Vivian narrowed her eyes. “We’ll be second-rate.” Her chin trembled. “I’ll be second-rate. Just like my father always told me.”
Maggie’s chest ached at the pain in her grandmother’s tone.
“Mom, come in the house,” Jim urged gently. “Let’s talk about this. It can’t be as bad as you—”
“I have to go,” Vivian said with a sniff, unwilling to make eye contact with any of them. As if she was embarrassed about the tiny cracks of vulnerability in her steely tough-as-nails armor. “I have a meeting with Steve Brage from the zoning board. He owes me. Maggie, I’ll call you at the office tomorrow. This is town and family business. We need to make a plan.”
She stalked to her car, climbed in and drove away without a backward glance.
“That was intense,” Ben said, kicking at the grass.
“I’ve never seen Grammy like that,” Morgan added. “It’s almost like she was human for a few minutes.”
Their father shook his head. “Of course your grandmother is human.”
“Can we have our phones back now?” Ben asked, displaying the typical empathy and focus of a teenage boy.
“Sure,” Jim agreed and both Ben and Morgan took off for the house.
“I bet I missed more snaps than you,” Ben said to his sister.
“In your dreams,” Morgan shot back.
“You knew nothing about the plans at Harvest?” Maggie’s father asked when they were alone in the front yard.
She shook her head. “Did you know Grammy had that relationship with her dad?”
“No,” Jim admitted. “She’s always been a force of nature, but I thought it was just family pride. My grandparents died when I was a kid, and she seemed more interested in the Spencer legacy than my dad was. I never questioned why that was.”
“I need to talk to Griffin,” Maggie murmured almost more to herself than her father. “I can’t believe he wouldn’t have shared those plans with me.”
“It could be a game changer.” Her dad ran a hand through his hair. “Not that I think it’s as dramatic as your grandmother makes it out to be, but it will lessen the control she has over local businesses and she hates losing control.”
“I know,” Maggie agreed, then gave her dad a hug. “Coming home to this mess makes me even more grateful for today. Thanks, Dad.”
* * *
“What the hell is this about?”
Jana, Marcus and Trevor turned in unison as Griffin stormed into the conference room in the winery’s office early Monday morning.
“You’re late,” Trevor muttered. “As usual.”
Jana sent her younger son a withering look. “Sit down, Griffin. We’re just getting started.”
Griffin slammed the business section from The Portland Chronicle onto the oak table. “Is this a joke?” He jabbed a finger at the headline Stonecreek Winery Expands Empire. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
“None of us did,” Marcus said tightly, his mouth set in a thin line.
“Well, I did,” Trevor offered. “I wrote the press release, after all.”
“This is going to directly impact the Spencers’ business interests in town. You know how Vivian thinks. She’ll take it as a personal attack. Are you trying to start a war with them?”
Trevor snorted. “Don’t be a drama queen, Grif. This is business.”
“Bad business,” Griffin said, meeting his mother’s worried gaze. “This came as a shock to you?”
Her brow wrinkling, she looked away with a sigh. “Not completely. We’d discussed the possibility of building a venue on the property.” She held up one finger when Trevor opened his mouth to speak. “But nothing had been decided. The plan had been to meet with the Spencers and some of the other business owners in town to determine how we could complement what was already established downtown.”
“My opinion,” Marcus said, drumming his fingers against the table, “was that Harvest Vineyards should continue to focus on what we do best.” He leveled a stony look at Trevor. “Which is making wine.”
“This is about expanding the brand,” Trevor argued. “And in the end, selling more wine. It’s a win for all of us.” He glanced at Griffin. “Except maybe those of us needing to suck up to Vivian Spencer.”
“I’m not sucking up to anyone,” Griffin said through clenched teeth. He paced to the far side of the room where a window framed a view of the rows of vines below. “Stonecreek is a small town and—”
“Yeah,” Trevor interrupted. “We live here, Grif. None of the rest of us has the luxury of just dropping in when it suits our fancy.”
“No one forced you to come back here after college.” Griffin whirled around. “You made that choice all on your own.”
Trevor lifted one brow. “Did I?”
Their mother rose from her chair. “Stop arguing. Both of you.” She inclined her head toward Griffin. “Your brother is well aware of the vineyard’s place in this community.” Her gaze switched to Trevor. “You should also be aware that although you have quite a bit of autonomy in leading the marketing and branding efforts for Harvest, this is not a dictatorship. I remain sole owner of the business and Marcus is CEO.”
“For now,” Marcus murmured.
Griffin felt his mouth drop open at those two words. Trevor looked equally stunned, but their mother only sighed.
“Please sit down, Griffin. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Are you leaving Harvest?” Trevor asked Marcus.
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Jana said in the tone she’d relied on when the boys were young to put a quick end to any back talk. “Sit, Griffin.”
He dropped into a seat like a puppy following the command of his human in obedience class.
His mom reached across the table and pulled the newspaper toward her. “Trevor, the next time you create a press release for the vineyard, send it through me first.”
“Mom, come on. I’m not a kid.”
She lifted her gaze and stared icily at him. “Then don’t act like one. We’d talked about an event center that would enhance what was already available in town, not compete with it.”
“I’m sick of kowtowing to the Spencers,” Trevor complained. “I understood the reasoning while I was dating Maggie, but there’s no connection to them now.”
Trevor threw a glance toward Griffin, as if daring him to speak. Clearly, Trevor’s moment of wanting Maggie to be happy had passed like a fleeting sunset.
“We have a connection,” Jana said before Griffin could respond. “This town is our connection. Our history is the connection. I won’t have you using the vineyard as a way to work out personal vendettas.”
“I’m not doing that,” Trevor insisted. “It’s good business.”
“Not your call to make,” Jana said simply. “As Marcus alluded to, he’s decided to step back from some of his responsibilities at Harvest. He’s agreed to stay on in a consulting role but as of the first of the year, he’ll no longer be our CEO.”
“Why?” Griffin demanded. “You love this place.”
“I do,” Marcus agreed. “But now I have something in my life I love more. I want time to devote to Brenna and Ellie.”
Griffin shook his head. “How can it be that serious? You just started dating her a few months ago.”
“I let my professional aspirations derail my personal life once before.” Marcus sat back in his chair, leveling an almost challenging look toward Griffin. “I’m smarter than that now.”
“Who gets the job?” Trevor asked, leaning forward.
“That’s what we’re here to discuss,” Jana said, her voice giving away nothing. “You can see why your premature announcement comes at a difficult time, Trevor.”
“That doesn’t change anything.” Trevor crossed his arms over his chest. “I should be the next CEO, of course.”
“You’ve done so much for the brand,” Jana agreed, “but whoever takes over needs to be able to juggle the various facets of the business.”
“I can do that,” Trevor told her.
“But do you truly want to?” Jana asked. “Is Harvest in your heart?”
Griffin’s chest constricted at her words. Despite Marcus’s encouragement, he hadn’t really believed he had a place at the vineyard. Not after everything that had happened with his father and how he’d reacted. It was difficult to believe anyone would give him a chance to prove he deserved a place in the family business. But the vines were in his heart. He knew that without a doubt.
He glanced at his brother, surprised to see color tingeing Trevor’s cheeks as he stared at his mother, hands clenched into tight fists on top of the table. “How can you ask me that?” he demanded. “I’ve made this place my life. I came back to Stonecreek, the way Dad expected. I gave up everything for him.”
“I know, sweetie,” Jana said gently. “Everyone knows.”
Wait. What? Griffin didn’t know. He could feel the undercurrent of tension at the table but had no idea where it came from. Trevor had everything Griffin had ever wanted—especially their late father’s love and approval. What was his damn problem?
He met his brother’s icy glare across the table. It felt as if Trevor blamed Griffin for whatever was going south right now. Impossible because Griffin hadn’t been a part of any of it.
“I earned my shot,” Trevor said, enunciating each word, launching them like rockets toward each person in the room. Before anyone could respond, he pushed back his chair and stalked away, slamming the door behind them.
Griffin looked between his mother and Marcus, who exchanged worried glances with each other. “Let me repeat my original question,” he said when neither of them spoke. “What the hell is this about?”
“We want you to take over the vineyard.” Marcus steepled his hands and leaned forward, his warm brown eyes intense on Griffin. “Your mother and I have been making plans for this since you came home.”
“Before that even,” Jana added.
“Was anyone going to mention it to me?” Griffin pushed away from the table, much like his brother had minutes earlier. Instead of following Trevor out of the room, he approached the far wall to the collage of framed photos of the property over the years. There was a photo of his great-great-grandfather, who had first farmed the land, a few aerial shots of the fields and photos of the various expansions over the years.
The largest photo hung in the center of the wall and showed his dad and mom toasting each other with the first pinot noir they’d bottled. He and Trevor stood on either side of them. Griffin smiled broadly—he could still feel the excitement of that first day, but Trevor was frowning at the camera. As Griffin remembered it, they’d had to cancel a family trip to the Grand Canyon because his dad had barely left the vineyard those first couple of years. Griffin had never minded, but his brother had hated all the things they’d missed because of the family business.
“What about Trevor?” he asked, turning to his mother. “He’s right about everything he sacrificed for Harvest. I got to have a life away from here. He’s been tied to the vines for his whole life. Don’t you think he’s earned his place at the helm?”
Her mouth tightened. “Of course he has, but it isn’t about that. I want him to be happy. I want both of you to be happy.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked up at him. “Trevor doesn’t want to leave for the same reason you don’t want to come back. Your father.” She sighed. “I know he did his best, but if he could have known how things would end up here—”
“He wouldn’t have changed a thing,” Griffin interrupted. “I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s true. Dad only cared about the way he saw things. I was the screw-up and Trevor was the golden child. There was no room for any middle ground in his world.”
“It isn’t his world any longer,” she said with a sniff. “I want you to take over for Marcus. I want you to run Harvest.”
Griffin ran a hand over his face. Those were the words he’d always longed to hear, but now he had such a clearer understanding of the significance of what a commitment like that meant. “I appreciate your faith in me, and I’ll think about it.” He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t just say yes, but something held him back. Something that sounded a lot like his father’s doubting voice.
His mother didn’t look pleased by his response but she nodded. “I’ll talk to your brother,” she told him.
“What about his big plan for an event center and inn?”
“We’re not ready for that,” Marcus answered. “I’ll make sure Trevor understands why.”
“It’s a good idea,” Griffin said quietly. “Other vineyards have expanded to great success. It would make Harvest a destination if it’s done right.”
“Are you saying you support his plan?” Jana asked.
“No,” Griffin admitted. “I’m saying it’s smart for the business if the goal is to keep expanding.” He met Marcus’s knowing gaze. “But I agree that it’s not where we want to be right now. Harvest needs to focus on our environmental certifications and making the best wine we can. Anyone can be the biggest. We should be the best.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Marcus nodded. “It confirms why your mother and I believe you should be the one to take over my position.”
“We’ll have to find a way to pull back from Trevor’s public announcement without embarrassing him.”
“Of course,” Jana agreed.
Griffin sighed. “I’m still not sure about this. I wasn’t joking when I said I needed time to make a decision.”
“You’ve been concentrating on rebuilding the tasting room,” Marcus told him. “I know we’ve had a few conversations about the future of the vineyard and you were here for the harvest this year. But you need to understand the state of the business right now. Work with me for a week. Let me show you where things stand. Then you can decide how you want to proceed.”
Griffin felt his heart speed up as he thought about really being a part of Harvest again, more than just making amends for his mistakes.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I have some things to wrap up with my crew today. I’ll report for office duty first thing tomorrow.”
Both his mother and Marcus smiled.
“This is how it was always meant to be,” Jana said. “You’ll see.”
Griffin walked out of the office, wishing he shared his mother’s confidence.
Chapter Eleven
“Are they going to open a restaurant, too?”
“How many people will the venue accommodate?”
“Is the vineyard zoned for that kind of enterprise?”
“What are you going to do about this?”
Silence descended upon the room at that last question, lobbed by Vivian Spencer, of course. Maggie nodded as if acknowledging each of the inquires and forced her features to remain neutral. Her grandmother had called an emergency meeting of the Stonecreek downtown business association for Monday morning, and Maggie had cleared her schedule so she could attend.
Vivian wasn’t the only one wary of Harvest Vineyards’ proposed expansion. Many of the small business owners in town had concerns about what the news would mean for them. Although Harvest was officially in the town of Stonecreek, the property was an equal distance from the next town over, Molberry. And while Harvest was associated with the Stone family’s namesake town, there had already been rumblings about the leaders in Molberry trying to ingratiate themselves with Trevor in order to become the preferred vendors for any items that needed to be outsourced once the Harvest event center and guest lodge opened.
“I left messages for Trevor and Jana,” Maggie reported, not bothering to add that neither of the Stones had seen fit to return her calls yet. “I plan to set up a meeting with them by day’s end so we can get a
real understanding of the plan.” She lifted the copy of Trevor’s press release she’d printed earlier. “Details are limited in what Trevor sent out, so I’m guessing he doesn’t have them yet.”
“What about Griffin?” Russ Wileton, who ran Stonecreek Realty, demanded.
Maggie bristled at the accusation in the man’s tone. “What about Griffin?” she shot back.
“He fawned all over you at the gala,” restaurant owner Irma Cole added. “That has to mean something. Don’t you have some influence with him?”
“As far as I know,” Maggie said carefully, “Griffin isn’t involved in this announcement.” He’d sent her a cryptic text late last night that he was “working things out on his end”—whatever that meant. But that was the last she’d heard from him. Not exactly giving her warm and fuzzy feelings about their status as a couple, but she was probably silly for thinking he’d offer anything more.
“He had to know it was coming,” Vivian said, her tone disapproving. “It reflects badly on all of them that we had to find this out at the same time as the rest of the world.”
Maggie doubted the whole “rest of the world” was interested in the future plans of an Oregon vineyard, although she understood it was big news in the regional wine industry. With the expansion, Harvest would be one of the most prominent wineries in the area.
“I don’t think any of you have reason to worry,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Obviously we just had our most successful hospital fund-raiser to date at the vineyard. Jana and Marcus are committed to this community.”
“Trevor still has it out for you.” Dora Gianelli, whose family had operated the bakery in town for more than three generations, flipped her thick gray braid over one shoulder. It was difficult to believe that the biggest gossip in Stonecreek looked like a sweet, harmless throwback to the Woodstock era. “You know...for standing him up at the altar.”
“I remember,” Maggie said through clenched teeth. “And in case I ever start to forget, I can always pop by the bakery for a slice of Runaway Bride Banana Bread.” She smiled at Dora. “Don’t you think it’s time to go back to plain old banana bread?”
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