The sting came from his own inability to accept what she was saying, even though he knew, deep down, it was the truth. Cold reality.
He nodded but didn’t say anything.
‘I know what you’re going through, Mitch. But whether I can sympathise with you or not, won’t change your path. You still have to tread it. And I’m sorry, but there are no easy roads out of grief. But I will say this …’
She waited until she knew Mitch was really listening. He leant forward anticipating her words.
‘Your heart is more than capable of loving more than one person at the one time. Your store of love for Rachel will never lessen.’
‘You know this?’
She nodded. ‘So do you. Does your love for Sophie take away what you had with Rachel?’
He shook his head. ‘Not one bit.’
‘It’s the same. You have an infinite capacity to love. Don’t be afraid of it. It’s what we’re made for.’
His breaths came harder in his chest as those words strummed on a deep knowingness within him. He had thought his capacity to love was damaged. He had thought that the part of his heart buried with Rachel cut off his ability to love anyone else.
‘You have a think about that and come to your own conclusions.’
He nodded. ‘Thanks.’
Chapter 11
‘I haven’t dated anyone since being home in Alpine Ridge,’ Matilda said, sitting on the edge of the receptionist’s desk. It didn’t even surprise her now how easily she referred to Alpine Ridge as home again.
After working out that she already knew Mandy, who had worked as the vineyard’s receptionist for five years now, Mandy being three grades above her in high school, it was enough to form a fast friendship.
‘No time like the present,’ Mandy said, flicking her dark hair behind her shoulders.
‘That’s what I thought. If I don’t take the step soon, I may lose my nerve altogether.’ Dating wasn’t easy—not off the back of a five-year marriage. Matilda was a social person, but the thought of having to get ‘comfortable’ with a man again sparked a little fear. ‘So Brad Meyers called me last night—’
Mandy’s big blue eyes widened. ‘He did?’
Matilda nodded, loosed a nervous sigh. ‘Yep. We’re going to go out for dinner and drinks on Saturday night.’
The sound of a throat clearing startled Matilda. She whirled to find Mitch standing behind her. He was dressed in outside work attire—faded denim jeans, big boots and a parker jacket. She hadn’t realised any of the brothers had arrived back to the office. After a night of frost, they were a no-show again this morning.
‘Good morning, Mitch,’ she said, aware that she had been caught in the middle of an inappropriate conversation at work and that yesterday was his wife’s birthday and this morning he would have been out assessing the damage to his vines, so he may not be in the best of moods. She could hardly condemn him if he was out of sorts.
‘Morning,’ he said, managed a strained half-smile, then turned to Mandy. ‘Morning, Mandy.’
Mandy smiled, oblivious. ‘Good morning.’
Matilda had Mitch booked out on her calendar for the next couple of hours, starting ten minutes ago, and she wasn’t sure yet if he was going to re-schedule or honour their arrangement.
‘I was hoping you could give me a hand with a phone call,’ Mitch said. ‘Then we can move on to the fun-filled afternoon you have planned for me.’ A little good-humoured sarcasm, which was a good sign.
Her shoulders relaxed. ‘I absolutely can. Just let me grab a pen and notepad, and I’ll meet you in the board—’
‘We’ll just do it in my office.’
Her throat bobbed as his words took on a different definition in her mind. Naughty, Matilda. And not in front of co-workers. She nodded as she met his eyes and saw the glint of understanding that he too had realised the innuendo in his statement.
‘I’ll meet you in there. Mandy, I need you to call our solicitors and organise an appointment for the end of the week.’
‘Will do,’ Mandy said, and Mitch strode off.
Matilda stopped by her office to grab what she needed. Mitch’s office was a few doors up from hers, at the end of the admin building—the lounge room of the original house. A house she had been in plenty. Slept in. Made love to Mitch in.
She wondered how it was for him, working in the house he grew up in.
Mitch was behind his desk looking out at the vineyard through the tall windows. He met her gaze when she strode in and indicated she shut the door. She did so.
‘Come, take a seat,’ he said. He was distracted. But that was expected when so much was happening in his private and professional life.
‘How did last night go?’ she asked.
He gazed at her for a moment too long.
‘With the frost,’ she clarified, realising he had assumed she had meant with Rachel’s birthday ceremony. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Mitch leant back in his chair, hands linked behind his head, elbows out wide. ‘I would say, even with all our efforts—Sam and Tom were up all night keeping the barrel fires alight, trying to ease the temperatures—we’ve lost about half our merlot and reisling fruit. That may be less by the time harvest comes, depending on if new buds come through.’
‘I’m sorry, Mitch. That’s a massive blow.’
He glanced out the window again, his mouth set in a tense line. ‘That’s the business. We’ve had a good run. It was bound to happen eventually.’ He lowered his hands to the table. ‘The good news is that the weather is expected to ease throughout today and tonight.’
She sighed with relief. ‘That is good news.’
‘Meanwhile, I started preliminary talks with another vineyard—they’re little known, but I’ve been keeping my eye on them since I met the owner at a wine show a couple of years ago. He has an exceptional product, and he is a decent man. Similar values to mine. But he’s hesitating to start a partnership. Maybe it’s a bit of pride—wanting to make it on his own merits. I want you to join me on a call to him and show him how this partnership could benefit him. And what you will do to make that happen.’
Matilda nodded slowly, her mind running away with ideas of what she could do in the way of marketing and promotion that would allow this partnership to be successful for both vineyards. ‘Okay, give me all the details first. What type of grapes do they grow? How do you see that pairing with what you make already? How much output per annum? Can they expand? What type of scores are they getting with their wines? Have they won medals?’
Mitch leant back in his chair and grinned. ‘All right. Let’s get into it.’
Over the next half hour, Mitch discussed every aspect of this partnership and what he hoped to achieve from it.
He answered all her questions. It was obvious that Mitch truly understood his business and this industry inside and out.
As he spoke, ideas formed. She wrote down phrases and words and drew pictures on her pad as they appeared. Despite having access to a computer her entire working career, she could never do away with a pen and paper when it came to brainstorming.
‘Okay, I’m ready. Let’s make the call.’
And so they did.
Matilda did all she could to sell this idea to the man on the other end of the line, but even after all that, he didn’t give a definitive answer.
When Mitch ended the call, he blew out a long breath. ‘If he doesn’t come to the party after a phone call like that, then he’s not the man for this deal.’
Matilda could see by Mitch’s rigid posture that the call hadn’t ended how he had expected. He hadn’t received the answer he not only wanted but needed. Despite that, though, he smiled at her, and it was big and genuine and sent a sparking thrill through her.
She remembered that smile—full of admiration and adoration and at one time, love. Her heart pulsed with a desire to see and feel that love again.
‘We needed you here about a decade ago,’ he said.
With a glance away, then back to him, her lips curled into a bashful smile. ‘I’m here now.’
‘Fancy a working lunch?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Definitely. The launch I have planned for the end of the month will now have a double purpose: unveiling your new line but also a showcase for this potential partner. I’d like to discuss final details with you.’
The smile that was filling Mitch’s face slowly faded until he was frowning.
Her brow furrowed, unsure what changed his mood. ‘What?’
He pressed his hands flat on the top of his desk. ‘I don’t know. I guess I’m not completely sold on going in this new direction. I feel like I’m wandering too far off Dad’s intended track by bringing in an outsider. I think with all the rebranding and the new processes, it feels like it’s moving so far ahead I can hardly see his influence anymore.’
‘You have an entire cellar dedicated to your father. This new line will be showcasing your father’s vintages.’
He nodded, but the frown remained.
‘Change is always difficult. It never comes without having to say goodbye to old methods. But in all my promotions, your dad is recognised in every way. Legacy meets innovation.’ She shifted her chair back and gathered her notebook. ‘Come on. I’ve been wanting to keep it secret a little longer, but I think I’ve finished the new logo.’
His brows arched.
‘I’ll show you.’
He followed her down the hall to her office. She sat in her chair while he parked himself on her desk, knees facing towards her so he could see her computer monitor. She clicked open the file of her images.
On the screen was a mock-up of the new bottle labels. ‘Mathews’ appeared in fine gold print across the top third with ‘legacy’ below in curling font. Beneath that was a picture drawn in pencil—faint lines and shading, grey and white. In the background was a mountain, snow atop. In the foreground was a stretching row of full leafy vines dripping with bunches of grapes.
Understated yet proud, a nod to the region without any brashness. The gold-gilded font hinted at quality and expense.
He leant closer to the screen taking in every intricate detail.
She clicked on the next tab that showed an advertisement of the vineyard in spring, resplendent but muted water colours being poured from a wine bottle like liquid beauty. Above that was the new slogan—uncorking our legacy for you. And below, the reworked Mathews Premium Wines logo.
Mitch stared at the screen for a long time. Matilda waited for a reaction. Any reaction. Finally, he looked at her. A flicker of a smile. Pride in his deep brown eyes.
‘I could never have dreamed …’ he stopped, shook his head. ‘It’s everything.’
‘Your dad would be happy?’
He nodded. ‘Definitely. It captures all of the history …’ he broke off, looked out the window at the vineyard. ‘Fills me with pride, you know?’
‘Yeah. I know.’
‘We should show Sam and Tom.’
‘We should.’
‘I’ll text them to meet back here after lunch.’ She appreciated that he said ‘after lunch’. They would still get their time alone.
Was time alone what he wanted?
No. He couldn’t have been clearer that he wasn’t in any kind of shape to even consider a romance.
Sometimes, though, she sensed that he wanted their attraction to progress. He wouldn’t have kissed her otherwise, would he?
Enough. Concentrate.
Regardless of what he thought he wanted or didn’t want, she had to look beyond Mitch Mathews. So, over lunch, she kept it professional. She took her laptop and as they ate delicate ocean trout and salad in the vineyard’s restaurant among day-tripping tourists, they finalised the guest list and other details for the launch party.
‘Now,’ she said tentatively, knowing that this was a delicate topic, ‘I thought it might be a good idea to dedicate the event to Rachel.’
Mitch’s back stiffened as he sat up rigidly beside her. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her.
‘I was wondering if you’d like to say a speech or if you’d like me to prepare—’
He shook his head hard. ‘I thought the last person to want to exploit Rachel would be you.’
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. ‘I beg your pardon? Exploitation was the farthest thing from my mind,’ she growled through clenched teeth. ‘I thought you would want to include Rachel in the celebrations considering the theme of the night is honouring the family legacy.’
Her hackles were up, perhaps more acutely than she would have liked, but she would not be accused of something like that.
Mitch blew out a long breath, closed his eyes. ‘I’m …’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Fuck,’ he hissed.
She watched him, equally incredulous and curious. What a reaction to such an innocuous suggestion.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last, voice deep and throaty. ‘I have a bit of history of jumping the gun where there might be potential Rachel is being used for dishonourable purposes.’
She scoffed and pushed to her feet, busily tidying her things. ‘Dishonourable? Well, now I’ve heard everything. When you’ve got an apology that isn’t backhanded, you’ll know where to find me.’
‘I wasn’t calling you dishonourable … it was the only word I could find … It wasn’t directed at you.’
She spun and started to stride out of the restaurant, but he stood and gripped her wrist. ‘Matilda. I’m sorry. I honestly did not call you or your suggestion dishonourable. Please, sit down. Let me explain.’
She huffed out a breath but went back to her seat nonetheless.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. His gaze was deeply apologetic. ‘I stupidly accused Tom and Amy of exploiting Rachel soon after she died. I guess I’m still a little cautious. I had assumed they were being dishonourable when it was so far from the truth. I nearly destroyed our family because of that thinking. When you asked if we could dedicate the night to Rachel—a night that is designed to launch our product—I instantly, stupidly, went back to that old thinking.’
She sighed, leant closer to him. ‘Mitch, I know that marketing and PR and the business I’m in has a bad reputation. And quite rightly. But I can promise you, everything I do for this vineyard, for you, your brothers and your family, is honourable. I want the best for your business, and I will do everything I can, within my skillset, to make that happen. Every publication, picture, promo, and interview will only ever be done to show the world how great a family you are and the wonderful product you produce together. I know I lightheartedly said I was going to take advantage of your—’ she swallowed and didn’t meet his gaze as she said, ‘—handsomeness, but it was in jest. I’m more concerned with your heart, passion and ability. Rachel was a part of that for many years. I wanted an opportunity to honour her contribution too.’
Mitch squeezed his eyes shut as he groaned. ‘I am the biggest arse. I hate that I’ve forced you to defend your position. I apologise. I’m deeply sorry. I am.’
She shook her head, frowned. ‘I accept your apology. But, Mitch, unless you’ve good reason to, don’t question my integrity again. I’ve copped enough of it over the years because of the name my profession has, but I won’t take it from you.’
Maybe a little harsh, but she was at her wit’s end with comments about exploitation and manipulation and button-pushing. The things clients, employers and co-workers had expected her to do over her career, usually the exploitation of women and children, so that they could make money was dumbfounding and heartbreaking.
But she never approached her profession in that way. She wasn’t going to perpetuate the current system of male-think sex-dominated advertising. Sure, she had to work a little harder, be more creative with her campaigns, but she had also earned a great reputation and was able to collaborate with innovative and forward-thinking businesses over the years.
He met her gaze and real apology lit his eyes. ‘I won’t.
’
‘Good,’ she said and got to her feet, gathered her gear and went back to her office. She needed a little time to breathe after that.
Later that evening, she logged her computer off, grabbed her purse and started down the hall. She glanced into Mitch’s office as she passed. He was standing. His keys tinkled as he gathered them from his desk and shoved them into his pocket.
‘You off?’ he asked, catching her eye.
She nodded.
‘Let me walk you out.’
The others had left earlier, but she got stuck finalising media releases for the product launch dinner that she had to send out tomorrow morning at the latest.
She burst out through the front doors into the cool afternoon air and wrapped her coat quickly around her. ‘This weather is ridiculous.’
‘Had you forgotten what it’s like up here?’
She smiled. ‘I must have.’
They strode side by side towards the car park. A seriousness overcame his features. His spine was more erect. ‘I’m really sorry about what happened at lunch today.’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about it. We don’t have to mention it again.’
He nodded. ‘Thanks.’
His harsh silence suggested he wanted to say more. ‘It was Rachel’s birthday yesterday and as much as I try not to let things like this overwhelm me, it usually ends up that way. I snap at at least one person. Not that it’s an excuse.’
‘Like I said, Mitch, don’t worry about it.’
They walked for a while longer in silence.
Mitch shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘So you’re going on a date with Brad Meyers this weekend?’
Keeping her reaction as closed as possible, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. ‘I am. Do you know him?’
His lips were drawn into a straight line. ‘I do.’
‘I vaguely remember him from school. He’s a bit younger, so I wasn’t really looking at boys that age,’ she said with a laugh.
He smiled—something that was meant to be a smile—but didn’t laugh. Was he upset about this? She frowned when she gazed across at him. ‘Why? Is there something I should know about him?’
Sweet From the Vine Page 11