Autumn in the Vineyard (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel)

by Adair, Marina

  “Frankie no longer works for Baudouin Vineyards,” Gabe said, pinning Nate with a look that he couldn’t decipher.

  “What?” Nate felt everything slow to a nauseating stop. “There’s no way she’d quit.”

  “She didn’t quit. She was fired. I overheard Regan on the phone with Frankie earlier, which is why I came here,” Gabe said. “I guess Charles was so mad about Frankie helping with the Showdown that he fired her and kicked her out of the family business. According to Regan, Frankie is really upset. The old goat refuses to see or even speak to her.”

  Nate felt sick. For a girl who’d spent her life on the edge of the family unit looking in, kicking her out of the family business would have felt more like being kicked out of the family entirely.

  “How did we not know this?” Nate asked, then answered his own question. She didn’t want anyone to know.

  His stomach knotted at the memory of how she’d looked at him all big eyes and—Christ, now that he thought about it, she was begging him for an out. A way to salvage the relationship she’d worked so hard to create with her grandfather and still not let the town down.

  Instead of helping her, he stuck her square in the middle of the fight, a place that her family had resigned her to years ago. She knew that to make it an official vote, there had to be a member from each of the town’s founding families.

  So Frankie did what Frankie always does; she bucked up and took the brunt of the blow. Walked into that party, tight red dress and enough sex appeal to bring a man to his knees, and took her rightful seat. She had to have been scared to death, knowing that at any moment Charles could walk right in and cut her out of the family business once and for all.

  He could have ruined the entire fundraiser. Instead he ruined Frankie’s life.

  “What now?” Trey asked and all the guys looked to Nate.

  “We’ve got a hearing on Friday with Judge Pricket,” Nate said hating what he was about to say.

  He didn’t mind taking down Charles. But taking on Frankie, knowing what he did about her past and what this land must mean to her now, wasn’t something he wanted to do. Ever. But he also didn’t want to let his dad down. Or let his family down. They had a lot of money tied up in this deal, and Frankie would rally. She always did. Plus it was just a business deal, nothing personal, just business.

  “Frankie’s dad left her some money when he passed,” he began, knowing exactly how much she had inherited. “If she spent a million on the land, my guess is she’s close to broke.”

  “Which helps us how?” Trey asked. “She already owns the land.”

  “Yeah,” Nate said. “But Frankie doesn’t plan, she just jumps in. I am betting come Friday, when she realizes she only has half the land and adds up how much a new water tank and pump are going to cost, not to mention the irrigation the land needs, she’ll be open to an offer.”

  “You think she’ll sell?” Gabe asked.

  “It will be a slam dunk,” Nate said, feeling good about his plan. “What kind of logical person would turn down double profit in less than a week when their only option is to go broke?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Well, since it looks as though both parties are accounted for and those who aren’t will no doubt be caught up by lunch,” Judge Pricket said, peering over his glasses at the packed courthouse, “Let’s get started.”

  “We can’t start without Lucinda,” Nate’s nonna said, her shoes clapping against the marble floors as she waddled down the aisle, waving to just about everyone she passed.

  Judge Pricket looked at his watch and scowled. “I’ve got an urgent appointment in thirty minutes.”

  Based on the crisp white slacks, matching white polo, and custom carved mallet leaning against the wall behind the judge’s bench, Nate figured his “appointment” was at Meadowood, St. Helena’s premiere members-only club, and that “urgent” appointment was his weekly game of croquet with the mayor. One that had been going on since the man took the bench back when Eisenhower was in office. The judge was in his eighties now.

  “Well, you can’t let that poor child sit up there all by herself. Plus, Lucinda is on her way. She didn’t know about the hearing.” ChiChi shot a chiding look at Frankie, who rolled her eyes. “Or she would have rescheduled her mammogram appointment. She should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

  Dressed in some fancy pants suit, enough gold to fund the entire city for a year, and sculpted silver hair, Nate’s nonna slid behind the prosecution table, forcing him, all of his brothers, and his lawyer to scoot down to make room.

  Frankie, on the other hand, sat in the middle of the defense table, empty chairs on either side, wearing her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail, a pretty blue top and dark jeans—no holes today. Besides the biker boots and motorcycle helmet resting in front of her, she looked more sweet co-ed than smart-ass and—since the table practically swallowed her whole—almost fragile.

  Nate refused to acknowledge the small tug in his heart because he knew better. Knew that nothing about Frankie was fragile. She was tougher than most men and would probably skin his nuts for thinking any differently. But, goddamn, she looked so small behind that massive mahogany table. She didn’t even have a lawyer.

  She should have one. At least one. Nate had nine. Drew might be the only one present, but the other eight were diligently working on his family’s behalf. Making sure they not only kept their half of the land, but looking for loopholes that would screw Frankie out of hers.

  Nate watched her worry her lower lip and frowned. Where were her brothers?

  “I’m sorry,” Judge Pricket said to Frankie, not sorry at all. “But between talking to Patsy down at the planning department, Katie Baudouin at the bank, and both Saul and Glow Sorrento, I haven’t had time to use the facilities today, let alone enjoy a meal. This is also the third time I have had this cockamamy claim in my courtroom, so you understand that I am anxious to hear the evidence, make a ruling, and stop wasting more taxpayer dollars on something that should have been taken care of decades ago.”

  “Amen,” ChiChi chimed in, giving Nate a quick flick to the ear as though he were the reason that they were all here today, wasting taxpayer dollars.

  “It’s all right, your honor. I’m as frustrated as you are about coming here today,” Frankie said. Without looking back to see who was there, Frankie shrugged nonchalantly and, although he couldn’t for the life of him read the expression on her face, there was nothing nonchalant about how hard her throat was working. “Since this isn’t a family situation and I knew what I was getting into when I bought the land, I think I can handle this on my own.”

  “I’m glad we are on the same page, Miss Baudouin.” Judge Pricket lowered his glasses and studied her empty table. “I take it you are waiving your right to legal counsel?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Frankie said, standing. The judge let out a groan. “I figured this was a pretty straightforward case. I bought the land from Mrs. Sorrento, I talked to her last night and she has no intentions of reneging on the deal, and neither do I, so we are good.”

  “Well, since I’m the one who has reviewed all the material, who has been dealing with this land and your two families for over sixty years, and am appointed by the great state of California…” The judge picked up the case file in front of him, the one Gabe and his brothers had spent all night preparing with the help of their legal team, and tossed it aside. “Why don’t you take your seat and let me decide just how good we all are?”

  “Um, yes, your honor,” Frankie said. She didn’t look happy.

  Welcome to my world, Nate thought.

  “You purchased the northern part of Sorrento Ranch from Mrs. Sorrento on the fifth of September. Is this correct?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “And Nathaniel, you and your brothers purchased the south part of the property on the second of September from Saul Sorrento?”

  “Yes, sir. Although at the time we were under the impression we were acquiring
the entire twenty acres,” Nate said, hoping to get a little sympathy sent their way.

  “Yes, and at the time Saul thought he was selling his half of the property to Jackson Tanner, not DeLuca Wines,” Judge Pricket said, sounding like a disappointed principal more than a judge. “Maybe if you’d taken more time doing your homework instead of trying to buy the property under false pretenses, you would have noticed that the land had been split fifteen years ago.”

  “Yes, sir.” Nate felt thoroughly scolded.

  “You would have also noticed that instead of Saul’s inflated price of seven and a half million”—the entire courtroom went silent and Nate felt as though every eye were on him—“the other property was being offered at—”

  Pricket looked down at his notes and laughed. He freaking laughed and Nate sank even lower in his chair. “Frankie, did you really get that land for nine-hundred thousand dollars?”

  Frankie looked over her shoulder at Nate and blew him a kiss. “I did, Ed.” Since when were the judge and Frankie on a first name basis? “Well, nine-hundred thousand and my 1948 Indian Chief.”

  “It was in mint condition,” the judge said, as though throwing in a motorcycle evened things out. “And did you know you were purchasing just the ten acres?”

  “Yes,” she said all smiles and sunshine, which was Frankie shooting Nate the figurative finger. “Glow and I were both upfront about the entire transaction. She explained that Saul had split the land back in the nineties for their kids, but neither of them wanted it. So each received half in the divorce. Glow was under the impression Saul sold his share to a developer, not a DeLuca.”

  “Weren’t we all,” Pricket mumbled, shooting the prosecution table a similar glare.

  Gabe leaned in and whispered, “Can Pricket sink this deal?”

  Nate sure as hell hoped not. He’d tried to find out their legal standing. The money had already been wired to an escrow account, but since escrow hadn’t officially closed, his lawyers weren’t sure.

  “We’re fine,” he whispered back.

  “Really?” Trey leaned in. “Because this slam dunk hearing doesn’t seem so slam dunk anymore and that makes me nervous. You know what makes me even more nervous? That Frankie isn’t even breaking a sweat.”

  Nate looked over and Frankie was smiling up at the judge, not an ounce of worry on her pretty face.

  “I’ll fix this,” Nate whispered, then stood. “Your honor, if I may?”

  “No, son, you may not.” Judge Pricket’s bushy brows furrowed in annoyance. “I’ve been listening to your families gripe about this land my entire career.”

  “Yes, your honor,” Nate cut in, not wanting him to get any further. “And I’m sorry. But I don’t think the past has any relevance on today’s hearing. This sale has nothing to do with our grandparents’ feud. We are a new generation who would like the opportunity to make this right.”

  “I am glad to hear you say that, but it still doesn’t answer the problem about what to do with the house. The way Saul had the property line drawn, it goes right down the middle of the house. So I have a single residence dwelling with two owners. Not to mention the south property has access to the road and driveway, and the north property houses the well.”

  Yeah, Nate had noticed that too.

  Judge Pricket took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. After a long, tense moment, he looked out at the courtroom. “Legally I can and should take that sucker down, knock you both out of escrow and force the Sorrentos to put the land on the market with all parties aware of the facts.”

  “Wait.” Frankie stood. “Mrs. Sorrento would never agree to that. She is happy with the sale and so am I.”

  “Which is my problem, Miss Baudouin.” The judge’s expression softened. “Since you did your due diligence and Glow is adamant that escrow closes in a timely fashion, I have my hands tied. However, the house, which I believe you are living in, is still under my discretion. As for the other half of the property, Saul is open to other ideas.” His gaze narrowed on Nate’s table.

  “So I am giving you both thirty days to get in there and prove to me that you can make this work. Thirty days is plenty of time to come up with some unique ideas, and believe me, I’ve had sixty years to start my list.” He sent them both a stern smile. “One complaint, one bullet fired, one call to the sheriff, and the bulldozers come in and I get to go have a beer. Because at the end of your month, one way or another, this feud will no longer be my problem. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said in unison.

  “Good.” The judge stood and whacked his gavel. “Now get out of my courtroom so I can go play croquet.”

  “Can he do that?” Nate asked his lawyer when Pricket disappeared back into his chambers.

  “Can and would,” Drew said to the table. “My advice is to do whatever it takes to avoid Judge Pricket. Find a way to make it work with Miss Baudouin.”

  Nate looked over at Miss Baudouin, who oddly enough wasn’t celebrating her victory. She was staring at him, a million death threats shooting out of her pretty eyes, sharpening what appeared to be a pocket knife on the metal cap on her left boot.

  “Or make her an offer she can’t refuse.” Drew followed his gaze and laughed. “Just be sure she holsters the blade before you start negotiations.”

  “There is no way she’ll sell,” Nate said, eyes still on Frankie. “Not now. Not when she knows how much we spent on the land.” Not when she knows how much I want it.

  “You need the other ten acres to fulfill your contracts, right? And our research shows that she is desperately short of liquid assets. So stop thinking with this,” Drew patted his chest, “and start thinking up here. I’m sure that some kind of partnership between the two properties can be reached.”

  Nate laughed. “You obviously have no idea how Frankie works. She would never get involved with a DeLuca.”

  Nate knew that firsthand.

  As though sensing she was the topic of conversation, Frankie dropped her feet to the floor, and, after pocketing her knife, strode toward him with enough purpose and attitude to scare even the manliest of men.

  Nate leaned against the table, crossing his ankles, and smiled. “Hey, Francesca.”

  She stopped when they were toe to toe, her eyes narrowed into two irritated slits as she gave him a long onceover. He gave her an equally long assessment, taking in the way she smelled—freaking incredible—and how her blouse hugged her breasts. Breasts he had spent the past two days convincing himself couldn’t be as perfect as he’d imagined.

  They weren’t. They were even better. Almost as impressive as her backside, not that he could see it right now with her staring him down, but he remembered.

  When the tapping of her combat boots didn’t get her desired results, she cleared her throat, letting him know he was caught staring. He raised his eyes and—oh yeah—her baby blues lit up, her face softened and she smiled. And his brain glitched. Just like that. One smile and he was so gone.

  “Seven and a half million,” she said, still smiling, and he was smiling back. “What an idiot.”

  By the time her words set in, she was already shoving her way through the crowd, proving them both right: He was an idiot and her ass was as sweet as he remembered.

  “Good to see you too, Frankie,” Nate called out.

  “Bite me,” she said over her shoulder, flipping him the bird as she made her way toward the exit.

  “You’re right,” Drew laughed, clapping Nate on the back. “I don’t know how that woman works, but you obviously do. How long have you two been circling each other?”

  “Since high school,” Trey said, his eyes equally as glued to Frankie’s retreating backside as she pushed through the massive double doors. Nate elbowed him.

  “Maybe it’s time you let yourself get caught,” Drew suggested, packing up his briefcase.

  “Get caught?” Nate asked, dismayed. Not at the idea of Frankie’s more than capable hand on him because, sweet Jesus, tangli
ng with Frankie would be like skydiving, alligator wrestling, and silky, sweet curves all rolled into one. But because spending time with Frankie and not getting involved would be impossible.

  No, Nate and Frankie as anything more than bitter friends would be a mistake. And Nate didn’t do mistakes. Not ones that had the potential to blow up into a disaster of epic proportions.

  “All I am saying is that Pricket can be a hard ass and I don’t think he was joking. If you two can’t find a way to play nice then you will lose that property and I guarantee that Pricket will make it so no one in your family for the next hundred years will be able to get their hands on it.” Drew gave Nate a serious look. “You want that land? Maybe it’s time to change up the rules.”

  Frankie passed between the marble columns and down the front steps of town hall, which spanned the entire length of the building, heading toward the parking lot. A warm breeze blew past and the thin layer of maple leaves, so yellow that the town seemed tinted with the season, floated down Main Street, past each brick-faced storefront decorated with pumpkins, and under the festive banner advertising the upcoming harvest and Cork Crawl.

  Shifting her helmet, she stepped off the curb by her motorcycle and stopped, her stomach plummeting to her toes.

  Further down the two-lane street, exiting The Barrel Buyer—a specialty wine shoppe and tasting room—was her grandfather, briefcase in hand, scowl in place. He headed toward his sedan and was about to open the door when he looked up and spotted her.

  Frankie forced her lips into an unsure smile, one she’d given a thousand times as a kid, and waited for him to respond. She watched him take a breath, a small step off the curb, another tentative one closer, and everything inside of her stilled.

  It was stupid to think that Charles might have come to support her. Even stupider to hope he would tell her how proud he was of her for Red Steel Cellars, the wine she was making to target the collector’s market. Not after the way he’d reacted when he’d discovered Red Steel. But she had still hoped.