The Vineyard at Painted Moon

by Susan Mallery

  “No. Just no.”

  She spoke without thinking, taking a step away and staring at him, fighting the oddest sensation of having no idea who he was. Yes, they’d been married, but they’d divorced over a decade ago. What was she doing, having sex with him a couple of times a year, whenever it happened to fit into his schedule? She didn’t want that, or him.

  Why had she agreed to their sad arrangement? Ignoring the gross thought that she had no idea how many other women he slept with on a regular basis, didn’t she deserve better? Didn’t she deserve to be happy, with her own robust life? Instead she’d settled on ex-husband crumbs tossed her way. Kyle was a distraction, and one she’d allowed to go on for too long.

  “You don’t have to say it like that,” he grumbled, sounding defensive. “Just tell me you’re not interested.”

  “I’m not interested.” Her voice was firm. “We talked about this before, Kyle. I said I was done and I meant it. Stop trying to get me into bed. I won’t do that anymore. We’re divorced. We should act like it.”

  With that, she walked away, looking for a safe group to join, then smiling when she spotted her kids talking to Lori.

  “Having a good time?” she asked as she slipped between Avery and Carson.

  “We are.” Her daughter laughed. “Mom, I can’t believe you didn’t even hint about the proposal. It was so romantic. Even if they are, you know, old.”

  “Ancient,” Stephanie teased. She turned to Carson. “What did you think about what happened?”

  Her fourteen-year-old surprised her by grinning. “It was cool, Mom. Romantic, like girls want. Plus, it takes some, ah, courage to ask that in front of everyone. What if she’d said no? He would have been humiliated for life.”

  “Love gives you courage,” she told him.

  Avery sighed. “Great. Now she’s going to make you watch that old movie she loves so much. What’s it called?”

  “Say Anything,” Stephanie and Lori said together.

  Avery groaned. “That’s the one.”

  “I am kind of feeling it’s time,” Stephanie admitted.

  “Do it quick,” her daughter said. “Before Carson goes off to baseball camp. I don’t want to get stuck being the only one who has to see it.”

  “You loved it.”

  “You wish.”

  Carson yawned. “It’s late, Mom. I’m going to bed.” He hugged her.

  Her baby was four inches taller than her already and he still had a lot of growing to do. Of course, she was short, but still.

  Avery hugged her, as well. “See you in the morning, Mom.”

  “Night.”

  She watched as they made their way across the patio and went into their house, then she smiled at her sister. “Having a good time?”

  “I was until the engagement.” Lori’s tone was sharp.

  “I thought you liked Giorgio.”

  “I do, but now everything is going to change.”

  “I don’t think he’ll mind you living in the house, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, Mom would never make you move out.”

  Lori’s expression tightened. “Oh, please. We both know she’d throw me out in a heartbeat if it served her purposes, or if Mackenzie asked her to.” She exhaled sharply. “It’s not that. Did you see how in love they are? I knew they were happy, but the look on her face when he proposed...I want that.”

  “To get married?” Stephanie tried to keep the surprise out of her voice.

  “Of course. Everyone wants to belong. Some of us know when we should keep what we have rather than throw it away.”

  “Are you talking about my divorce?”

  “You had something with Kyle. Maybe you should have stuck with what you had.”

  “A cheater who was never home?”

  “It was a marriage.”

  “We were both miserable. Besides—” Stephanie pressed her lips together. She didn’t need to defend her position to anyone. “It’s better now,” she said. “With us apart. But if you’re interested in dating, I hope you meet someone.”

  “Nothing good ever happens to me.”

  With that, she turned and walked away. Stephanie watched her go, wondering how she and Lori and Four could be sisters when they were all so different. She supposed it was just one more thing that proved God had sense of humor.

  She walked over to an empty chair and sat down. While the rest of the family were allowed to leave any time after ten, she was stuck for the duration. The party was her responsibility and she had to make sure everything was cleaned up and put away. She would be up until at least two in the morning.

  On the bright side, she was apparently done with her ex. It had taken ten years and a cosmic slap in the face, but at least it had happened. First thing tomorrow, she would start looking for a job that excited her. She’d finally escaped from the trap of casual sex with her ex. Now it was time to escape from the family business and strike out on her own.

  four

  Mackenzie carefully studied the wine in the glass before taking another sip. This time she let the liquid sit on her tongue a bit longer before swirling it in her mouth and then spitting it into the coffee mug she’d brought with her.

  Barrel tasting was essential so she could keep track of the progress of the wine, but getting drunk while doing so was a rookie mistake. She’d learned early that spitting came with the job. She picked up her clipboard and made a few notes. Later she would transfer the notes to a computer file. Old-school, for sure, but it was how she preferred to work.

  This corner of the barrel room held her personal wines—blends she’d created because she’d had an idea and had wanted to see how it played out. The first three times that had happened, Barbara had flat-out refused and then had told Mackenzie to stop asking. Frustrated, Mackenzie had told Barbara that if the wines didn’t do well, she would cover the losses with her salary. But if they sold the way Mackenzie expected, she would get a cut of the profits for as long as the wines were made.

  Barbara had agreed, drawing up a contract they’d both signed. Two years later the first of the Highland wines had been released. Highland Thistle—named in tribute to Mackenzie’s Scottish ancestry—had sold out in two weeks. She’d used a more French style of blending the cab and merlot grapes, giving Thistle a softer finish that was appealing to a younger crowd.

  The following year Highland Heather, a nearly botanical chardonnay, had sold out before the release. Last year, Highland Myrtle, a Syrah, had done the same. At that point, Barbara had stopped telling Mackenzie no on pretty much anything wine related. Still, the three wines provided a steady flow of money every quarter. The proceeds were currently just sitting in an investment account, but someday she would do something with them.

  She reviewed her notes, then tucked the clipboard under her arm and headed for the offices on the second floor.

  Bel Après had grown significantly over the past sixteen years. They’d always had enough capacity to produce more wine, but previous winemakers had sold off hundreds of tons of grapes rather than risk creating a new wine that failed. When Mackenzie had come on board, she and Barbara had come up with a strategic plan using the best of what Bel Après produced.

  As she took the stairs to the second floor, she glanced at the awards lining the wall. Bel Après had started winning awards with Mackenzie’s very first vintage, and Barbara had been giddy with the success. She’d wanted to enter every competition, but Mackenzie had insisted they be more selective. Better to place in a few prestigious competitions and get noticed rather than win awards no one had heard of.

  Bel Après had been written up in journals and magazines, driving sales. Every year they’d expanded production. Ten years ago, they’d tripled the size of the barrel room.

  She reached the top of the stairs and paused to look at the pictures mounted there. They showed Bel Apr�
�s as it had been a generation ago, when Barbara had been a young bride. From there, all the way down the long hallway, photographs marked the growth of the winery and the family.

  She smiled at a photograph of Rhys with his three sisters. He looked to be about ten or eleven with the girls ranging from nine to maybe five. The girls were all smiling and mugging for the camera, but Rhys looked serious, as if he already knew how much responsibility he had waiting for him.

  He’d grown into a good man, she thought. He worked hard, was a fair employer and came home every night. Rhys was her rock—his steadiness freed her to send all her energy into the wines.

  Mackenzie’s parents had died when she’d been young, and her grandfather had raised her. He’d been a winemaker up in the Spokane area of the state, and she’d grown up understanding what it was to wrestle magic from the soil.

  He’d gotten sick when she was fifteen—a cancer that could be slowed but not cured. Sheer will had kept him alive until she’d graduated from high school. He’d died that summer. Mackenzie still remembered the first day she’d moved into the residence hall, meeting her new roommate. Stephanie had been friendly and upbeat and exactly what Mackenzie had needed.

  That first Christmas, Stephanie had brought her home. Mackenzie had been overwhelmed by Bel Après, dazzled by Barbara and swept away by Rhys.

  He’d been so steady, she thought, smiling at the memory. Kind and strong, but with a sly sense of humor that made her laugh. Her second night there he’d knocked on her door at two in the morning, telling her to get dressed. He’d taken her outside, where unexpected snow fell from the sky. There, in the cold, dusted by new snow, he’d kissed her. It had been a perfect moment. She might not have fallen in love with him then, but she’d certainly cracked open her heart to the possibility.

  She was still smiling at the thought when she walked down the hall, through the open door and into Barbara’s large office. The corner space had huge windows that overlooked the property. The other two walls were covered with maps of the various vineyards owned by the family.

  The Barcellona family was a dynasty. If Mackenzie and Rhys had had children, her blood would have blended with theirs, adding to the whole in some way. But they hadn’t, so when she was gone, there would be no legacy. No piece of her to be found anywhere.

  Except in the vineyards, she reminded herself. She had made her mark there. The wines of Bel Après owed what they were to her.

  “Tell me good news,” Barbara said, motioning to one of the chairs pulled up in front of her desk.

  Mackenzie took a seat. “Rhys has been checking the Seven Hills drip system. The weather’s getting hotter and I want to make sure there’s enough water to protect the vines. I’ve spent yesterday and today barrel tasting. I’ll get you my notes by tomorrow.”

  “We have that very expensive software system for your tablet,” Barbara told her with a gentle laugh.

  “Yes, and maybe one day I’ll want to use it.”

  “You can be stubborn, Mackenzie Dienes.”

  “I get that from you.”

  The teasing between them was familiar—they both often mentioned sharing traits, despite the lack of blood relationship. Even looking at the two, a stranger would assume they were related.

  Both were about five six, with dark red hair. They had strong, lean builds and wore an air of confidence. Mackenzie’s eyes were green, while Barbara’s were brown, but otherwise, they could easily pass for mother and daughter.

  Stephanie, Lori and Four all took after their father in looks, as did Rhys. They had dark hair and brown eyes. Rhys was tall, but the sisters were on the shorter side, and curvy, with Lori the closest to plus-size.

  Mackenzie flipped through her notes. “The ’18 reserve cab is coming along nicely. It’s already lush, with plenty of forward fruit. It’s going to be dense, and it will cellar at least fifteen years. It’s going to be big. We’ll want to put some aside for competitions and at allocations for wine club. I’ll want at least ten percent of the bottles for the library. This wine is going to score high and get snapped up quickly. We can sell the remainder in five years for at least double the original price.”

  Barbara leaned back in her oversize chair and smiled. “You said it was a great year.”

  “It was. We had perfect conditions and a harvest to match. I want to hold it an extra three months before we sell it.”

  “What? No! You can’t. The reserve is already scheduled to be bottled and we’ve told our wine club members when to expect it. There are events that—” Barbara pressed her lips together. “Mackenzie, you’re being overly cautious.”

  “Three more months. I promise, it will be worth the wait.”

  “It had better be,” Barbara grumbled. “Do you know the costs of keeping that many barrels in storage?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Down to the penny. She might not run the business side of the winery, but she knew all the numbers.

  She heard familiar footsteps in the hallway and smiled. Seconds later, Rhys walked in. He crossed to her, bent down and kissed her lightly on the mouth, before greeting his mother.

  As he took his seat next to Mackenzie, he said, “You were right about the Seven Hills irrigation. Several of the drip lines had been chewed through. How do you know when stuff like that happens?”

  “I just get a feeling.”

  Bel Après had acreage all over southwestern Washington State and into Oregon, from Red Mountain to the Walla Walla Valley and south to Seven Hills. The different areas had distinct characteristics that influenced the grapes. Mackenzie liked working with the various topographical challenges each vineyard offered.

  Everyone was hot for Red Mountain, and she thought the vineyards there were special, as well, but she could make her magic just about anywhere. She supposed her ability to go with the flow, so to speak, was because she didn’t own any of it. She was married to Rhys, but as for her work at Bel Après, she was simply an employee. She got a paycheck twice a month, along with quarterly royalties from her Highland wines, but at the end of the day, she worked for Barbara.

  Her house was part of the Barcellona family compound, her truck was winery property. She supposed if she were to suddenly pack up and leave, she could fit everything that was actually hers into a handful of moving boxes and be gone in a few hours.

  An unexpectedly sad thought. Not that she was going anywhere. This was home. Rhys was her husband, Stephanie was her best friend and Barbara was pretty much the closest thing to a mother she’d ever had.

  She was a Barcellona, she reminded herself. In spirit if not in name. She was a part of the fabric of the family. If sometimes she thought about how nice it would be to buy a few acres just to play with, well, that wasn’t going to happen.

  There were more footsteps on the stairs. Stephanie and Four joined them. Stephanie sat next to Mackenzie and immediately started talking.

  “Carson leaves tomorrow. I don’t think I can let him go.”

  Mackenzie grabbed her friend’s hand and smiled. “You do this every summer. He’s been going to baseball camp since he was eleven. Yes, you’ll miss him, but it’s for the greater good. Let him go. It’s what he wants.”

  “You’re being rational. I find that offensive.”

  Mackenzie laughed. “No, you don’t.”

  Stephanie’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Okay, I don’t, but why is this so hard? I thought it would get easier. But every summer it’s just as painful to know he’s leaving.”

  “You love him and you like having him around.”

  “I know. I suppose part of it is that he’s gone the whole summer. When he gets back, we’re two weeks from school starting. Why does camp have to be so long?”

  Barbara turned toward them. “Dear God, Stephanie, let it go. We’re all aware that you have trouble setting your children free. Catherine, say something about the cyc
le of life or the universe having angels to take care of teenage boys.”

  Four smiled. “You’ll have more time with Avery. Maybe plan a girls’ weekend in Portland or something.”

  Stephanie brightened. “You’re right. That would be fun. Thank you.”

  “Order restored,” Barbara said dryly. “Hallelujah.”

  She waved her hand as she spoke, her new engagement ring catching the light. Mackenzie leaned forward and touched her hand.

  “I didn’t get to see your ring up close, at the party. It’s lovely.”

  Barbara splayed her fingers. “I’m still getting used to it, but yes, it is fabulous. Giorgio chose well.”

  “In his choice of bride as well as his choice of jewelry,” Rhys said with a grin.

  Stephanie glared at him. “Suck-up.”

  Barbara sighed. “Children, please.”

  “Have you decided on any wedding particulars?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Something with the family over the holidays,” Barbara told her. “I’m not sure. I was thinking small, but now I’m leaning toward ostentatious.”

  “You should,” Mackenzie told her. “You’re so very much in love. Everyone can see it.”

  Barbara’s expression softened. “What a lovely thing to say. Thank you.”

  Lori walked in with five folders in her hand. Mackenzie didn’t bother waiting for Barbara’s pointed look. She rose and excused herself.

  “I’ll be home right after,” Rhys said, taking the folder from his sister and opening it.

  She nodded and waited to see if he would look up from the family’s monthly financial report, but he didn’t.

  “Close the door behind you, Mackenzie,” Barbara called.

  She did as requested, then retraced her steps to the first floor. As she stepped outside, she calculated how many of those meetings had taken place since she and Rhys had gotten married.

  And it was just family. Mackenzie had never attended a single meeting, nor had Jaguar, Four’s husband. Nor Kyle, when he and Stephanie had been married.