A young man greeted them at the counter. “I’m Ambrose McCallister the third. Welcome to the Tall Duck Winery. It’s been in our family since the 1850s when my great, great, great, oh, I forgot how many greats, grandfather bought one hundred and fifty acres.”
“Only the third?” James quipped. “What was your great, great, many times, grandfather’s name?”
“Argyle, used that name for three generations,” Ambrose said. “But I’m not going to continue that tradition. Who’s this little guy?”
“Bret, my grandson,” Andie’s father said with more than a little bit of pride.
Ambrose bent over little Bret and tickled his tummy. Bret laughed and squealed out loud, and the look on Andie’s father’s face was pure joy.
“So, what are you folks interested in today?” Ambrose said, standing to his full height. The man was rugged, in that backwoods kind of manner, but clean cut, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and well-aged blue jeans. “The tour includes tasting, but I can substitute some of our apple cider or sparkling grape juice.”
He grinned at Andie as he scanned her ring finger.
Oops. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring because her finger was swollen due to being almost nine months pregnant.
“I’m interested in your operations and of course, the historical aspect of your buildings,” Andie replied.
“Yes, we’re history buffs,” her father cut in. “Although I specialize in the ancient Near East, particularly the culture of pre-bronze age Greece, Minoa, Cyprus, and the Philistines in Israel.”
“Cool. As you know, wine was well loved even back then,” Ambrose said. “Okay, let’s start with the vines. You folks are in luck because the buds are breaking this week. We hope there won’t be any late snowstorms, because the sap is rising with the warmer temperatures and the vines will be damaged.”
“How was your harvest last year?” Andie pulled out a notebook.
“Unfortunately, a late storm and consecutive nights of frost wiped out our entire vintage.” Ambrose’s mouth turned down. “It’s one of the perils of growing grapes in the Finger Lakes region. My father had to mortgage our family home, the old Victorian farmhouse that’s on the historical registry.”
“Let’s hope this year brings plenty of sunshine,” Andie’s mother said, elbowing her.
Okay, so her parents were protective over the family-owned businesses in the area, but couldn’t it be said that an infusion of cash would be welcome?
The group wandered from the tasting room to the fields. Rows and rows of pruned vines spread from their trellises where little buds, like the fuzzy new antlers on a young deer, poked through the tough, wizened stems. The scent of fresh grass and damp earth held the promise of spring in the air.
Ambrose lovingly stroked the woody branch of the nearest vine. “No matter how many years I’ve seen this, bud break always fills me with awe. It’s new life, new hope, and a new promise.”
Again, he glanced with significance at Andie’s protruding belly.
Andie felt her throat thicken. She too, had a new life inside of her, but not just that, she had a new life with Cade. Shouldn’t she let hope overcome fear?
Quack, quack, quack. A flock of black ducks sprinted toward them, heads held high, and necks stretched to the sky.
“Oh, look,” Andie’s father said to Bret, propping him up so he could get a better view. “Tall ducks.”
Ambrose smiled and squatted to the ducks’ level. “Come here and show our friends how you keep the vines bug free.”
“Why are they so tall?” Andie’s mother asked.
“They’re Indian Runners.” Ambrose laughed, stroking one of the duck’s head. “They’re bred to eat snails, slugs, and insects among rows of crops. Obviously, our winery is named after them.”
“They’re so beautiful.” Andie took out her phone and put it in camera mode. The ducks were black, but glistened dark green when the sun hit their feathers at the right angle.
“A lot of people confuse them with Cayuga ducks,” Ambrose said. “We have some of those too. In fact, we have over two hundred ducks on the property. Swedish, Ancona, Khaki Campbell, Pekin, and quite a few hybrids. My mom’s a duck collector.”
He reached for Andie’s father’s wheelchair to help it over a rut. “Let’s check out the pond.”
A black and white sheep dog ambled up to them as they rounded an old barn, its paint faded, but well-repaired. Andie snapped a picture of the relic. Would Dinah Silver keep this barn the way it was, or would she modernize the entire operation and replace all the buildings?
“We even have a woodshed,” Ambrose said, as they walked by it. “And over there’s where my mother cures her hams.”
“So, this is more than a winery?” Andie’s father asked.
“It’s our family farm. The first Argyle McCallister planted the first vineyard of the region, but all operations stopped during Prohibition. My great-grandparents kept growing grapes during that time and improved our rootstocks. My grandfather taught winemaking at the university, and my dad went to business school and made this a full-fledged winery in the 1980s. Now, there are many wineries in the area, and we’ve been able to stay independent and family-owned, so far.”
Andie fiddled with her pen, as guilt slithered through her stomach. Maybe Dinah Silver would let the family stay on and operate their winery.
They stopped in front of the pond where flocks of ducks, black ones, white ones, spotted and speckled ones, milled around, either in the water, or preening their feathers on the bank.
“All that land is ours,” Ambrose said. “The forest beyond the pond, and part of that hill overlooking the lake. It’s a bit muddy and not part of the tour, but if you folks are interested in coming back, I can invite you to a picnic Saturday. Drive you up there on my tractor.”
Again, he grinned at Andie, but looked away when she acknowledged him. Somehow he reminded her of Cade, good looking, but a shy and boy-next-door type, not a city slicker like Ronaldo.
“That’s awfully kind of you,” Andie’s mother said. “But my daughter has to prepare for her wedding, and we have a million things to do.”
Ambrose rubbed his upper lip and nodded, his face turning a bright red. He cleared his throat. “Well then, let’s continue with the winery. I’ll show you the presses, which are empty right now, since we have no new grapes, and the entire pumping system. Everything in a winery has to do with pumping, taking the juice from the presses to the various tanks for fermentation, then barreling, you can imagine. Because of our busted crop last year, we haven’t replaced some of our aging pumps, so we’ve had to make do with less efficiency. The worst thing was letting some of our workers go, but the people we mortgaged the house to are picking up some of the slack.”
He seemed to be stumbling over his words. Okay, so he was attracted to Andie, even in her big as a boat condition, but Ambrose was hunky in his own rugged way. Maybe she could introduce Sylvia to him.
“Could you use another investor for the winery?” Andie recovered her wits as they wandered into the fermentation room where large, stainless steel tanks sat.
“My father’s against it,” Ambrose said. “Especially if it was a large corporation run by a bunch of suits. You should have seen the fight my mom had with my dad on accepting the mortgage money. He only relented because the lenders were plain folks who gave us cash and agreed to let my dad and I run the business without interference. No big news conference or any publicity. They’re staying in the background and working alongside us. Nice family, really.” His eyes swept her pregnant belly again as he swallowed, his ears turning red at her obvious family-condition.
“What about renting out some of your locations, like the hill above the lake, or the barn, or the farmhouse for events?” If she was going to be a businesswoman, she couldn’t let embarrassment keep her from asking the right questions.
“Like parties and such?” Ambrose crossed his arms and shook his head. “We tried that in the last r
ecession, but the liability insurance to cover the events almost drove us under.”
Andie put her notebook away. Gulp. She’d insulted him. She could see how self-sufficient and independent the family-owned farms and businesses could be. They didn’t want outside interference, even if outsiders could bring in new ideas and help them grow their business.
The rest of the tour was a blur with Ambrose going through the motions. He showed them oak barrels, expensive ones from France, explaining about how they only bought them from certain forests. He skipped the tour of the cellar, due to her father’s wheelchair, and finished in the tasting room.
The atmosphere was decidedly chillier than at the beginning of the tour, and Andie felt she’d made an enemy for even suggesting outside investors. It must have hurt their pride already to mortgage the family home. Fortunately, her parents kept small talk going, and when they all declined to taste any wine, her mother bought a souvenir cork puller.
A group of visitors waited near the entrance, full of giggling college women. Ambrose brightened visibly and bade Andie and her family goodbye.
As they ambled to the parking lot, her mother said, “Whatever you and Ronaldo are up to, it’s not welcome here in Itasca. The last thing we want is some Hollywood prince coming in here and commercializing everything, then leaving after the environment is destroyed.”
“Plenty of busted investments up this region,” James said.
“I know how you feel, but I’m not sure Ambrose or his family can stop progress.” Andie took Bret from her father’s arms as her mother helped James into the van. “From the way Tall Duck Winery looks, it won’t survive another year, much less a recession.”
Chapter 10
The wedding was less than a week away. Andie and her mother sat at the kitchen table, double-checking the list of invitations and responses. Because the wedding tent was small and they had a need for secrecy, she could only invite her aunts and uncles, and two girlfriends she went to college with.
“I always dreamed about a big, fancy wedding only because Dad named me Antoinette Marie and I thought it meant I’d have the largest and fanciest wedding cake,” Andie said as she checked off the responses. “But then, I think this is better. We don’t have to make small talk with people we barely know.”
“That’s so true.” Her mother poured her a cup of tea. “As it is, we have so much to do. Approving the reception menu at the Tall Duck, putting together a souvenir program with yours and Cade’s pictures. Of course, we still need to buy Bret his suit and tie, although, who knows? Maybe he should wear a robe of some sort. What did babies wear in ancient Israel?”
“Tiny robes, probably. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect.” Andie took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing, having this historical reenactment wedding? I can tell Cade’s not into it. He keeps saying ‘whatever makes you happy,’ which means he’s not happy about it.”
“What’s he unhappy about?” Andie’s father thumped his walker into the kitchen.
“Shoo!” her mother said. “We’re doing wedding stuff.”
Her father leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Yes, but this is a historical wedding. How many times does Princess Michal marry the young upstart shepherd boy who felled a giant?”
“It’s only a reenactment, Dad.” Andie squeezed his arm. “Maybe I should have married Cade at city hall with the two of you and Aunt Helen.”
“No, no, no, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You should go for what you want, unless he has serious misgivings,” James said. “I would have loved to have had a Temple of Doom wedding, but your mother here wasn’t going for it.”
“Not to mention the theme of our marriage would have been doomed.” Her mother got up and poured her father a cup of tea. “Cereal and yogurt okay?”
“Of course, sweetie. Whatever makes you happy,” he quipped. “That’s the husband’s go-to line.”
“He’d rather have eggs and pancakes is what he’s saying.”
“Sure, but if it makes you happy to serve me rubbery chicken, I’m happy too.” He beamed back at her, joking about last evening’s meal when her mother had been busy reviewing Andie’s baby pictures for the souvenir program.
“Please!” Andie crooned, feigning being tortured “Anything but rubbery chicken. Not that rubbery chicken again.”
James threw his head back and laughed. “Any husband who passes the rubbery chicken test is a keeper.”
“Remind me to try that on Cade,” Andie said. “But then again, any guy who passes the David Betrayed wedding test is certifiable.”
“Then Cade is both a keeper and certifiable,” Andie’s parents said at the same time, then high-fived each other.
“Geez, you guys, you’re turning into pod people.” Andie shook her head. “I just hope Cade and I will be like you two someday.”
“Pod people?” Her dad chuckled.
“I mean, look at you two.” Warm and cuddly emotions flooded Andie. Her parents were so at ease with each other, and the love between them was so real and natural, it made their home complete and secure. “I bet you two weren’t jittery before your wedding.”
Mom and Dad both stopped what they were doing and glanced at each other. Mom coughed and Dad cleared his throat.
“You want to tell her?” Dad passed the buck, as usual. “You’re so much better at this.”
“Actually, you and Andie have the special bond, both of you having historically analytical minds,” her mother said, smiling as she stirred milk into her tea.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” James protested. “Of course we had our disagreements.”
“Except you always won,” her mother said. “I didn’t put up much of a fight, and if it hadn’t been for the expense of the Temple of Doom wedding, like recreating the set, you would have forced it on me.”
“Forced it? At least I took your feelings into account and didn’t do the Children of the Corn theme. We did have a cornfield at the back of my parents’ house.”
“Wait, wait,” Andie cut in. “Children of the Corn was a horror movie. Seriously, Dad, you wanted that?”
“It would have been funny.”
“Not more than The Bride of Frankenstein,” her mother grumbled. “I put my foot down. No. Theme. Weddings.”
“But, if you can’t have a theme for your wedding, when can you?” James crossed his arms and pouted. “A theme funeral with Beetlejuice?”
“Oh, oh, or a baby shower for a devil child.” Andie clasped her hands over her belly. “Wasn’t Rosemary’s Baby famous back in your day?”
“Stop it. Stop!” Her mother covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “Why don’t you two go back to historical reenactments instead of horror movies?”
“Pammy, it’s okay,” her father said. “We were just joking. Of course I agreed to the small, normal wedding we had. I mean, it’s what made you happy.”
Andie twisted her fingers around each other and tried to calm her breathing. Face it, she was stressed out—drowning under the wedding planning and worried that baby Bonnie would make her grand entrance during the ceremony.
“You okay, Andie?” Her father rubbed her shoulder. “If you want a small, normal wedding, it’s still not too late to have it. The lady at the Tall Duck said we could use the farmhouse for both the wedding and the reception.”
“I’ve always wanted a wedding that’s different and unique, but Cade’s right. The wedding’s not the important thing, it’s the people and family.”
“And knowing you’re doing the right thing,” her mother added, taking her father’s hand and rubbing it. “Despite our differences in wedding preferences, we both knew we were right for each other.”
Her father smiled sheepishly and nodded. “That’s what’s most important.”
Andie hugged her father and then her mother joined in a group hug. The most important of all was love, and she had it in spades with her little family.
“I know I’m
doing the right thing in marrying Cade,” she announced. “Even though he never had the family we had, he’s the best thing to happen to me. I can see us someday like you two. We might have our disagreements, but we always have each other’s backs.”
“You’re okay with all the travel?” Her mother stepped back and touched her face. “The publicity and the celebrity status?"
“I’d love to stick to him like glue, but we’ll adjust. While the babies are young, we can go on the road with him, and by the time they go to school, Cade says it would be time for him to retire. He wants me to start a business he can join in later.”
“He does? That’s wonderful,” both her parents exclaimed in unison.
“He’s wonderful. He’s everything good to me.” Andie hugged her pregnant belly and rubbed it. “I’ve never been more sure of anything else.”
# # #
Cade knotted and reknotted his tie, following the instructions on the internet. Could Andie’s father tell the difference between a full Windsor and a half Windsor?
He checked his watch and blew a breath. He was due at Andie’s house in twenty minutes to take her father out for burgers and get his blessing for the marriage.
Dr. James Wales was an archaeologist and history buff who brought Andie to his digs even when she was a tiny tot. Father and daughter were very close, and they both loved to speculate about historical figures, as well as play with reenactments.
Besides, Cade could use some tips on how to keep Andie happy. After all, father knew best.
“You almost ready?” Andie’s image appeared in the dresser mirror, holding Bret. “Don’t be nervous, sweetie.”
“How can I not be nervous?” Cade rubbed his hands together. “I’m asking for your hand.”
“He’s not going to turn you down.” Andie patted her belly. “If I were you, I’d watch out for shotguns or javelins.”
“Yeah, I kind of screwed up there, not that Bonnie’s a screw up, but it should have been wedding first and baby shower later.”
“We haven’t had Bonnie’s shower yet. It could still work.”
Boxed Set: Intercepted by Love (The Complete Collection): Books One - Book Six Page 66