Rivers Edge: A Candlewood Falls Novel (The River Winery Book 1)

by Jen Talty

  Poor boy.

  Always misunderstood.

  Just like Weezer.

  And, of course, Alpacino. She’d have to go visit him shortly. He’d appreciate what she’d done. Chewpacha on the other hand? Well, that alpaca didn’t get shit. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he just wasn’t as bright as Alpacino.

  “That’s not what happened, and you know it.” Carter closed the gap and wrapped his strong arms around her body.

  She wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t. He always offered her comfort, even when she was pissed as hell at him. “You did suggest that he learn from other vineyards.”

  “Of course, I did.” Carter kissed the top of her forehead. “That way, he could bring back everything he learned. But you were being too stubborn to see that.” He brushed her hair from her face. “Your father had just died, and that secret spooked you to the point where it even scared me.”

  She rested her hands on Carter’s shoulders. “I’ve always scared you.”

  He smiled, which made his blue eyes sparkle like bright aquamarines. “You know I’ll support you in trying to mend our family. But it’s hard when you refuse to clue me in until after you’ve done something, and then it’s too late to talk you out of it or even fix the damage you might have done without even knowing it.”

  One of the things she loved about Carter was that he didn’t push her too hard. Maybe he should. It had been during that dark time after her father died where they’d almost ended things between them for good.

  “I’ll tell him the truth about not selling the winery when he gets here.”

  “And what about Eliza Jane? What will you tell her?”

  “It won’t matter because Malbec will already know the truth.” She rose on tiptoe. “She’ll stay on, and I can wrong a right.”

  “It’s not going to be that simple.”

  She smiled. Sometimes, Carter needed to be more positive. “Hopefully, they’ll fall in love, blending the two families forever, and make us grandparents.”

  “Oh, good Lord, woman.” Carter brushed his lips over her mouth. “Will you ever stop meddling?”

  “That’s like asking the apple orchard to cut down their apple trees.” She gave her husband—technically ex-husband—a squeeze. “I’ve got a lot of things to do in the next few days. Are you still planning to be here when Eliza Jane arrives?”

  He nodded. “But I want you to promise me that other than being honest and making the proper introductions, you won’t push our son onto this young woman. We need her to stay on board, no matter what happens. Especially when you tell her the truth about who she is and what this land means to her.”

  “I love you with all I am, but I will not make that promise. Especially about telling her anything unless she and Malbec become a thing.”

  2

  Eliza Jane

  Of all the places Eliza Jane Blue thought she’d find herself living and making wine, small-town New Jersey wasn’t one of them.

  As she passed the Candlewood Falls town sign, she felt a smile tug at her lips. Colorful leaves filled the tall trees. She’d had no idea that autumn had begun to settle in the northeast as early as the beginning of September. Having lived in the southwest for most of her life, she’d only seen pictures, and they hadn’t done the array of lavish colors justice. She nearly missed the turn to the winery as she stared at the beauty.

  She blinked as she pulled into the parking lot. The run-down building wasn’t exactly what she’d expected based on the beautiful pictures Weezer River had sent. However, from what Eliza Jane had read, she knew she was faced with a few challenges.

  One of which was the fact that Weezer’s son had abandoned ship. And whenever someone asked Malbec why, he gracefully avoided the question. His mother never took interviews. However, Eliza Jane could read between the lines. Besides, Malbec had made quite a name for himself in Napa Valley, working with one of the finest wineries and vineyards in the entire country. He didn’t have his own label, but he was considered one of the top viticulturists and vintners in the country.

  Eliza Jane wanted her name on a bottle, and The River Winery could give her just that—especially with Malbec living his best life on the other coast. Not only that, but since none of the children wanted anything to do with the business, there was a very real chance that Eliza Jane could someday own stock in the winery if she played her cards right.

  It was something they could discuss something that Weezer had given a lot of thought to, and they would discuss when the first year was up.

  Eliza found a quaint coffee shop in the middle of town and decided to stop. She could seriously use some caffeine. She stood in line and glanced at the special board.

  “You want the pumpkin spice and the apple fritter,” the woman behind her said. “It’s the best in all of New Jersey.”

  “Thanks,” Eliza Jane said.

  “No problem. Are you new in town?”

  “Yes. I start work today at The River Winery.”

  The woman’s eyes went wide. “Really? What will you be doing there?”

  “I’m the new viticulturist and vintner. I’ll also be managing some of the operations.”

  “Oh. That must have Malbec’s panties in a big old wad,” the woman said.

  Eliza Jane knew all too well about Malbec and his history with his family. And she worried about that very thing. Still, she wasn’t about to discuss that with a stranger. “It’s not going to be a problem.”

  “I hope for your sake it won’t be.”

  “I’m Eliza Jane. And you are?”

  The woman glanced around. “I used to know the family. It’s probably better if you don’t know who I am.” She pointed. “You’re up.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Eliza Jane ordered exactly what the woman had recommended and then turned to thank her, but she was nowhere to be found. Eliza Jane handed her credit card to the young girl at the counter. “Did you see who was standing behind me?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Eliza Jane took her coffee and treat and headed back to her car. She plugged in the winery’s address and drove out of town. A few minutes later, she pulled down a long, windy drive.

  She parked her small SUV in a guest spot and shut off the engine. Reaching across the vehicle, she opened the glove box and pulled out the picture of her great-grandfather. She ran her fingers across the image. “This is for you and Grandpa and Daddy,” she whispered as she thumbed the sign that read The River’s Edge Winery. She glanced up and looked around. The scenery was similar but different. Besides, the River family had founded The River Winery, and it had been in their family for generations. The only thing it had in common with her great-grandfather was the name.

  She wished she’d known where her great-grandfather’s winery had been located. According to her father, he’d only owned it for a year, and it was more than a sore subject in the family. No one ever talked about it, and if they did, her grandfather shut them down quickly.

  She stuffed the picture back into the glove box and stepped from her vehicle. A cool breeze rustled her long, red-brown hair. She quickly snagged a ponytail holder from the many she kept on her wrist and wrangled her mane into a messy bun on top of her head. She inhaled sharply and smiled as the crisp scent of various grapes assaulted her nose.

  Leaving her last job had been a big risk. She’d told herself that she had to stop meandering from one vineyard to the next. This last place had given her stability, and while she’d never achieve her ultimate goal of having her own line and a stake in the winery itself, she’d known that she could have been successful there.

  But she wouldn’t have been satisfied.

  She glanced at the sky and whispered an apology to her grandfather. Selling the family’s small, novelty winemaking business probably wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he told her to go out in the world and put her name on a label. And, frankly, she could have probably done that right there in her father and grandpa’s sho
p.

  But after her father passed, she knew that it was time to step out into the world and make a name for herself—one that her father and grandfather could be proud of.

  It would take a few years to establish herself at The River Winery, and even longer to create a label of her own wines. But Weezer had told her that it was time to change things up, and after doing a little research on Weezer’s history, and that of her winery and family, Eliza found that Weezer rarely went back on her word.

  And if she did, it was because she had been backed into a corner, it had to do with her kids, or someone had crossed her.

  Everyone warned Eliza Jane not to get on Weezer’s bad side. Said that if she ever did, she might as well consider any contract she signed null and void.

  A tall, older gentleman with graying hair strolled across the parking lot, a slight limp to his steps. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a dark, long-sleeved shirt with The River Winery logo on the chest.

  “You must be Eliza Jane,” he said as he waved.

  That had to be Carter. At least, she hoped.

  “I am.” She reached into her car and pulled out her oversized purse, flinging it over her shoulder. Butterflies filled her stomach. She’d heard some wild stories about Weezer, her husband, and their family. However, everyone she spoke to in the business had told her that they were good people. Stubborn and often did things their own way, which was why the company wasn’t doing as well as it could have been. However, despite all that, she’d also been told that Weezer had singlehandedly sabotaged her business all in the name of forcing her son to return.

  That seemed to have backfired. Now, Weezer was ready to move forward on a different path—one that included Eliza Jane.

  “It’s a pleasure. My name is Carter River.” He stretched out his arm.

  She took his hand in a firm shake.

  “Weezer should be back any moment. We had a minor problem with the fence between the alpaca farm and the river’s edge, where she planted some new grapevines. One of the alpacas keeps escaping, and he has a special affinity for the new grape.” Carter leaned in. “My ex-wife says she dislikes the alpacas, especially Alpacino, but I think she wants to run off with him.”

  “I’m not sure I even know what an alpaca is.”

  “They are kind of like llamas, but not really. Honestly, I think Weezer’s the one who keeps breaking the fence and letting the alpacas onto our land, because it started happening before I entered the picture. Only, Alpacino is the only one that really ventures in. It’s as if the rest of them are truly terrified of her—like everyone else in this town.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Carter waved his hand toward the main double doors. “That depends on whether you are asking about why everyone is afraid of Weezer, or why Alpacino is the only damn alpaca that comes on our land.”

  “I’ll bite. Both.” The entryway was a solid oak barn door. She glanced around at the rustic building as she stepped into the lobby, impressed by the detail that had gone into the woodwork. It needed work, but the bones were more than there.

  “She doesn’t feed the other alpacas, so they don’t venture that far down the property line. They don’t have any reason to.”

  “That’s mean,” Eliza Jane said. “Now, why is everyone so scared of Weezer? She seems nice enough.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t do your research into our background?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Of course, I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

  Carter smiled. “My wife’s bark is a hell of a lot worse than her bite, but I still wouldn’t go getting on her bad side. She knows how to hold a grudge, that’s for damn sure. And during this first year, you’re going to want to make sure you do things her way and only her way. Otherwise, you might find that my ex-wife is less generous than originally stated.”

  “You’ve referred to Weezer as your wife and also as your ex-wife. Why is that?” Eliza Jane had a few big personality pitfalls—the worst being her curiosity. She shouldn’t be asking such personal questions within five minutes of meeting someone, but she just couldn’t resist. This family was so fascinating, and their personal history was even richer.

  “Technically, we’re divorced. And we don’t live together. But we are most definitely in love and a couple.” He shrugged. “From the outside looking in, it’s complicated. But it’s really not. And for us, it works.”

  “No judgment from me.” Eliza meandered into the main tasting room. Again, it had a rustic farm feel. She wanted to make a few changes, but she’d wait a week before compiling a report and having a sit-down with Weezer. And Eliza Jane would have to be mindful not to step on Weezer’s toes. Right now, her job wasn’t to tell Weezer what to do, but to make suggestions for improvements. “My parents divorced when I was young. I haven’t seen my mother in years. I have no idea where she is.”

  “I’m sorry.” Carter leaned against the back wall. “That’s very sad.”

  “I don’t know any different.” Eliza Jane had no emotional connection to her mom. While she could pull up a few memories, she really didn’t have any fond ones—or negative ones for that matter—to feel bad about. Her mother had been there; and then one day, she wasn’t.

  It was that simple.

  “I should warn that Weezer will tell you she’s going to let you run the show, but she won’t really let you. She’s tried to let go of the reins in the past, but it’s impossible for her to do so. Not completely, anyway. Your best bet is to take things very slowly and follow her lead. Bringing in a manager who isn’t family is a new concept for Weezer, and it hasn’t been easy.”

  “She warned me. As did many in the business. Actually, to be honest, some recommended I not take this job.” She swallowed the words. She shouldn’t have said that, but what was done, was done. She couldn’t take it back now. “But since we’re on the subject…” She stood in the middle of the room and stared at Carter. “What about your eldest son, Malbec? What are the chances he wants to come back and run this place? I know how talented he is, and I can’t imagine he wants a stranger in here.”

  “He’s not coming back,” Carter said pretty quickly. “At one point, he wanted to manage this place. It was his dream until he landed in Napa Valley. Greener pastures called, and he’s quite content where he is. That’s all Weezer and I want for our kids—for them to be happy.”

  “I have to admit, when I worked in Napa, I loved it. But when Weezer offered me a line of my own in the future and a stake in the winery, I couldn’t turn that down.”

  “That’s only after we see how this works.” He held up his hand. “I don’t mean to say or act as if we won’t follow through, but we have to make sure this is a good fit for all of us.”

  “I understand,” she said with a nod.

  “We haven’t created a new wine since our youngest was born. I’m sure Weezer told you that you can’t mess with those seven signature blends.”

  She opened her mouth just as the main doors flew open.

  “So sorry I’m late.” A woman wearing a pair of oversized ripped jeans, combat boots, and a camouflage shirt barreled into the room. Dirt covered her, but oddly, her graying, shoulder-length hair was perfectly styled, and it appeared as if she’d just put on a fresh coat of makeup. “Jenna had an opening, and I took it.”

  “Who’s Jenna?” Eliza Jane asked.

  “She owns the salon in town, and she’s the best. I set you up with an appointment this week.”

  Eliza Jane felt her eyes go wide. She’d been warned that Weezer not only liked to be in control at the winery, but she also tended to micromanage all her employees—both on and off the job. That was, in part, why she’d gone through a few winemakers in the last five years when it’d just been Weezer and her husband—or ex-husband. Whatever.

  That was confusing as hell.

  “That really wasn’t necessary,” Eliza Jane said as she twisted a strand of hair that had a few split ends.

  “It’s my treat. I
like doing things for all my new employees. And I also got you a tarot card reading in a couple of weeks.”

  Carter covered his mouth and laughed. “What on earth did you want or need from Faith that required you to purchase a reading? You think all that psychic crap is for the birds.”

  Weezer rolled her eyes. “I do, but I also think it’s important for our new viticulturist and vintner to meet all the business owners in town. Which is also why she’s going to man our booth at the orchard this year.”

  “Now that’s a good idea,” Carter said as he squeezed Weezer’s shoulder. “I do have my other job to attend to.”

  “Other job?” Eliza Jane felt as if she were watching a tennis match; only she didn’t know who was winning, much less who she was rooting for.

  “My husband is the best lawyer in town.”

  “Oh, really? My grandfather went to law school. What do you specialize in?” Eliza Jane asked. Her grandfather had no passion for the law. He loved making wine, even though his father’s reputation in the business had made it difficult. He and Eliza Jane’s father had a little local shop where they helped people make and bottle specialty wines. It was a fun business, and it kept their family history of winemaking going.

  Eliza Jane wanted to carry on her great-grandfather’s passion for grapes, even though the old coot had managed to gamble away nearly everything he’d ever owned. Still, she’d heard stories that he had a real talent and taste for wine.

  “Whatever you need. Except for divorces.” Carter laughed. “I’ll see you ladies later.”

  “Let’s take a walk.” Weezer led Eliza Jane behind the counter, into the back room, and out into the vast vineyard.

  She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes for about ten seconds. She could smell the earthy aroma mixed with the tang of the grapes. They were ripe and ready to be plucked from the vines and processed. Of course, these wouldn’t be ready for drinking for a few years, but she could tell this would be a good vintage, and she was excited to get working.