand this.” She tilted a smile at Dad.
He grinned back. “I do indeed.”
“Oui. A few years ago, I decided to work for my grandfather full time. He is getting older, having some memory issues. While he would not admit it, he needed my help. And I was glad to give it, to gain the chance to learn more about the operational side of the business. You see, I’m set to inherit the vineyard when …” Claire placed her wineglass on the low wooden table that separated her and Derek from his dad and Nancy, then casually sneaked her hand inside of Derek’s. “Well, eventually.”
“And
that’s how we met.” Derek checked his watch. They had a lot to discuss, and today had been a waste of time.
Okay, waste was probably too strong of a word, given that he’d been able to catch up with his sisters, niece, dad, and stepmom. But other than his and Claire’s appointment to start planning their wedding this afternoon, nothing they’d done had moved him any closer to his goal.
And it was questionable whether the appointment had really done so. He’d hardly heard a word of it—not when he’d seen her again.
Ashley Baker had always been a knockout, but today she’d been positively radiant in her tight jeans, a red shirt that brought out the blue in her eyes, and that blonde hair hanging to her trim waist. But the way his breath had caught at the sight of her had nothing to do with her looks.
Okay, maybe not nothing. But it was much more driven by the very real reminder of the way she’d splayed open his heart with her rejection all those months ago.
Still, despite the memories, Derek had to stay focused on the reason he’d returned to Walker Beach in the first place. And even if it were a bit uncomfortable, he would work with Ashley and Claire to get a nice wedding planned. Claire deserved that and more.
He fixed his gaze on Dad again, who looked ready to bend in half and take a snooze. “So … Jorge?”
Nancy gave Dad that look once more, patted his arm, and stood. “Claire, you look as tired as I feel. Would you like to head inside with me?”
Claire squeezed Derek’s hand. “Of course.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the scent of her vanilla perfume enveloping him, then followed Nancy into the two-story house.
He turned. “Is everything all right, Dad?”
His father set aside his glass and stood, nearly toppling over at the movement.
Derek jumped forward to help him, but Dad swatted his hand away. “I’m fine, son.” Picking up his cane, he pointed it toward the field. “Let’s walk and talk.”
Jack Campbell was a stubborn man, and Derek had always admired him for it. But right now, with his health clearly failing, Derek couldn’t help but wish his father had a little less bull and a little more sheep in him.
They made their way down the wooden deck steps and onto the dirt and soil. With his dad next to him, they made slow progress. Derek examined the nearest plant, finding tiny green buds and miniature grape leaves sprouting along the vine. Their shoots grew upward as their workers had been instructed to prune any down-facing shoots. This practice reduced the number of overall grapes they’d get, but that didn’t worry Derek. Any viticulturist worth his salt knew that allowing the vine to focus on fewer grapes led to a more concentrated product, and he’d much rather have quality over quantity.
“How are the vines doing as a whole this year?” They’d talked about business here and there while he was overseas, but Dad had always seemed to change the subject somehow.
Now, he remained quiet for a few long moments, his lips quirked to one side. “We lost some in the eastern quadrant to disease last month.”
That stopped Derek in his tracks. “How did Jorge let that happen?” The vineyard manager should have had his people checking the plants religiously every week. There was no excuse for that. “What are we paying him for?”
“We’re not.”
“Come again?”
His dad sighed and leaned heavily on his cane. “I had to let him go four months ago.”
“What?” Derek couldn’t help the bite in his tone. “Why?”
“You know I purchased new equipment a few years back. Then I was in the hospital for a short spell last year. The bills started adding up. I had to make a tough call.”
And Derek’s sisters hadn’t told him? He was going to be having a very frank discussion with them both, and soon. “I would have come home.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Your purpose in going to France was to learn new ways of doing things, to bring our vineyard up to snuff, make us more competitive.”
“But that will only work if the vineyard is still around long enough for me to implement what I’ve learned.” Derek dragged his hands through his hair. “What about that grant you received from the city of Walker Beach a few months ago?”
“It’s significant, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough, not since the hospital bills hit. Our insurance is only for catastrophic stuff.” Dad looked out across the field, quiet. He’d once been the strongest man Derek knew, someone who ruled his house and business with wisdom and kindness, but also an iron will. Now look at him.
His gut twisted. “Did you look into a business loan?”
The sad smile on Dad’s face let Derek know his father was one step ahead of him. “Banks won’t lend to people who are in debt as far as I am.”
Thank goodness Derek had a solution to all of this, then. He only wished he’d been able to spare his dad for the last four months. It must have been difficult to let Jorge go, to hire someone less proficient. The man had been at Campbell Wines for nearly twenty-five years.
“So who’s been doing Jorge’s job then?” Both his sisters worked at the winery—Christina as its marketing manager and Heather as the wine shop manager—but neither of them had much experience in the field. That had always been Derek’s expertise. From an early age, he’d been groomed to take over the family business, just like five generations of Campbell men before him. “Did you hire someone externally or promote Greg?”
“Neither.” Dad started walking again, the clatter of his cane softened by the dirt. “I’ve been doing it.”
Biting back a groan, Derek took two steps and caught up with his father. “No offense, Dad, but your health—”
“I’ve done what was needed, son. But I must confess, I’m glad to have you home.” He turned toward Derek, and even in the fading light, his eyes looked tired.
Derek’s throat clogged, and he swallowed hard. “I’m glad to be home.”
Considering they’d only been engaged for such a short time, he and Claire hadn’t had time to discuss where they would live once they were married. Upon their marriage, she’d inherit her grandfather’s vineyard. And when Derek’s dad passed … but his last prognosis had been ten years so long as the disease didn’t progress into stage 5.
And who knew? He might get high enough on the transplant list that Derek wouldn’t have to worry about splitting his time between here and France for a long, long time. He prayed that was the case.
But first, Derek had to save the vineyard or it would all be a moot point.
“And your fiancée seems to be a lovely person. Beautiful too.”
“She is.” When he’d arrived at Chateau de Boivin, Derek had been determined to keep his ear to the ground and learn all he could about different ways to run a vineyard—and do all he could to forget the raw ache of leaving home.
Of leaving her.
But Ashley hadn’t loved him the way he’d loved her, plain and simple. And so he’d done what he needed to move on—flown over five thousand miles around the world.
He hadn’t expected to find a companion in Claire.
“How long have you two been an item?”
“I don’t know.” Derek kicked a rock, and it skidded under the row of plants beside him. “It came on gradually, I guess.” During the long days and nights working together, they’d formed a friendship, bonding as they both nursed wounded hearts—though Claire’s grief had been much more serious thanks to a broken engagement in her past.
Mutual respect had grown between them, as slow as new shoots on a grapevine. It hadn’t even been until a few weeks ago that he’d kissed her in the barrel room. The kiss had been nice, comfortable. Nothing earth rocking, but his world had been rocked once before, and he wasn’t anxious to repeat the sensation.
And then last week, when facing his return to the States, she’d suggested that they create a permanent partnership—a way for them to both help their families. And just like that, the solution to the Campbells’ problems had lain at Derek’s fingert
ips.
“It’s uh … all rather quick, though, isn’t it, son?” His dad’s cough returned.
Derek waited until Dad stopped wheezing. “I guess so. But when you know something’s right, you just know.” And this marriage, while unconventional to some, had right written all over it. He reversed directions and started back toward the house, his dad following without protest.
“But six weeks? Why the rush?” A spring breeze rustled through the vineyard, and the house came into view once more.
“We’re just ready to get married.” Dad didn’t need to know the particulars. He’d never want Derek to get married to save the vineyard, would want him to be in love. But love couldn’t be counted on to last. However, a marriage based on respect, honesty, and mutual benefit—that was something he could get behind.
And thankfully, Claire agreed.
“I would have figured you’d get married in France.”
Derek would have considered it, but the whole reason he’d come home from his internship early was because Heather had mentioned Dad’s deteriorating health during one of his calls home. And in that moment, he knew they needed him—that it was up to him to fix this, just like he’d kept the vineyard going after Mom had left so long ago. “I wanted you to be at the wedding.”
His dad huffed. “I can still travel, son. I’m not bedridden.”
“But it would be hard for you. No sense in pretending otherwise. It just makes sense to do it here.”
“Hmm.” The lights of the house appeared on the horizon. “Forgive me for prying, but I always thought your heart tended in a different direction.”
He and the whole rest of Walker Beach, apparently. How many times had his buddies ribbed Derek about proclaiming his undying devotion for the woman who’d once upon a time just been his best friend Ben’s kid sister—until she wasn’t? In fact, the only friend other than Ashley who hadn’t seemed to catch on was Ben himself, and Derek hadn’t been eager to enlighten him.
“Maybe it did once. But not anymore.” It was better this way. Because hearts couldn’t be trusted.
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