Fortune On Moon Lake (Love On The Lake Book 2)

by Amy Gamet

  Melanie grabbed a diet soda out of the fridge and sat down with her mother. “That came out wrong. I like living here with you.”

  “I know you do. You always take care of everyone else and never take care of yourself. Plus, it gives you the perfect excuse to avoid making a life of your own.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Sure it is.” Her mother dropped her eyes. “It started when your father got sick. I should have stopped it then, but it was so easy to take your help, especially with the bakery.” She shook her head. “Then Greg was gone, and you were here, and I just kept taking.”

  Melanie gave her mom a hug. “It’s not taking if it’s family.”

  Her mom squeezed her tightly and released her. “Who’s the present from?”

  Melanie smiled, picking up the package and fingering its shiny paper. Just a few days in Rafael’s company was already changing her world, making her feel things she thought she was incapable of feeling anymore. “This is from Rafael, the vineyard manager at work.”

  Her mom’s face lit up. “Do you like him?”

  She nodded. “I do.” She unwrapped the package. “He was at the Grill tonight. He must have left this here before went there.”

  Inside the box, a perfect crescent moon twinkled on a gold chain.

  Crescent Moon Vineyards.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful,” said Melanie, taking the necklace out of the box and fastening it around her neck. Rafael had planned to tell her who he was, even before she asked him, and a secret smile slipped across her lips.

  Chapter 6

  Melanie had the following day off, which left Rafael nothing to do but think about her while he worked. In a way, it felt good for work to just be work again, instead of constantly wondering where she was and what she was doing.

  Besides, he needed to talk to Peter about which wine competitions they planned to enter this year, a topic they’d briefly discussed last week. He knocked on Peter’s office door, but no one answered.

  “Peter?” Rafael called in the winery, his voice echoing off the cinderblock walls and concrete floor. He turned and knocked again. This time, Peter opened the door.

  “What’s up?”

  “What, were you sleeping?” Rafael joked, suddenly realizing that Peter did in fact look like he’d just woken up.

  “Funny. What do you need?”

  “The preliminary list of wine competitions for this year.”

  “You never asked me to do that.”

  Rafael tilted his head. “Sure I did. Last week, when we sat down to talk about the new bottling machine you wanted me to order.”

  Peter stared at Rafael like a man gazing down the train tracks, waiting for the engine to come. “Right.”

  “Do you remember?”

  “Of course. I just haven’t had a chance to get to it yet.”

  “When do you think you’ll have it?”

  “Well, if I use last year’s list as a starting point, I can have something to you this afternoon.”

  Rafael shifted his weight. “Remember, we said we wanted to focus more on our sweet wines this year to balance out our awards.”

  Peter closed his eyes. “Okay. Fine. I’ll work on it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Peter closed his office door, and Rafael stared at it for several seconds before checking his watch. His stomach curled. It was time to get this show on the road. He climbed in his truck and drove back down the hill, walking into the tasting room. Doris was wiping down the counter. “What are you up to today?” she asked.

  “I’m meeting Edward in a few minutes.”

  She nodded. “I’m almost finished here, then I’ll get out of your way.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “Hard to believe he and Bonnie are selling this place. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “I know.” Rafael picked up a bottle of reserve chardonnay and touched the label. He knew the wine tasted of spiced pear, elegant with a complex finish. It had won several awards and deserved every one.

  Peter was a genius. There was no denying that.

  With his winemaking ability and Rafael’s plans to take sales to the next level, there’d be no stopping Crescent Moon in the future.

  Not that it matters, unless I can find the money.

  He put the bottle back down.

  Doris shot him a knowing look. “Want to talk about it?”

  “There isn’t much to say. I want to buy the vineyard, and I need to find the money. You have a few million dollars to throw in the pot?”

  She smiled. “If I had it, sweetie, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

  “I know you would.”

  He stared into the distance as Doris finished cleaning up, a nervous energy in his shoulders. If this talk with Edward went well, he’d be able to buy the vineyard. But if it didn’t, he’d have to find an alternate funding source, and he wasn’t overly optimistic about Edward coming through.

  There was the bank, though Rafael was worried his lack of formal education would hurt his chances there. And there were several investment firms in nearby Syracuse, but a little internet research showed most of them only partnered with startup businesses.

  No, the only person Rafael knew who had the kind of money it would take to buy Crescent Moon was the same man who wanted to sell it, and the idea of convincing Edward to back him as a silent partner had sweat breaking out on Rafael’s palms.

  The bell over the door rang and Rafael turned around.

  “Evening.” Edward hung up his coat.

  Doris scuttled out from behind the bar. “Hello there, Mr. Trainor.” She turned to Rafael. “Just lock up when you go.”

  “Will do.”

  Edward came and sat down beside Rafael. “What can I do for you?”

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thanks. You said you had business to discuss with me.”

  Rafael nodded. It was just like Edward to get right to the point. “I want to buy Crescent Moon.”

  “Bonnie thought you might.”

  “I need an investor, a silent partner.” He took a breath. “I’d like you to be that partner.”

  Edward chuckled. “I’m looking to get out of the wine business, not into it.”

  “Yes, but you’re a businessman. This is an opportunity. I have plans for Crescent Moon that will increase profits by thirty percent within three years.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “Expanded distribution. By partnering with other local wineries, we can decrease the costs associated with selling overseas to a point that will make it highly profitable to do so. We can ship a container at a time instead of piecemeal, which lowers the freight charges by more than half.”

  Rafael had been thinking about this for years, but it wasn’t until he was talking to one of the vineyard owners at the Grill that he figured out how to make it happen.

  “What makes you think they’d be interested in a partnership?”

  “I asked them. Owl and Hawk is on board. So is Trudeau. The popularity of American wines is exploding in Europe. What we have is an entirely different product than they can create there, and the demand is already in place.”

  “Rafael, I’m sorry, but I’m not your man. I enjoyed playing with the plants for a while, but the vineyard was Charlie’s baby, not mine. There’s only so much of another man’s baby I can take.”

  Rafael frowned at Edward’s choice of words. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Bonnie doesn’t seem quite as eager to let it go.”

  Edward was silent for a moment. “My wife wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do.”

  “She loves you very much, and love has a way of changing people’s priorities.”

  “On second thought, I will take a drink.” Edward got up and walked behind the bar, helping himself to a fifty-dollar bottle of tawny port and taking out two glasses. He poured, and passed one to Rafael. “You and I don’t know each other very well.”

  “N
o, sir. We don’t.” After an initial interest in the winery operations, Edward had retreated completely from this part of Bonnie’s life.

  “I’m not the same man I used to be, always looking to turn a fast buck, dumping my money into any high-stakes game I thought would earn a payout.” He sipped his wine. “I sold my company when I had a heart attack a few years back, then the cancer came. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days chained to some moneymaking operation I don’t even like. I’m a wealthy man, Rafael. I don’t need it. Do you understand?”

  Rafael tasted the port, its richness swirling around on his tongue. He understood more about Edward than he suspected the other man realized. “You’re saying we’re not the same.”

  “Exactly. I see what you’re doing, poor boy makes good, and I applaud that. But I’m not in the business of lifting people up. That’s what bootstraps are for, son. If you want a handout, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

  “Not a handout. An investment.”

  “Six of one, half-dozen of the other. Doesn’t make a bit of difference what you want to call it.” Edward walked out from behind the bar.

  Rafael gritted his teeth. “Do you think she’ll resent it when she’s halfway around the world, away from her daughter, and she realizes she gave up everything she cares about for you?”

  Footsteps behind his chair, then Edward was there, just inches from Rafael’s face. “I suggest you take a step back, boy. It isn’t your place to go commenting on my personal decisions.”

  “If you love her, you’ll consider what will truly make her happy.”

  Edward threw back the rest of his drink and set the glass on the bar. “It’s a bad deal, Rafael. For me, or for anyone who’s business-minded.”

  Rafael raised his chin.

  Edward turned on his heel. “Goodnight.”

  * * *

  Melanie was washing the dinner dishes when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she called, even though she knew her mother was watching Jeopardy and the President of the United States would have to come to the door before she’d turn it off.

  Rafael stood on the front porch, his hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

  She brushed her hair away from her face. “Hey yourself.” Stepping outside, she closed the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I missed you today. Did you enjoy your day off?”

  “Yes. Is everything okay?”

  “I had a meeting with Edward that didn’t go very well, and an equally bad one with Peter.”

  She moved to the stairs and sat down, gesturing for him to do the same. “What happened?”

  “Edward turned me down for financing the vineyard, which I expected, even though I was hoping I was wrong.”

  “And Peter?”

  “I think he was sleeping in his office. And he forgot an entire conversation we had the other day.”

  “That’s strange.”

  “I know. Something’s going on with him, and I can’t seem to put my finger on what it could be.”

  She reached out and took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

  “Thanks. What about you? What did you do today?”

  “Glamorous things, like laundry and cleaning the bathroom.”

  “Ooh, that sounds sexy.”

  She laughed. “You should see me vacuum out the car.”

  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Don’t tease me.” Melanie rested her head on his shoulder, and he sighed. “I was thinking maybe we could neck on your mother’s couch.”

  “She’s sitting on it, watching Jeopardy.”

  “Then maybe we could make out on your porch.”

  “You’re not supposed to say it, you’re just supposed to…”

  He bent his head and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her slowly at first, sampling the taste of her, noting the shape and feel of her lips, but she quickly got more insistent, twisting her upper body to move against his.

  He pushed her back against the porch floor.

  The porch light came on, and they both sat up quickly. The door opened. “There you are. Final Jeopardy’s on the TV.”

  “Thanks. Mom, this is Rafael Delacruz. Rafael, this is my mother, Barbara Addario.”

  Rafael stood up. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Addario.”

  Melanie’s mother scrutinized him. “We don’t usually have company at this time of night.”

  He clasped his hands together. “I really wanted to see your daughter.”

  “Hmm.” Her mother turned to Melanie. “Are you coming back in?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Her mom didn’t move.

  “I said, I’ll be right there.”

  This time, Barb went back inside, but kept the front door open behind her.

  “Why do I feel like I’m sixteen?” Rafael asked.

  “Sorry about that.”

  He reached out and took both her hands in his. “It’s okay. I should get going. I just wanted to say hello, and tell you I was thinking about you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re working tomorrow, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Shoot,” he said. “I have a meeting with Peter in the morning, then I go right to a meeting at the bank before lunch.”

  “Financing?”

  “Yeah.”

  She leaned in and kissed him once more. “Good luck. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  * * *

  It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but from the flush on Peter’s face Rafael could tell he’d already been drinking, and the realization made him sad. Whatever was going on with Peter these last couple of weeks was making him look like more and more of a liability to Crescent Moon, which was nothing short of an utter shame for such a talented man.

  “Sixty, forty,” Peter said. “I put up sixty percent of the capital, and I take over control.”

  Rafael wondered where Peter would get that kind of cash, but that wasn’t the crux of the issue. “You want me to work for you.”

  “The wine is first and foremost on the list of important things. It makes more sense for me to be in control, because the decisions I make support the quality of the winemaking.”

  Rafael leaned back in his chair and repeated himself. “You want me to work for you.”

  Peter leaned back, too. “You don’t have the money to buy this place on your own. Without me, the value of Crescent Moon falls considerably.”

  He was right, and Rafael knew it. There were other winemakers, for sure, but very few in this part of the country were as well known or as highly regarded as Peter. “Are you threatening me?” Rafael asked.

  Peter shrugged. “Not if we can come to terms.”

  “Your terms.”

  Peter poured a glass of wine, and Rafael’s eyes lingered on the liquid.

  “My terms are the wine’s terms,” said Peter. “It’s putting the quality of our product at the forefront of the vineyard’s mission.”

  Rafael rubbed his head. He and Peter disagreed on nearly every decision at the vineyard, from what varietals to plant to the best ways to market their products. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “How would it be different than what we’re doing now? We’d get to keep more of the profit. That’s the only thing that would change.”

  “You want total control, and I’m not willing to give it to you. If you don’t want to go fifty-fifty, any partnership between us is off the table.”

  Peter took a sip of his wine. “You’re trying to secure funding.”

  “Yes. I have a meeting at the bank in an hour.”

  “Funding you know full well I can’t qualify for since my ex-wife drove me into bankruptcy.” Peter shook his head. “I thought you and I would buy it together, but you never even considered it.”

  Rafael measured his words. “You’ve been drinking a lot.”

  “No more than normal.”

  That was clearly not the case, but Rafael deba
ted the value of arguing the point. “Can I give you a ride home?”

  Peter furrowed his brow. “I’ve got a full day of work lined up. I’m not going home now.”

  “Peter…”

  Peter shook his head and stood up, opening the door for Rafael to leave. “I don’t know what your problem is, but I meant what I said here today. If you buy Crescent Moon without me, I’m gone.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that. You’ve made this winery all that it is.” Even as he said the words, he knew without a doubt that it would come to that, it was the only possible outcome. The die had been cast when Bonnie offered the winery to Rafael alone, leaving the pieces of the old Crescent Moon to fall where they may.

  * * *

  Melanie held up the spatula like a weapon. “If you say one more word about grandchildren today, I’m going to take you out.”

  Her mother was dressed in a long skirt and blouse. “Is there coffee?”

  Melanie nodded, her eyes taking in her mother’s attire before returning to her pan of french toast. “Where are you going?”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “With…”

  “As you so eloquently used to tell me in your youth, none of your beeswax.”

  “You’re not going to a sperm bank, are you? Taking matters into your own hands?”

  “No, but it’s something I may think about in the future.”

  “You want syrup?”

  “Please.”

  Melanie slathered her mom’s french toast before passing her the plate, and her mother pointedly checked the clock. “You’re running late.”

  Melanie cracked an egg into a bowl. “I know. Do you need a ride?”

  “No. Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Did you get fired?”

  “No.”

  “Quit?”

  “Ma, I’m just running late. I couldn’t sleep last night, then I overslept this morning, that’s all. But I can give you a ride wherever you need to go.”

  Her mother raised one eyebrow. “Would I be right in assuming this has something to do with the man you were kissing on the front porch last night?”

  Melanie closed her eyes. “Yes.”