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

by Jen Talty

  “I know what you thought, and I told you it wouldn’t work. But as always, you had to do things your way.” Carter tucked in his shirt and raked a hand through his hair. “I love you. I always have, and I always will. But you’ve gone too far this time, and you’re going to have to let me take care of this. I’m going to call him and invite him for breakfast. I suggest you head on back to your place and smooth things over with Eliza Jane.” He lowered his chin and narrowed his stare. “Because if you don’t, our divorce will actually be a real one.” He turned on his heels and disappeared out the door.

  For the first time in her adult life, she didn’t know what to do. Her grandfather would have told her to ignore Carter’s words and form her own plan—or to revise her original one. Her father would have agreed. The winery had to stay within the family. She could never sell it.

  And the Blue family could never, ever be involved. What her great-grandfather had done was in the past. It couldn’t be undone. So the secret might as well stay buried. For years, she’d believed that and did whatever she had to in order to carry on what she felt was the River family tradition.

  Only it was a lie, plain and simple.

  But it was time to right the wrong her family had done generations ago.

  4

  Malbec

  Malbec would have preferred to have found his mother, but perhaps it was best if he had a few moments to cool his jets and have a nice breakfast with his dad. His father had a way of helping him understand his mom, or at the very least, the situation. He sat at the back patio table and stared into his coffee.

  He couldn’t get Eliza Jane out of his mind. Her beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just that. There was something else about her that he found incredibly attractive, and he wanted to get to know her better. She seemed like the kind of woman he’d like.

  But his mother had ruined that for him.

  Besides, he planned to change his flight and leave as soon as he visited with all his siblings. He wouldn’t just run off without seeing them—that would be rude. And, besides, he wanted to catch up with all of them. He’d missed them. Being part of a large family was something Malbec both loved and hated. Growing up, it had truly been both a blessing and a curse. He never had any privacy—always having to share a room with Merlot, no matter what house they chose to stay at. But the second he went off to college, he’d missed his siblings. His roommate wasn’t his family, and he preferred the kitchen table and his mother’s cooking to cafeteria food.

  “Here you go.” His father set a plate of his famous French toast and bacon on the table.

  “Thanks, Dad.” He glanced up. “Did you know what Mom was up to?”

  His father nodded and then lowered his gaze as if he were ashamed. “She promised me that she was going to tell you the truth as soon as you landed, but you came home early and met Eliza Jane before she had the chance.”

  Malbec shook his head. “That was quite the embarrassing introduction for both Eliza Jane and me.”

  “I can only imagine,” his father said.

  “Do you believe that Mom was going to come clean with her ruse?”

  His father lifted his chin. “I do. But I’m also angry with myself for letting her do this. And it wasn’t just about wanting you to run the winery. That, I’m totally on board with and have no issue with your mom playing her little games. I want you back in Candlewood Falls. This is your home. You belong here, and you belong at The River Winery.”

  A smile tugged at Malbec’s lips. He shook his head. “What makes Eliza Jane so special that Mom thinks I’d give up my career in Napa Valley and move home to run the winery with her? Because that’s what she’s expecting now, isn’t it?”

  His father shrugged. “You’re both talented viticulturists and vintners. You know our wines, and Eliza Jane has done wonders for failing wineries across the southwest. She has quite the reputation.”

  “I did a quick Google search on Eliza Jane this morning. Her record is both interesting and impressive.” Malbec wasn’t sure interesting was the right word, but it was the first one that came to mind. As did sexy and sweet and smart and a slew of other adjectives that confused him. But he doubted his father wanted to hear those. Nor did he want to contemplate them because that meant he’d have to examine the feelings stirring in his brain, gut, and heart for a woman he barely knew. That was something he had no intention of doing when he planned to get on a plane and go back to California as soon as he got his mother to listen to reason. “She’s never stayed anywhere longer than eighteen months. That’s barely long enough to understand anyone’s process. That’s so important if you really want to start your own line.”

  “That’s not really true and you know it.” His father raised his mug and took a slow slip of his coffee while he arched his brow with that all knowing stare.

  Malbec hated that at his age his father could still give him that look, and he’d be reduced to a small child in a matter of seconds.

  “What’s your real problem and let’s not talk about the fact you think you want us to sell.” His father set his mug down and cut into his French toast.

  Sometimes Malbec resented his father’s ability to always remain calm, no matter what. It was insanely annoying.

  “But we do have to have that conversation because when we do find a buyer, and it will be a major company, Eliza Jane most likely won’t be able to put her name on any label. She doesn’t have the clout or the long-term experience. And have either you or mom considered what will happen when Eliza Jane decides she’s done all she can here and moves on to the next vineyard? Because that’s what she does and that only postponing the inevitable.”

  His father dropped his fork. “Do not insult me, son.” He cleared his throat as he lifted his utensil and cleaned off the syrup. “And don’t treat me or your mother as if we don’t know what we’re doing.”

  Shit. That was not what Malbec was trying to do. Well, not with his father anyway. “Dad. That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that Eliza Jane has a pattern of not staying anywhere for any length of time. That tells me she doesn’t have the commitment to stick with creating a line of wines.”

  “You don’t know her story,” his father said with a deep tone. “So, until you get to know her, you don’t get to make judgments.”

  Malbec had to admit that was fair to a point. He also would have to accept that he was looking for reasons not to find Eliza Jane fascinating. The more he distrusted her, the less he’d want to get to know her, only his father wasn’t helping.

  “You obviously know things I don’t and you seem to think Eliza Jane and I are some kind of cosmic perfect match just like Mom.”

  His father laughed waving his hand. “I never said I believed Faith’s vision.”

  “Excuse me? What about Faith?”

  “Oh. You hadn’t heard that?” His father shifted his seat. “Yeah. Well. I never said I believed it. I just agree with your mother that you and Eliza Jane would make for a great team. She’s got your zest and excitement when she’s in the vineyard. I can see it deep in her soul when she’s working with the grapes and tasting the wine. She’s a natural. She’s you.”

  “You really think Mom found a match for me?” Malbec stared into his father’s blue eyes. They were much lighter than the rest of the family’s and often had a green tint. His mother used to tell all of the kids that a person could see into someone’s soul through their eyes, and that’s what attracted her to their father.

  Malbec could see a deep passion in Eliza Jane. But he also saw a sense of loneliness.

  Not the kind that made someone sad, but the kind that came from either being lost or from when a person ran from something. He knew this because, deep in his heart, he understood what that felt like.

  And while it drove him nuts that his mother constantly tried to find him the perfect mate, in a far corner of his heart, the romantic in him kind of hoped his mom had that power.

  “Your mother is scary intuitive when it
comes to these things, and I’ve always trusted her when it comes to the winery.” His father lifted his index finger. “Except when she all but ran you out of town. That said, yes, I like Eliza Jane, and she has some intriguing ideas that I believe will help bring The River Winery back to its glory. However, she’s going to need help.” His father ran his thumb and forefinger across his square chin. “To be honest, son, I think your mom has been trying to let these last few years of wine be a little less than perfect to see if you’d come home. But all it’s done is make you want to sell, and that’s not something I can let you continue to pursue. Not on my watch.”

  Malbec’s jaw dropped open. That wasn’t a scenario he’d ever considered. His mom was a lot of things, but to sabotage her family’s long-standing reputation with their wines wasn’t something he’d ever thought she’d do. No. He figured she was simply getting on in years, and the vineyard and winery were becoming too much for her to handle. And without a single River in sight to take it over, it was time to let it go. He let out a long breath. “Is she ready to tell me the big secret?”

  “You’ll have to ask her that.” His father lowered his chin. “And don’t keep pushing me on this because you know I’m not going to get in the middle.”

  “Fine. I’ll drop it for now.” Malbec rubbed his temple. His father always took his mom’s side when it came to whatever this big, dark secret was, and it drove Malbec insane. “What else does Eliza Jane want? Because having her own label can’t be her only end game.” He decided it was best to move onto the next topic.

  “Nothing has been signed,” his father said. “The first year is all about seeing if we’re a good fit. If she is, then we’re looking at a percentage of the profits.”

  “Are you talking ownership?” Malbec’s heart squeezed.

  “I think this is a discussion we need to have when your mom is present.”

  “No. I want to know the details. And since I was once again manipulated to come home, I’d appreciate some answers.”

  “A small piece of the winery is part of the negotiation. But I believe Eliza Jane is more focused on her own label than ownership, if that makes you feel any better.” His father poured a hefty dose of syrup over his French toast and dug in. “Eat. This is getting cold.”

  Malbec followed suit. He closed his eyes as his tastebuds exploded at the maple flavor mixed with powdered sugar, cinnamon, and of course, the sourdough bread his dad had soaked in egg. There was nothing like it. He blinked. “Eliza Jane said that Mom sought her out. Why?”

  “For the record, we’ve had a lot of turnovers lately, and your mom wanted to find someone who might stay put. Not to mention, she knows she can’t do this much longer.”

  “Mom actually admitted that?”

  “Not in so many words, but you know that. And she won’t sell. She promised your grandfather that she’d never let it go, and if your mother is anything, she’s good to her word.” His father lowered his chin. “And I’ll reiterate. I’m in agreement with your mother. Selling isn’t an option.”

  “Dad. I can’t believe you’re being as unreasonable as she is,” Malbec said. “The winery is either going to bankrupt the two of you, or us kids will end up selling it when you die.” He nearly choked on the last word. Even thinking about the day his parents left this Earth brought a tear to his eye. No matter the distance and the problems between him and his mom, his parents—and his siblings—were his everything.

  “You’re being dramatic,” his father said. “We’re not even close to financial ruin.”

  “You will be if something doesn’t change.”

  His father smiled widely. A little too wide. He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Something did change. Eliza Jane showed up.”

  “I still don’t understand what makes Eliza Jane so special for both the winery and me that Mother had to pull this epic stunt.”

  His father shifted, rubbing his hands on his jeans. Malbec hated it when his father did that. “I don’t have a clue either.”

  “Bullshit.” Malbec’s father knew everything his mother did and why. They had no secrets. Not a single one. If there were bodies, his dad knew where they were buried. “Be straight with me. Something about Eliza Jane that has Mom believing the new girl in town’s tarot card readings. Faith and her nana might actually be the real deal, but come on, Dad. What the hell is really going on here? Mom doesn’t do things based on what a card or a vision says.”

  “All I know about Faith and her nana ran into your mother in town right after she had a Zoom meeting with Eliza Jane. Faith saw you and Eliza Jane in a vision.” His father shrugged. “I don’t know anything else, so you’ll need to ask your mother that question.”

  Malbec planned on doing just that, but he also knew his mother, and she had a way of avoiding the truth—though she’d only downright lied to him a handful of times.

  Getting him to come home this week had been one of them.

  The rest of her little fibs had been more twists of the truth so she could get her way. Otherwise, she just didn’t tell him anything.

  What had been worse was her unwillingness to bend, which was what had pushed her family away—that and her damn secret. Something that tore at Malbec’s heartstrings.

  Deep down, his mother was a kind and loving woman, and he wanted the mother he remembered. The mom that had tucked him in at night when he was a small boy.

  Not the Weezer the town stared at and gossiped about.

  Malbec swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d met Eliza Jane once and for all of an hour, but something about her had him unable to push her from his mind. The desire to see her again made him crazy because it didn’t make sense. There was no reason to get to know her, and yet, he knew the first chance he got, he was going to do just that. “I asked you to be honest. You said Eliza Jane and I would make for a good working relationship. Do you think we’re a match personally?”

  His father laughed. “She’s the only young lady I’ve met that I think could handle you, so yeah. I do. But what I think doesn’t matter.” He tapped his chest. “If it’s meant to be, then it will happen. Your mom and I are proof of that.”

  “I’ve never understood your relationship with Mom.”

  “It’s not for you to understand, except to know that we love each other and you kids.” His father lifted a piece of bacon and shoved it into his mouth. “Your mom is trying to change.”

  Malbec laughed. “This doesn’t feel like change.”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t. It’s more like one giant leap backward. But she knows it, and that’s a step in the right direction.” His father wiped his fingers on his napkin and took a sip of his coffee. “Do me a favor and don’t make any decisions about leaving just yet. I don’t like what your mom did, and I told her as much. But as your grandpa used to say, what’s done is done. No use sitting in shit. Might as well change the smell.”

  Malbec laughed. “Where the hell did he come up with those sayings? Half the time, they didn’t even make sense.”

  His father raised his mug. “I have no damn clue. My father-in-law scared the crap out of me half the time. He was worse than Weezer. He was your mother on crack. But the same thing can be said about your mom that can be said about your grandfather. She’s totally misunderstood, and while she might do some crazy-ass stuff, her heart is always in the right place.”

  Malbec couldn’t argue that point.

  “She has to come clean about the secret,” Malbec said.

  “Perhaps you need to change your approach in order to get the answers you seek.”

  “Does it have anything to do with this EJ man Grandpa rambled on about on his death bed?”

  “Have you asked your mom about EJ?”

  Malbec nodded. “She said she had no idea who he was and that maybe it was someone from Grandpa’s childhood. Or just the dementia speaking.”

  “Ask her again, but do it in a different way,” his father said. “Your mother is tired of all this, but i
t’s hard for her. She made promises, and she’s lived her life by your grandfather’s rules. That hasn’t been easy. That said, she never wanted any of you kids to have that same pressure.”

  “Jesus, Dad. You could put us all out of our misery by telling me what you know.”

  His father shook his head. “I can’t do that. It’s not my place. I’m sorry that it hurts you and that you don’t understand, but I can’t—I won’t—do that to your grandfather’s memory or to my wife.” He held up his hand. “However, I do agree that she should tell you, so I will plead your case.”

  That was better than nothing. “I appreciate that.”

  “It’s been eating your mother alive.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “Son, it’s not good, and it will need to be handled with a delicate hand.” His father leaned forward. “And it’s a family matter.” His dad arched both brows. “Family only.”

  Malbec swallowed. If his father wanted something to stay in the closet, it had to be worse than bad.

  Eliza Jane

  Eliza Jane swirled the red wine and brought it to her nose. She tried not to purse her lips at the acidic scent. It would be too harsh going down, and the palate of a wine connoisseur would absolutely reject this blend. It wasn’t the worst flavor in the world, and at less than twenty dollars a bottle, it would probably do just fine. But this sold for over sixty. She had no idea how The River Winery stayed in business.

  It didn’t matter that this was their most inexpensive line.

  It wasn’t a good wine.

  She couldn’t even chalk it up to being a bad year. It simply hadn’t been processed properly, and that didn’t make much sense to Eliza Jane.

  The door to the winemaking room squeaked open, and she glanced over her shoulder.

  Weezer.

  Oh, this conversation should be fun.

  “Good morning,” Eliza Jane said. “I was hoping you’d show up soon.”