Sweet From the Vine

by Jacquie Underdown

  He shook his head. ‘No, he’s a decent enough guy.’

  ‘Then what? You look … worried.’

  A fleeting smile appeared, but as soon as it arrived, it was gone. ‘No. Not at all. I overheard … It’s nothing. At all.’

  She arrived at her car but didn’t hop inside just yet despite the cold chill soaking through her jacket. She rested her backside against her driver’s side door. Mitch stood in front of her.

  ‘My divorce finalised last week,’ she said.

  ‘Oh? And how are you feeling about that?’

  She sighed. ‘Honestly, disappointed.’ She didn’t mention that she had a cry in the shower after she’d opened the paperwork. ‘But it was a well-timed jolt that I needed to move forward with my life.’

  He trailed the toe of his boot along the bitumen. ‘Sure. With Brad Meyers,’ he said, unable to keep the disdain from his voice.

  ‘I knew you had a problem with him. Tell me. If I’m about to go out on a date with a loser, you are obliged as my friend to warn me …’

  ‘It’s nothing like that,’ he said, words impatient. He tugged a hand through his thick dark hair. His eyes were intense, apologetic, when they fixed on her.

  ‘Then what?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m jealous.’ Those words were quiet, but they reached her like a scream.

  She baulked, lips parted as they awaited commandment from her brain to move. ‘You’re jealous?’ she whispered.

  His face twisted then straightened. ‘Yes. I’m jealous.’ He took a step back, turned away from her as his shoulders hunched and he swore. When he swung back to face her, his expression was one of torment. ‘I’m so confused, Matilda.’

  She pressed away from the car, took a step towards him. ‘Funny that. You’ve left me fairly confused too.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘And that’s all I seem to be able to say to you because that’s how I feel every second of the day.’ He reached for her. She focused on his face as he watched his own hand. It hovered centimetres from making contact with her cheek.

  Then with a sigh—something resonant of relief tangled with resignation—he stroked his thumb across her cheek. Her eyes closed as the tenderness of his touch ignited deeper sensations within her.

  His hand fell away from her face. Cold where he once was. ‘I don’t know how to be.’ She opened her eyes and met his pained expression. ‘I want to move forward too, but I can’t seem to move my legs.’

  He took a step back.

  To Matilda, he seemed pretty good at moving those legs—away from her.

  She sighed. ‘You’re not ready, Mitch. And this is really messing with my emotions.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to …’

  ‘Let me make it easy for you … for us. Okay?’

  His eyes widened with anticipation of her next words—both nervous anticipation and hope shadowing them.

  ‘You need the time and the clarity of mind to sort through your past relationship without the complication of how you feel about me. So, from now on, I’m off limits, okay? Because this back and forth … it hurts. And I’m not going to do it anymore.’

  He nodded. ‘I understand. And I’m sorry. Again.’

  ‘Don’t be. You’ve nothing to be sorry about. This situation is complicated, it’s difficult to know how to act.’

  ‘Yeah.’ His voice was gravel and it strummed on the deepest muscles in her belly. But she ignored those sensations. Going forward, she had to ignore all the feelings she had for this man because he was more than a little broken and if she wasn’t careful, that’s how she would end up too. There would only be heartbreak in her future.

  ‘Good night, Mitch. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,’ she said, then climbed into her car. She didn’t meet his eyes as she reversed and headed up the track out of the vineyard.

  Matilda marched through the front door of the family home.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Dad asked from the lounge, the news blaring in the background from the television.

  They were having a dinner tonight, her brother and sister-in-law and two nephews included. But Matilda came straight after work so she could give Mum a hand with the cooking. It was old-school rules as far as her parents were concerned.

  ‘Men,’ she said. ‘You are truly complicated creatures. I have no idea why women cop all the flack throughout history. It’s you guys who are difficult to work out.’

  Dad chuckled. ‘Your mother is in the kitchen. I’m sure she’ll be happy to jump on board that train.’

  She went to him and kissed his cheek. ‘But it’s good to see you.’

  ‘You too.’

  She kept on to the kitchen, needing her mother’s expertise.

  Mum was at the sink peeling potatoes when she walked in. ‘Hi, darling,’ Mum said brightly, then frowned. ‘Oh dear, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Mitch Mathews. He’s infuriating. Here, let me do that,’ she said to her mother, moving her out the way with her hip.

  ‘Be my guest.’ Mum went to the stove top where she stirred something that was bubbling and smelled incredible in a big pot. ‘Mitch Mathews. Now that’s a name that has been mentioned many times in this household.’

  Matilda picked up a half-peeled potato and continued to run the peeler along the remaining skin. ‘That’s the problem. We have all this history. And there is obvious chemistry. But he’s …’

  ‘Not ready?’ Mum asked turning to face her, hand on her hip.

  ‘Not quite. And I really can’t deal with his erratic emotions. I don’t know which way is up and which way is down.’

  ‘He’s got a lot to work through, Mati. It’s only been a relatively short time since you’ve been home. He’s not going to make decisions about love after such a big loss so quickly. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality.’

  ‘I understand that. What I’m saying is I don’t want to be pushed and prodded while he makes up his mind.’ She placed the peeled potato a little too hard into the bowl of water beside her and was splashed in the face. She growled as she wiped away the wet.

  Mum was beside her now, a concerned expression. ‘What’s the real problem?’

  She pressed both her hands to the bench and lowered her head as she sighed. ‘It hurts to have these feelings for him and yet see him so wrapped up in another woman.’

  Mum nodded as though of course that was the issue. ‘I see. And why does that bother you?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it? After all these years, I still have feelings for Mitch. Strong feelings. There, I admitted it. It’s out there now. But I can’t compete with the shadow of his wife. Her hold is much too strong. Even if he were to let me in, I’d be in a relationship of three—me, Mitch and Rachel. Call me selfish, but that’s one too many.’

  Mum rubbed Matilda’s arm. ‘He won’t ever stop loving Rachel. He will always grieve for her. But once he is ready, he will be able to love another again while holding that love for his wife. You could have a wonderful relationship. I’ve seen it many many times with people who have lost their spouses. But, you would have to make space for Rachel. Just like you would if they had simply separated.’

  She shrugged. Not quite the same deal, but she understood what she meant.

  ‘With the problem of his bereavement aside, would he be worth pursuing?’ Mum asked.

  Matilda picked up a potato and began peeling it. ‘Definitely. I know him, his heart, his mind—that hasn’t changed.’

  ‘His life is different now, though. He has a small child. A lot of responsibility at the vineyard.’

  ‘I can adjust to that.’

  ‘Then it really comes down to you, Matilda. You need to decide if he’s worth waiting for. And you need to decide if you’re capable of sharing his heart with his ex-wife.’

  Matilda blew out a long breath. ‘I guess I’ll have to think about what I really want and what I’m willing to accept.’

  Mum shrugged. ‘Yes, I guess so.’

  She didn’t fail to con
sider that, essentially, when Mitch let her go after high school to live her life, he had given her fifteen years of time to make up her mind.

  Since seeing him that first day at the vineyard when she looked into his big brown eyes, she had the niggling notion that perhaps, in a small way, she had really come back to Alpine Ridge for him.

  She was ready for him, but he wasn’t ready for her in return.

  Chapter 12

  The three weeks leading up to the launch dinner were more hectic than Mitch had ever experienced on the vineyard. Even amidst the thick of harvest, they had down time but not this week. Not a single moment. With so many reporters and television crews about to embark upon the vineyard, the cleaning, preparation and maintenance of the vineyard and winery ate into their schedules.

  Nothing could be done for the frost-damaged vines. After a few sunny days, the full extent of the injury was apparent as the buds began to dehydrate and shrivel.

  Since then, secondary shoots had begun to sprout, but this season’s yield would still be devastatingly compromised.

  Not intervening now would maximise this season’s yield, but it would produce lower quality pruning material in winter and potentially lower bud fruitfulness next season. Always a knock-on effect that could rebound for many years.

  They would have to leave extra buds when they pruned next winter and hope next season the fruit came back as healthy as ever.

  But that was stress to consider later.

  Right now, the launch filled his mind and every moment.

  Painstakingly handling every aspect of this event had kept Matilda busy too. They spent a lot of time together, swapping plans, making decisions, preparing promotional content, but it was always too hectic to dwell on the moment they shared that afternoon in the car park.

  She had let him off the hook by stating she was off limits. He knew exactly why she had done that. But it hadn’t changed his inner-turmoil. And once this function was over and the chaos subsided, and he had the time and space of mind to reassess where he stood with her, it was going to hit him like a storm.

  Over the last few weeks, working closely alongside Matilda, his admiration for her had grown, especially when she handled the tempest sweeping through the vineyard with utmost poise.

  Nothing was more attractive to him than a capable, intelligent woman who didn’t baulk at putting him in his place when he rudely went outside respectable limits.

  Matilda smiled at him from across the boardroom table. ‘Are you all right there, Mitch?’

  He shook his head, snapping back to the present moment. Had he been staring at her all this time? ‘I’m fine.’

  His brothers chuckled, and he wanted to punch each of them both hard in the face.

  ‘What time is the TV crew arriving?’ he asked.

  ‘In twenty minutes.’

  A renowned wine show based in the UK was coming through this morning. It would be the first time the cellar had ever been shown to the public, let alone millions of television viewers.

  But, as Matilda had said, they needed to expose that magic, that legacy, which sat between those cold stone walls for decades, if people were to truly understand what this wine launch was all about.

  As all the pieces of her campaign came together and the story of this vineyard was shown, Mitch saw that Matilda totally understood the culture here. She understood his mind and heart, exactly like she had said she did.

  Every picture and slogan and piece of content said one thing: Our family is what is most important and second to that is making quality wine.

  Today’s crew were going to have exclusive inside access to the deepest inner-workings of the vineyard. Mitch had dealt with many reporters and film crews over the years, but it had always been at arm’s length. Today he was nervous because they were about to delve deeper.

  ‘I’ll be there with you three,’ Matilda said. ‘We have everything organised. This time next week, it will all be over.’

  This afternoon was a community dinner with guests from the local town as well as important people in the wine community. Their partners at In the Spirit liquor stores were attending. Celebrity chef James Ballard was catering the event and would do a cross-promotion, his own TV crew filming it all.

  Local and national news reporters were stopping in to shoot footage and conduct interviews. There was definitely a buzz of anticipation—a ground swell that was growing and would hopefully culminate come December when they shipped their wines to retailers.

  Mitch and his brothers were dressed similarly in long grey slacks and crisp long-sleeved shirts—casual yet stylish. And as they spoke to the film crew and conducted interviews, he realised how limited they had been by not having their own marketing manager. Everything they said now had a purpose and was on-theme with their newly minted, streamlined brand.

  By the time two-thirty arrived and the honoured guests started to show, dressed in similar themes of casual yet outside-picnic-elegant, Mitch was ready to wind down. He had speeches to deliver and was to unveil their new labels and branding, but after that would be an afternoon spent in the company of good friends.

  Many of the locals attending were those he had distanced himself from of late—not because he didn’t appreciate them, but since Rachel had died, he had retreated from living in general to some extent. So along with this dinner being a step forward for the vineyard, it was also a step forward for him—a re-immersion into the small community.

  After finishing filming for the wine show, Mitch freshened up and headed to the location this afternoon’s event was taking place—at the back of the admin building where a spectacular view of the mountains was showcased.

  Matilda had been back and forth between his interviews and the event space all day. He thought she may have been nervous trying to juggle the hectic schedule, but she wasn’t. The hurried activity seemed to enliven her and bring out her best.

  As she took charge, he considered how much of an asset she was. And how much he and his brothers—especially him—had needed to loosen their hold and control on every single aspect of operations and give over areas to people who could actually do a better job.

  Yes, Mitch and his brothers were irreplaceable when it came to nurturing the vines and growing the grapes—the entire business wouldn’t exist without that kind of expertise and attention—but the business side, specifically the promotional side, was never his strong point.

  When Mitch strode over the small mound near the admin building and peered down at the long table set up on a big grassed area beside a broad row of vines, he was awestruck.

  ‘Holy hell,’ he whispered under his breath.

  The vines were still bare, but small green bursts of leaves alongside the buds were starting to appear like small brushstrokes of colour amidst the woody vines and trestles.

  Never had he seen a set-up more beautifully detailed. The table was at least twenty metres long, dressed in crisp white table cloths. A myriad of place settings with silver cutlery, crystal wine glasses, a bread plate and a rolled linen napkin tied with a gold chain and decorated with a single olive leaf sat side by side along the table’s length.

  Before each place setting were perfectly positioned rustic timber chairs. Down the centre of the table were raw planks of timber fitted with three naked light globes that were lit up. Interspersed between the planks were boxes of pastel-coloured flower arrangements in lavender, white, pale pink and magenta.

  But what drew his attention was above the table. Strung from the rusted metal beams that ran the length of the table, set two metres in the air, were bundles of naked lightbulbs dangling from various lengths of rope.

  Matilda was talking to Ellie, who had obviously supplied the flower arrangements, and when she turned and saw Mitch, she smiled.

  Mitch shook his head hoping to convey his awe, and mouthed, ‘Incredible’.

  Her grin expanded and his breath thinned in his throat to see her beauty shining even more brightly than the surrounding aesthetics. Ne
ver, not even in his fondest memories, had he recalled seeing Matilda look so stunning.

  She must have got paler highlights in her auburn hair, which shone under the afternoon sun. Her hair was curled a little around her shoulders.

  Her eyes were lined with dark black, highlighting the vividness and almond shape of her hazel eyes.

  Each curve of her body was pronounced by the tight, knee-length beige dress that clung to every inch of her. It plunged low at the front exposing some cleavage—not so much that it was no longer professional, but enough to spark Mitch’s imagination.

  Various film crews were already setting up to the side. A big screen was being installed to the back of the table, which would display all their announcements in images.

  His chest expanded with pride as he strode to meet with Matilda.

  ‘Hi, Ellie,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘These arrangements look incredible.’

  Ellie smiled. ‘Thanks, Mitch. It was a pleasure making them.’

  He turned to Matilda. ‘And you! This looks …’ he stopped, trying to find words that would convey how fantastic this all was. ‘Unbelievable. Magical.’

  Matilda grinned wide. ‘Magical is exactly what I was going for. I’m glad it’s being communicated.’ She arched a brow as she gave him the once over. ‘And don’t you look the part.’

  ‘Well, you did choose what I was to wear.’

  Ellie giggled. ‘Matilda has great taste. Anyway, I better get back to the shop. I will see you both later this afternoon. Good luck.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Mitch said.

  ‘Thank you so much for all your help today,’ Matilda said.

  Ellie gave a little wave and strode off leaving the two of them.

  ‘Where are the others?’ Matilda asked.

  He glanced at his watch. ‘They should be on their way now. Sam is giving our potential new partner and his wife a personal tour of the establishment, just so he knows exactly who and what they could be signing with.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Matilda said.

  ‘And Tom was finishing up with Channel Three reporters out the front of admin when I left him.’