Sweet and Sassy Baby Love

by Alicia Street

  He loved this place any time of year, even when there was snow on the ground and the rows of grapevines looked like spindly sticks. There was still plenty to do in the winter. He had completed most of the post-harvest pruning, although that work would likely continue until the March planting he would start in a couple weeks. And since this was a winery as well as a vineyard, Matt spent many hours this time of year in the wine cellars. Checking and adjusting the fermentation process of each wine, topping when too much air got into a barrel, of course racking to permit the wines to stabilize, then fining and filtering and bottling the wines.

  This was the work that Matt loved. This was what he had focused on at Cornell’s College of Agriculture and Life Science where he had majored in viticulture and enology. But even though the winery now had his Uncle Michael working full time on marketing the wines and expanding their operations, his father still insisted Matt show up at business meetings—which Matt hated.

  Tonight’s meeting would be at the other end of the vineyard at the large three-story house—white clapboard with pillared porch and gabled windows, sculpted hedges with an icing of snow—the home where Matthew and Sheila Rocklyn had raised their four sons and daughter. They would meet in his father’s home office after dinner, so at least he would get a meal out of it.

  Matt crossed into an open area that had a pool house and picnic and tables, now barren, a pool that had been covered for the winter, badminton and volleyball nets stored away. This was where his family gathered in the warm weather. If he kept going past the main house he would eventually come to the original farmhouse that was closer to the street. It had been converted into their wine tasting bar that was open to the public.

  Matt wiped his feet in the mud room and strolled into the living room.

  Grant, son number two, looked up from a book he was reading and gave him a lazy-sounding, “Hey, Matt,”

  “Don’t you ever cook for yourself?” Matt said, knowing it was his duty to rag on his younger brothers, even though they were all adults now.

  “Why should I when Mom needs people to eat all the dishes she makes? Especially her favorite son,” he added with a toothy grin. Grant was the only other brother living on the family property now, although the others were not far away. Grant had turned one of the unused barns into an apartment, unlike Matt who’d built his bungalow from scratch.

  Matt turned to see his mother walking toward him, arms open as usual. She looked great for her age, still beautiful, fit and vibrant, her short blonde hair always styled just right, her outfits coordinated and flattering. “Grant says he’s your favorite. I thought that was me.”

  She laughed and swatted his shoulder, then gave him a quick hug. “You boys know I love you all the same.”

  “Are any of my other annoying siblings going to be here?” Matt asked.

  “Not tonight,” she said. “Just your Uncle Michael. He and your father are all excited about some kind of deal in the making.”

  Matt looked at Grant. “Did he order you to sit in on the meeting too?”

  “Nope. Uncle Michael has taken over all the stuff I used to do.” Grant used to work in the marketing end of the winery, but he had also spent many years rescuing horses. He’d been keeping them on the vineyard property, but there were only so many he could manage here and he was now looking for a location where he could set up an equine rescue and rehabilitation facility.

  “Not fair,” Matt complained.

  Grant smirked. “Too bad. As Mom’s favorite I get to eat more. As Dad’s favorite you get to work more.”

  Matt groaned and laughed, but he knew the brother who’d been dubbed the quiet one spoke the truth. Matt knew he was his father’s favorite and, for better or worse, he had been treated as the chosen Rocklyn heir since childhood, which had driven him on and made him strive to meet his father’s expectations in everything he did or said or was.

  The dinner was one of his mom’s classic meals—roast beef, mashed potatoes, creamed broccoli and a cheesecake for dessert. It sure made the simple burgers with frozen vegetables that Matt cooked for himself in his bungalow less appetizing.

  During dinner his mother filled him in on the latest news about his other brothers, Tucker, who ran a bike, paddle board and kayak shop, and Jeff, the orthopedic surgeon, his sister, Kendra, a former dancer and new mom who was also studying marine biology, plus his cousins Shannon, a fitness trainer, and Rainy, an attorney, and Kip, who was a Hollywood stuntman. Then she even told him the latest about his own two-year-old son’s trip to the zoo, since his mom remained close to Nicole his ex-wife.

  She waved a pointed finger at him. “Don’t you start neglecting your son, now that you don’t live in the same house with him anymore.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “I would never do that, Mom. I just saw him two days ago. I would have seen him today, but Nicole had some kind of appointment.”

  What was a family dinner without parents lecturing you? But his mother’s little speech didn’t compare to the surprise bomb waiting for him in the business meeting.

  Matt shifted, trying to get comfortable on the hard chairs around the table in his dad’s office. No doubt his father believed this was a way to keep people alert, but if this were Matt’s study, he would furnish it with cushy leather club chairs and—

  “Matt, are you listening or not?” he father barked.

  Matt Jr. hated the marketing and distribution and promotion and who knew what else that got the wine sold, and he was damn grateful his uncle managed that these days. He much preferred the science of growing the perfect grape and making the perfect wine.

  But Matt Rocklyn Sr. was not only a farmer at heart, he was also one heck of a businessman. A dynamic powerhouse of a man, he had won Olympic Gold as a triathlete, then landed some product testimonial contracts and used the money he earned to rescue his parents’ failing thirty-acre potato farm. He’d bought out his siblings and gradually bought out the bordering farms, kept a few acres for vegetables and a small orchard but turned the rest into a vineyard complete with an Italian winemaker.

  Five years ago the winemaker retired and Matt Jr. took over. At first he had tried to convince his father that this one job was more than enough for him, but he soon learned that his dad’s vision was for his eldest son to take his place running not just this vineyard and winery but all the expanded aspects of the business. As he did.

  “I heard you, Dad. The wine-tasting bar you and Nicole’s father opened in the South Fork was such a success you’ve decided to try another one.” He didn’t want to say it, but Matt would prefer to just sell the wines to liquor stores and restaurants, as they already did clear across the US. But his dad was always itching to try something more.

  “Ever since Forbes noted Greenport as one of the prettiest towns in the country that place has been picking up steam,” Uncle Michael said. He was his dad’s older brother who had been living on the West Coast, but when he lost his job out there, Matt Sr. asked him to come back and work for the winery.

  “So the Rocklyn Winery bought a building right in the main part of town,” Matt Sr. said.

  Uncle Michael nodded. “Like the first one, we will offer a simple menu of light food to go with the wine as well as selling by the bottle. It’s one of the stops on the yachting circuit so hopefully some of those high rollers will take a bottle or a case along with them.”

  His father slid some papers to Matt across the table. “So once you sign these, Michael can finalize the deal with the realtor and owner.”

  That was the other thing that had happened. Four years ago when Matt and his father went on a vineyard tour in Europe, Matt Sr. had a heart attack. Thankfully, he recovered, but when they got home he made Matt president and chief financial officer of the winery.

  Matt took the papers and scanned some of the material.

  “Just ask if you want anything explained,” his Uncle Michael said. His uncle had worked in both marketing and real estate, so he was an asset to the winery.
<
br />   For some reason the address sounded familiar. Maybe it was a place where he’d hung out in his pre-married days. “What was in this building before? Was it a bar?”

  “No, it is currently a bait and tackle shop. On its last legs from the looks of it.”

  Bait and tackle. Now he knew why the address was familiar.

  Jack’s Bait and Tackle.

  Got some bad news today about my dad’s shop.

  His hands clenched in fists under the table. Why did it have to be that building? “Does the owner of the shop know who is buying the building?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So the shop owner will be told to leave?”

  “Of course.”

  “By when?”

  “Our bank should approve a mortgage easily, so closing could be in about one month, two at the latest.”

  Matt pushed the papers aside. “I can’t sign this.”

  “What?” His dad practically jumped out of his seat.

  Matt shook his head. “I know the people who run that shop and I won’t put them out of business.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” His dad sounded incredulous. “Son, this is how it works in the real world. These people can find a new spot to open up.”

  Matt thought about the aging Camry Em drove. “But will they be able to? I think they’re having a hard time.”

  Matt Sr. tilted his head, studying his son, his brows knit. “How do you know these people?”

  “Remember Em, the woman I was involved with before I married Nicole? It’s her father’s shop. He’s had it for many years.”

  “So maybe he is ready to retire,” Uncle Michael said.

  “I doubt it,” Matt said. “And Em told me he was having some problems.”

  “You’ve been seeing this woman again? She was bad news last time,” his father said.

  “No, she wasn’t.”

  “Her mother’s a tramp. Her father’s a drunk, and she was arrested—”

  “At fifteen. A long time ago and all she did was drive without a license.”

  “Is she the reason you and Nicole divorced?” His father sounded irate. “Were you cheating on your wife?”

  “No! Em wasn’t even living around here until a few months ago. And if you don’t know me better than that, what am I even doing here in this room?”

  Matt Sr. stood up and hovered over his son the way he had always done when he wanted to intimidate any of his children with his large strong frame and personality to match. “Do you know how lucky you are to be in this room? To be chosen over your brothers? To be the one who will inherit the vineyard and every business associated with it?”

  “I don’t think any of them envy me. And they will all get their dividends that I will work my ass off to provide.” As soon as he said it, Matt wished he could take it back. The hurt in his father’s eyes was almost too much to bear.

  But dammit, Matt Rocklyn Sr. had so much, and Em’s father had so little. Yes, he knew his dad had worked really hard to build what he had, but still…

  He softened his tone and asked his father, “What if grandma and grandpa had lost this farm back when they were in trouble? What would have happened to them?” He turned to his uncle. “Isn’t there any other property we could buy?”

  “I could look for another property,” Uncle Michael said, “but there is something you’re forgetting. The owner, your friend’s landlord, wants to sell the building. So your friends are going to be pushed out whether we buy it or someone else does. On the other hand, if we buy it, we could try and help them make the transition, give them more time, maybe even find another place and rent this one to them.”

  Matt Sr. gave his brother a bug-eyed look. “Now you sound as crazy as him.”

  With a quiet chuckle, Michael said, “You forget, dear brother, that it was not long ago that I was out of a job with everybody hiring guys much younger than me.

  You’ve had good fortune for so long you’re forgetting what it is like to have bad times and need a break.”

  Matt smiled inside to see Michael standing up to his brother who had overshadowed him with his success.

  But whether Matt Sr. heard him and did not understand or understood but did not care, he shifted into one of his bullheaded expressions and pounded his fist on the table. “These people are not family to me. I do not have to take care of them. As to that girl you diddled, son, you had better learn to think with the head on your shoulders, not the one in your pants. Now you just quit whining like a moon calf and sign those papers right now.”

  Considering what his uncle said about the owner selling the building to someone else if the Rocklyns did not buy it, Matt signed.

  And as he did, that horrible choice he’d had to make four years ago came back to haunt him anew. A choice that had trapped him in a loveless marriage and made him lose the woman he really wanted. Once again he and his dad were on opposing sides of the fence. And once again Em would pay the price if he caved.

  It almost felt as if this was some kind of test from the universe.

  Matt didn’t know anything about that kind of philosophical stuff, but one thing he did know—he was not going to fail Em this time.

  Chapter Three

  Bundled in sweat pants and a few layers of sweaters, Em jogged along Sound Road in the direction of the water. Although the cold air cut into her lungs as she ran, it also made her feel alive, aggressive, determined.

  She had to be. Otherwise she would dissolve into a helpless ball of tears. The bait and tackle shop building being sold, her dad going on a bender, and seeing Matt again were a bit much to take all in one day. She had her freelance graphic design work, but she hadn’t been pursuing that the way she might have. She had instead opted to help her father get the shop into a solvent place and get him into a sober place. Now that it looked like they would lose the shop—with no foreseeable way of reviving it somewhere else—she wondered if she could get a full-time job soon enough to keep her little family afloat.

  Her car being disabled was a good excuse to not allow her father to drive today. She needed to get her daughter to and from daycare, and when her dad insisted he could go into the shop, she insisted on driving him there. The mornings were slow at the shop and Rick would be in by the afternoon, so Em figured she wouldn’t argue with him on going in when she thought he should rest today.

  Besides, she needed some alone time to think and problem solve.

  “Emerson! Hello, Em!”

  Oh no. Nora Wendell. Em had known her since the days when she and Ivy ran around the neighborhood as kids. Nicknamed Nasty Nora, the full-time postal worker and spinster would scream at Em and her playmates to get off her precious lawn the instant they got within ten feet of it. She was also one of the worst gossips with a reputation for not exactly holding back on her blunt opinions of whoever came up in a conversation.

  “Hi, Ms. Wendell,” Em called out, slowing but not stopping.

  “Wait up, Em. Wait up.”

  Could she pretend she didn’t hear her? Then again, maybe it was best Em found out how many people had witnessed the trail her father had blazed last night, going from one bar to the next. Luckily he ended up at Phil’s where that dear man was willing to leave his own responsibilities in order to get him home.

  As soon as Em came to a stop and turned to face Nora, the small but energetic woman rushed to her and wrapped Em in a crusher of a hug. Em’s heart melted and she felt bad for wanting to get away.

  “It was her, wasn’t it?” Nora spat out.

  “What? Uh, who was…?”

  “Louise. Your father’s live-in friend.”

  Em’s hand went to her knotted stomach. Okay, first bit of information clear. News of her dad’s drinking binge was making the rounds.

  Before Em could think of what to say, Nora went on. “Louise dumped him. Am I right?”

  “Well…yeah.” After years of being alone, her father had found a woman he liked and they had lived together for about five ye
ars. But about six months ago she left him and he took it pretty hard.

  “Ran off with another man, didn’t she,” Nora said.

  Em gave a short nod, then stood perfectly still, waiting. If this woman dared to say “just like your mother did” Em was not sure she could stop her hand from swinging out and slapping her.

  But Ms. Wendell just twisted her lips with that told-ya-so disgust and added, “Never trusted that woman. The second I met her I could tell. It’s in the lips. The way they turned down at the corners. A little trick my mother taught me. Keep an eye on the mouth.”

  Once again at a loss for words, Em just nodded, but that didn’t deter Nora from continuing her one-person conversation.

  “Your poor father. No wonder he is drinking again. And after everything that tramp he married put him through.”

  The tramp that happens to be my mother. Who left twenty-two years ago. Are you such a lonely, pathetic leech that you have nothing better to think about?

  Em pressed her lips together to keep herself from shouting at this petty busybody. She spun on her heels and as she headed down the road again she heard Nora calling after her.

  Keep your hugs, lady.

  By the time Em reached 67 Steps Beach and jogged down all sixty-seven steps, she had purged the horrible woman’s voice out of her head along with the bad memories of her mother and now filled herself up with the crisp salty air coming off the Sound, the bright sunlight on the water, and the distant call of birds.

  She loved the beauty of this beach that was all white pebbles with some bigger gray rocks strewn here and there, even some boulders. It had a tougher, more raw and natural beauty than the sandy white bather beaches.

  The ground crunched beneath her running shoes as she walked along the water’s edge and found a large dry rock. She took a seat on it and stared out at the gently rolling waves of the Sound.