Sweet From the Vine

by Jacquie Underdown

  Tom looked on and it felt a little like this consultation was the first part of her job interview. She caught him, at times, deep in thought, as though putting what she was telling Amy about the cupcake shop into action on the vineyard.

  And she had to admit, she was doing that herself—already the wheels were in motion.

  A decade—more—had passed since she’d even stepped foot on the Mathews Family Vineyard, but her recollection of that property was still vivid. Excitement twinged in her belly for the opportunity that could lay ahead of her.

  A big local business that was in the process of expanding was exactly where her skills could be used to their potential. A role like that would assure her long-term position in this town too.

  The only drawback was Mitch. Not Mitch in and of himself. The boy she remembered was loyal, tender, kind. The drawback was herself and where she now stood with Mitch.

  All in all, it was her who had ended their two year relationship and taken off to Melbourne for university thinking this town was too small, only to realise fifteen years later that she may have been wrong.

  And now she was possibly going to be employed by him. Would that even work?

  But like Tom said, so much living had taken place between when she was here last and now. Mitch had been married, had a child, and been widowed. Surely Matilda was but a distant memory and whatever history they had together was … insignificant. Surmountable.

  Not at all a potential problem.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 2

  Cleaning vomit off the carpet wasn’t what Mitch preferred to be doing on a Tuesday morning. Any day of the week really. But Georgia, the nanny, had an early morning appointment and, of course, his nineteen-month-old daughter, Sophie, decided that was the appropriate time to vomit—repetitively.

  And now he was late for work on a morning when his schedule was blocked out for an interview with a potential marketing manager. He couldn’t remember booking out that time on his schedule, so maybe one of his brothers had and forgot to tell him about it.

  He didn’t hold too much hope for filling the position. It was getting more and more likely that they were going to have to outsource their marketing to a firm in Melbourne, but he really didn’t want to do that. He wanted someone on board at the vineyard, seeing firsthand the day to day activities, living among the family culture, and being personally involved.

  So far, that was the one thing missing from every candidate they interviewed—heart.

  This vineyard was where Mitch’s heart was, and he needed that translated and communicated effectively on every bottle of wine that was grown, fermented, bottled and shipped out of here.

  He pulled up outside the administration building where all the permanent employees—mostly sales staff, administrators and graphic designers worked. Beside the admin building was the barrelling shed where last season’s vintage was fermenting away.

  On his way up to the admin building, he sniffed the front of his shirt. Did he smell like vomit? Or was the scent of it permanently burned into his nostrils? Either was likely. His throat squeezed thinking about it. Milk vomits from babies—he could deal with that any day of the week. But from a toddler on a diverse diet—he’d reached his limit.

  He raced back to the car, grabbed a tin of deodorant from the glove box and sprayed a little extra on just in case. The last thing he needed was to be presented with a fantastic candidate only for them to turn the job down because their boss smelled like spew.

  Sam and Tom were waiting in the boardroom when he strode in.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ he said when his brothers’ eyes met his.

  ‘Fall into some aftershave this morning?’ Sam asked with a cocky grin. Sam was the biggest of his siblings—half a head taller and his breadth from shoulder to shoulder correspondingly wide.

  He felt in his pockets for something to throw. Lucky for Sam, there wasn’t anything. ‘Sophie spewed everywhere. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to get bits of carrot and corn out of the carpet.’

  They both groaned—the kind of brotherly sympathy that comes with a big dose of ‘glad it’s you and not me’.

  ‘Is she okay?’ Tom asked. He was the youngest brother in the family, though he was a touch taller than Mitch. They all shared similar colouring—brown hair, brown eyes.

  ‘She seems to be. Maybe she just caught a twenty-four-hour gastro bug. Georgia will ring me if she gets worse.’

  ‘That sucks. Poor little girl,’ Sam said. ‘Hope it’s not going around. I’d hate for Livvy to pick it up.’

  Livvy was Sam’s seven-year-old daughter who had lived with her mother until six months ago. Not even Sam had known of her existence until her grandparents brought her out to the vineyard to meet Sam after Livvy’s mother, Sam’s ex, committed suicide.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine,’ Mitch reassured. He took a seat opposite his brothers at the long rectangle table. They equally owned Mathews Family Vineyard and branching entities, but Mitch took on more of the burden of responsibility in ensuring the business remained successful.

  Maybe because he was the eldest. Maybe because he knew nothing else. Sam had done three years at university after he finished high school. Tom had got an apprenticeship and worked for a couple of years in a mine. Mitch only ever had eyes for the vineyard.

  He leant back in his chair and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. ‘So, who are we interviewing this morning? I don’t remember hearing about it.’

  Tom rested both his elbows on the table. ‘I only set it up yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘They must be eager.’

  Tom looked away, then back to Mitch.

  Mitch narrowed his gaze at his brother. What is he up to? ‘Spill it.’

  ‘Amy hired a marketing consultant for Love and Cupcakes. I got to listen to the meeting. This consultant was obviously very skilled. So I asked if she was interested in a local position on a vineyard.’

  Mitch uncrossed his leg and leant forward. ‘Okay, so who is it? A local?’

  Tom exhaled noisily through his nose. ‘Matilda James.’

  Mitch’s eyes widened. ‘My … Matilda James?’

  Tom nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’ He blew out a long breath. ‘Now that’s a face I haven’t seen for a while.’ Fifteen years to be exact. It had taken him a long time to get over Matilda. As an eighteen-year-old, he was devastated when she decided to leave him behind.

  He thought heartbreak couldn’t get any worse. How wrong he was—since the moment his wife Rachel died, he barely had a functioning heart left, and, as it was, he was quite certain his heart would never work properly again. ‘I do recall Felicity saying Matilda had studied marketing. Did she say why she was back in town?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘We didn’t get that far.’

  ‘So her husband is here too?’

  Tom shrugged. ‘Not sure. I’d say so.’

  ‘Okay. And she was okay with … me being here?’ He closed his eyes briefly, hearing how much of an egocentric arse he sounded. As if after fifteen years he would even be an issue. Of course she was a professional now, as was he.

  Tom nodded slowly. ‘The topic did come up, and she said it was perfectly fine.’

  ‘Those exact words?’ He wanted to groan the moment that question had tumbled from his mouth.

  ‘Probably not those exact words, but it was something to that effect.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ Mitch asked.

  Tom shrugged. ‘Honestly, I thought it would be no big deal. Is it a big deal, Mitch?’

  Mitch shook his head quickly and strained a smile. ‘Of course not. I was just … wondering. That’s all.’

  Sam was looking at him with a mocking grin. A grin that said ‘you’re doing a shit job at hiding how this is really making you feel’.

  ‘Got something you want to say, Sam?’

  Sam held his hands up and laughed. ‘Not at all. Proceed. Convince me more how the fact that we’r
e about to interview your ex-girlfriend isn’t bothering you.’

  It wasn’t so much that Matilda was his ex that was bothering him. It was more the fact that he once held intense emotions for this girl—he had loved her—and that had entwined itself now with his unending bereavement in a way he couldn’t decipher.

  He restrained again at throwing something at Sam on account of there not being any object in reaching distance. ‘How about we shut up and get Matilda in here.’ He stood, adjusted his pants on his waist and discreetly smelled his shirt. ‘It will be lovely to see her again after all these years.’

  Tom got up from his seat too. ‘I’ll go collect her from admin.’

  Mitch nodded. ‘Good idea.’

  He didn’t look at Sam as he waited. Within a few moments, the door to the boardroom opened again. Tom stood to the side to allow Matilda to walk through first.

  She met Mitch’s gaze, and it was like he was eighteen again. Those eyes, pale hazel, were as familiar as Mitch’s breath, and fifteen years between now and the last time he was only inches from those eyes as he kissed her, bled off into the atmosphere.

  Her auburn hair was lighter and sat in big bouncy curls around her shoulders.

  Sure, she was a little older, he was too, but she was more beautiful as though she needed time to grow into her features.

  ‘Hi, Mitch,’ she said in that husky tone that always had the effect of heating him from the inside out. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’ A genuinely happy smile spread across her lips and it eased the tension that had tightened his body.

  ‘Good to see you again, Matilda.’

  She paused for the slightest time but long enough for him to see that she was assessing the validity of his statement. He realised then, she was worried if he still held a grudge.

  He walked around the table towards her, his heart slightly accelerated because he didn’t know what the appropriate action should be—did he shake her hand (after all, this was a job interview) or did he hug her (she was his best friend and lover for years)?

  They met in the middle near the big windows that looked out over the car park and entrance road. Her hazel eyes were firmly on his, that full smile was friendly, and the floral scent of her perfume enticed him.

  He got a whiff of his own deodorant, which brought forth horrible memories of vomit. Lots and lots of vomit. And he most likely stunk.

  He thrust his hand out before he could change his mind about a hug. ‘Lovely to have you here with us today, Matilda.’ Absolutely professional and for some reason that made him feel like the world’s biggest dickhead.

  Her smile faltered a little. ‘Yes. Hopefully.’

  Tom interjected. ‘I told Matilda yesterday that this morning would be about her getting an understanding of what we needed here on the vineyard and if Matilda felt that would be something she might be interested in.’

  Mitch released his hand and nodded. ‘Great. Well, let’s get started.’ He gestured towards the chair to the right of him. ‘Please, take a seat.’

  She slid into the chair and crossed her legs. She wore a knee-length but fitted cream coloured skirt and a pale pink sheer blouse with soft frills around the collar. Her curves were highlighted.

  ‘You remember Sam?’ Mitch asked as Sam took a seat opposite, next to Tom.

  She peered at Sam with a smile. ‘I do. Good to see you again.’

  ‘You too.’

  ‘Matilda, I was so impressed with what I saw yesterday with Amy,’ Tom said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I thought we would tell you about the role and the vineyard and then if you think it’s a position you’d be interested in, we can then delve into your work history and qualifications,’ Tom said.

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Mitch leant back in his chair and placed his ankle on his knee. ‘Remember the cellar we have here on the property?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s stocked floor to ceiling with vintages from every year for the last thirty years. We are going to release over the next six years, five years’ vintages starting with the earliest as limited editions.’

  ‘We’ve signed up with In the Spirit liquor stores to be our stockists,’ Tom said.

  Sam leant forward, forearms resting on the table. ‘The first line, our first ever vintage from 1984 will be rolling out just in time for Christmas. So far we’ve received some fantastic critiques from blind tastings as well as a brilliant score on the 100-point system. We anticipate that this will raise our brand recognition from table wine to top-notch and have a knock-on effect with our annual vintages.’

  ‘And that’s where we need a marketing manager who will take control of all the branding, advertising, promotional materials and absolutely send this into the stratosphere,’ Mitch added.

  Matilda leant back in her chair facing Mitch and his brothers, a picture of ease in this room. She was obviously used to this type of meeting.

  ‘Okay. So you want someone for just this new line—’

  Mitch shook his head. ‘We have never had in-house marketing other than our graphic designers who also update our social media from time to time. We outsource most promotions to an agency in Melbourne. But I don’t think they’re hitting our brand just right. And maybe that’s because we may be unclear of that ourselves. That’s why we want someone here on the vineyard, living the culture and seeing how we operate day to day. We want someone who will take over the marketing, promotion and digital media for every aspect of this vineyard.’

  ‘A complete re-brand?’ she asked with a brow arched.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Sam said, rubbing a hand over his chin.

  ‘We already have a logo we’re happy with,’ Tom said. ‘And I think we have strong brand recognition with that already, so we don’t want to change it too much.’

  Mitch added, ‘But we are willing for a modernisation.’

  ‘I see,’ Matilda said, eyes looking off to the right as though she was in deep contemplation. ‘I will need a full tour of the vineyard—covering every aspect of operations. I will need to do surveys of existing customers to see how they perceive the company already—see what works, see what doesn’t. I will have to design and test a revised logo and brand slogan. The website will have to be totally overhauled—I’ve already looked at it and it’s completely inadequate, as are your social media sites. We’ll need media releases written. Functions before the release date to build excitement. Television and radio advertising. Well-targeted on-message social media content. And I would do a complete retraining of your sales team. There’s a lot to do and little time left to do it.’

  A small smile fluttered at the corners of Mitch’s mouth as he met the gaze of his brothers. ‘You see our conundrum,’ he said when looking at Matilda again.

  ‘I’m not cheap.’

  Again that flutter—he was enjoying this confidence of hers. ‘We can negotiate a fair salary.’

  She reached into her leather bag and pulled out three bound folders and handed one to each of them.

  Her resùme. Mitch flicked it open.

  ‘I hold a Bachelor of Marketing from Monash University. I studied my Masters in Digital Media and Advertising while abroad and finished top five per cent in my class. I was scouted upon graduation by Blade and Jensen where I interned for three months before being employed by them for the next four years. I represented many big brands as you can see listed on my resùme …’

  In the fifteen years since she had left Alpine Ridge, she had become a powerhouse. It suited her. She was always so smart and determined—qualities Mitch had loved about her and judging by his crinkled-eyed smile, still admired in her.

  ‘So you are staying in Alpine Ridge permanently?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Tom threaded his fingers together as his hands rested on the table. ‘May I ask why you came back here, Matilda? You obviously had a lot of professional success in the US?’

  She lowered her gaze to the tabletop—the first and only sign of v
ulnerability Mitch had noticed since the meeting started. ‘Personal reasons.’

  Sam lifted his hands up. ‘That’s fine. We won’t intrude.’

  ‘Thank you. But since we have a little history, it might be best to explain. I realised while I was overseas that I missed a slower, more family-oriented lifestyle. I missed home. That doesn’t mean I’m not invested in my career because I still very much am, but I have new goals. A position here on this vineyard, a family business where the private owners have a stake and hands-on role, is the direction I want to head in. It’s much more intimate …’ Her gaze met Mitch’s for the briefest of moments and his stomach flipped. ‘I would feel as though I’m an integral part of something, not just a hired overseer.’

  She was certainly saying what Mitch had wanted to hear. She was more than qualified. Quite frankly, they would be stupid not to hire her.

  ‘And there’s no chance you’ll get restless back here?’ Tom asked.

  She shook her head quickly. ‘I might, but I can’t see that I’ll change my mind about being here. I didn’t take the decision to move back lightly. I left a huge salary behind in San Francisco and divorced my husband. I know I don’t have to tell you that sort of personal information, but you’ll find out soon enough anyway. I’m amazed Mum hasn’t blabbered it around town yet.’

  Tom and Sam chuckled.

  Mitch stared at Matilda, curiosity tingling beneath the surface of his skin. She had left a big salary and her husband to move back here. Why?

  They spoke a little more about the role and how Matilda’s skills could fit. Then they negotiated a fair salary that reflected the increase in sales she predicted she might bring to the operation.

  Tom linked his fingers together and rested his hands on his stomach. ‘I know you’ve got some consulting clients still to attend to, Matilda, but what would be the earliest time you could commence here?’

  ‘Monday.’

  Tom smiled. ‘Okay, great. Thank you so much for coming today. I know it was last minute, but we really appreciate it.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Sam.

  Mitched nodded in agreement. ‘We’ll have a think about what we discussed today and get in touch with you soon.’