The Vineyard at Painted Moon Read online

  Barbara glared at her. “Have you lost your mind? Why would I want to do that?”

  Stephanie grinned. “You wouldn’t. My point is it’s been a long time since we had a wedding in this family. When Mackenzie and Rhys got married, they wanted something simple. Only friends and a few family members.”

  “I remember,” Barbara said, remembering the small but elegant event. She and Mackenzie had planned it all together, from the menu to the music. Mackenzie had even recycled Barbara’s old wedding dress into something more stylish. “It was beautiful.”

  “But small and low-key,” Stephanie pointed out. “You’re going to want to make more of a statement.”

  Her daughter’s perception surprised her. “You’re right—I am. Not gaudy, of course, but with maybe two or three hundred people.” She drew her lips together. “Nothing rushed, like your wedding.”

  Stephanie startled her by glancing at her watch and chuckling. “Ten minutes, Mom. Impressive. I thought it would take you at least twenty to bring up the fact that Kyle and I got married because I was pregnant. It’s nice that we can still surprise each other.”

  “Are you being smart with me?”

  “Would I do that?” She was still smiling as she pushed the magazines across the table. “These will help you get into the wedding swing of things. Once we know when, where, and how many guests, we can start narrowing down options.”

  Barbara nodded. “I want the wedding and reception here,” she said. “Of course if it’s over the holidays, it has to be indoors and I’m not sure we have a big enough space for that. Yes, you’re correct. Those are the three most important decisions.”

  She paused for a moment, then added, “Don’t talk to your sisters about this. I don’t want either of them influencing you. Lori has the taste of a kangaroo and we all know that anything Catherine suggests would drive me mad.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re the bride, so you decide.”

  Barbara eyed her. “Are you seeing anyone? If you’re not, you might want to get on that. You’ll want a date for the wedding.”

  Stephanie laughed. “So that’s the reason I should start seeing someone?”

  “It’s as good a reason as any. Plus, it’s nice to have a man in one’s life. I’d forgotten.” Giorgio made her feel so many wonderful things, and not just in bed. Although she wouldn’t discuss any of that with her daughter. “Let me know if you get involved with someone and it seems serious. I’ll have him investigated.”

  “I can’t decide if you’re kidding or not.”

  “I’m not kidding. Why would I kid? If you get involved with someone and there’s a chance the relationship might go somewhere, we will need to know about his background. Who is he? Who are his parents and siblings? What about his past? Is he a criminal? Did he do drugs?”

  “You’re assuming I couldn’t figure that out for myself. Why would I date a drug-dealing criminal?”

  Barbara waved away the question. “This isn’t about you, darling. It’s about being safe. I had Giorgio investigated when I realized we were going to be seeing each other when we came back to the States. It’s a sensible thing to do.” She smiled. “Giorgio understands how things are. He’s already offered to sign a prenup. I didn’t have to ask.”

  “How romantic.”

  Barbara narrowed her gaze. “Despite what you think, it’s very romantic. Giorgio loves me and wants to take care of me. Not just in bed, but in every way, including protecting the family and the winery. I would think you would appreciate that. The land and the children are what matter.”

  “In that order,” Stephanie said dryly.

  “Children leave. The land is forever. But speaking of children, is Avery still seeing that boy?”

  “Alexander?”

  “Is he the blond one? Is he the least bit intelligent? You’ve talked to her about birth control, haven’t you? We don’t need another unplanned pregnancy in the family.”

  “Wow, Mom. When do you slow down enough to catch your breath?”

  Barbara heard the hint of annoyance in her daughter’s tone.

  “I know you don’t appreciate me butting in,” Barbara said sharply. “But I’m saying all this for your own good, and for Avery’s. You’ve always been a decent mother. This isn’t the time to relax and simply let things happen. You have to stay firm and guide her.”

  “Because that worked so well for us?”

  Barbara stared at her daughter, not sure if the comment was meant sincerely. She looked at the wedding magazines and the linen samples and knew they still had the rest of the meeting to get through. Perhaps she should back off and make her case another time.

  “You turned out very well,” she said, trying to sound gracious. “I’m sure Avery will do the same.”

  “Interesting.” Stephanie hesitated, as if not sure she was willing to pass on the fight. Then she nodded and pulled a large piece of paper out of her tote bag and unfolded it. After smoothing it on the table between them, she pointed to the floor plan of the tasting area, the retail space and all the private rooms.

  “Having a wedding between harvest and late spring means it has to be indoors. We have the private event room, which is big enough for a reception of up to a hundred people.” She pointed to the room on the drawing. Small circles represented tables.

  “You said two to three hundred people, which makes more sense to me. This is the wedding of Barbara Barcellona—people will be fighting for an invitation.”

  Barbara hoped that was true.

  Stephanie continued. “So I had a crazy idea. If we use the event room for the ceremony, we can easily fit in three hundred guests. Then we’d hold the reception in the tasting and retail space.”

  She put down another large sheet of paper, showing the floor plan of that area and where the tables would go.

  “We can move out all the inventory and the shelves, and empty most of the wine. I think it will take three days to get everything ready and three more days to put it all back. Assuming the wedding is on Saturday and no one works on Sunday, we’re talking about having the tasting room closed for just over a week.” She smiled. “It’s up to you, but knowing how much Bel Après means to you, I wanted to find a way to give you the wedding of your dreams right here.”

  Barbara touched her daughter’s hand. “It’s lovely. A wonderful idea. Yes, let’s do that. Then I can have my holiday wedding.”

  Maybe the Saturday before Christmas, when the tasting room was decorated to look like a winter wonderland. She and Giorgio could then have a beautiful tropical honeymoon for a couple of weeks. Three at the most.

  She thought briefly of his claim to want to have her to himself for three entire months. How ridiculous. There was no way she could be gone that long—she had responsibilities and a life. But three weeks would be perfect. Maybe they could go to that place with the little huts on the water. She would like that.

  “Great,” Stephanie said. “I’ll start working on specific dates and pulling together some ideas. You’ll want to start thinking about your dress.” She tapped the magazines. “You’ll get a lot of ideas in these.”

  Barbara eyed the magazines and enjoyed her sense of anticipation. “I’ll start looking at them tonight.”

  “I look forward to hearing what you ultimately decide.” Stephanie scanned her tablet. “Do you want bridesmaids?”

  Barbara tilted her head. “I never thought about that. I could have my four girls.” Her mouth tightened. “But only if I get to pick what everyone wears.”

  Stephanie would look good in anything, she thought. As would Mackenzie. “Avery is old enough to be a bridesmaid, but Galaxy and Eternity are too young. No, just the adults in the ceremony. When does Avery start applying for college? Is it this fall?”

  “She’s only a junior. She applies next year.”

  “What is she thinking? I know WSU i
s the closest and most obvious, but it might be good for her to go out of state. Get some fresh ideas. UC Davis has an excellent wine program.”

  “She hasn’t said she wants to go into the family business, Mom. Let her come to that on her own.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It has to be Avery. Carson isn’t going to have anything but baseball in his head. If not her, then who? Do you really expect me to turn Bel Après over to Catherine’s wild children?”

  “One of them might have the passion for it, Mom.”

  Passion my ass, Barbara thought grimly. The way those children were being educated, she wasn’t sure any of them even knew how to read. There was no way they would be prepared to run Bel Après.

  “Back to the wedding,” Stephanie said, waving a picture of a large four-tiered cake. “There are so many options with cakes these days. Traditional, of course, but also cupcakes.”

  Barbara looked at her. “You can’t distract me with cake. I’m not five.”

  “But I can try.” She put down a picture of a wedding cake made up of cupcakes, which was much nicer than Barbara would have thought. “These could be super cute.”

  Barbara raised her eyebrows. “Does anything in my life inspire the phrase ‘super cute’?”

  “No, but it could become a thing.”

  Barbara surprised herself by laughing. “Fine. We can talk about cupcakes as much as you want, but I’ll be ordering a traditional cake.”

  eight

  Monday morning Stephanie walked through the retail area that shared space with the tasting room. It was early—barely after eight. The tasting room didn’t open until ten and the staff didn’t arrive until nine. For the next hour the lack of customers and employees meant she could work in peace and get a clear idea of what had sold over the weekend.

  Summer was busy at the winery. Tourists flocked to the area, standing four and five deep at the tasting bar and snapping up the glasses, tea towels and other kitchen and barware they offered. Printed inventory sheets gave her an up-to-the-minute accounting of sales. The more expensive glassware moved briskly, as did the wine openers, foil cutters and stoppers. But the real winners in terms of volume were the tea towels.

  They regularly stocked six different designs, with a rotating seasonal stock. All the towels had an excellent markup, so much so that even on sale they were profitable. Barbara hated the tea towels, but she couldn’t argue with the money they brought in. Sometimes Stephanie chose an especially whimsical design—just to annoy her mother. More often than not, it sold better than any of the more traditional designs. This summer she’d gone with a floral and ladybug theme, and based on the numbers, they were kicking some serious retail butt.

  The tasting room at Bel Après had been remodeled four years ago. They’d increased the square footage, doubled the length of the tasting bar and added more retail items. Stephanie had wanted to include a small café in the remodel. Nothing fancy—just delicious food that could be taken off the premises or enjoyed on a few tables she’d wanted to put outside, in the shade.

  She’d put together a business plan, including costs and sales projections. She’d even come up with a sample menu that included picnic baskets filled with things like ham and figs, gourmet sandwiches, and grilled corn with flavored butters and salads.

  A lot of the larger wineries in the area offered lunches to go and she knew they were successful. But Barbara had simply shaken her head and muttered something about Stephanie’s delusions of grandeur before moving on to the next item on the agenda.

  Stephanie supposed that was when she’d stopped trying to grow her end of the business. Her mother was in charge and all Barbara cared about was the wine. So Stephanie found pleasure in small things, like ladybug tea towels that her mother found annoying. Not her proudest moment, but sometimes it was all she had left. Occasionally she opened the idea files on her computer and researched things like how to expand into the Chinese market. She’d put together an entire package on enticing Chinese tourists to visit the area, with Bel Après as the highlight of the trip. She knew it was a waste of time—her mother would never consider it. But there were days when Stephanie wanted to do more than go through the motions.

  Leaving was the obvious solution, she told herself. She thought about what Mackenzie had said—that in this part of the state wine was king. She did know the industry, but could she work for a competitor? That would be a fight to end all fights. She supposed the very sad but realistic bottom line was that she wasn’t willing to take on her mother. Which left her completely trapped. And if that wasn’t grim enough, she knew she had only herself to blame.

  With that depressing thought on her mind, she retreated to the break room, where she’d made coffee when she’d first come in. She poured a cup and walked to the window that overlooked the shaded grassy area dotted with a handful of picnic tables the employees used on their breaks. She imagined the grass replaced with pavers, some kind of pergola providing additional coverings, an outdoor wine bar and nicer tables and chairs.

  “Not this week,” she murmured to herself. “Or ever.”

  “Stephanie?”

  The sound of Mackenzie’s voice broke through her self-pity party.

  “In the break room. There’s coffee.”

  Her sister-in-law walked in and tried to smile. Stephanie took one look at her and knew something was wrong. Mackenzie’s normally bright eyes were red—as if she hadn’t been sleeping or, worse, she’d been crying. Her skin was pale and there was a slump to her shoulders that wasn’t anything Stephanie had seen before.

  “What?” Stephanie demanded. “Something’s happened. Tell me.”

  Instead of brushing off the concern, Mackenzie motioned to one of the tables. “We should sit down.”

  Stephanie’s stomach dropped and her body went stiff. There was something and it was bad. She knew it. Her mind searched for possibilities. Mackenzie didn’t have any family, so there wasn’t an unexpected death. Was it medical? Had Mackenzie had a doctor’s appointment with bad news? No, it was early on a Monday morning—she couldn’t have gotten news today and if there’d been something last week, she would have mentioned it sooner. They’d seen each other like five times during the weekend.

  When they were seated across from each other, Mackenzie cleared her throat. Tears filled her eyes before she blinked them away.

  “You’re scaring me,” Stephanie said, reaching for her hand. “Just say it.”

  “It’s not awful,” Mackenzie said quickly. “I mean it is, but it’s not lethal. No one knows and I don’t want anyone to know. Not yet. I’m still processing.”

  Stephanie stared at her, waiting, her sense of dread growing.

  “Rhys and I are getting a divorce.”

  The words took a second to sink in. Stephanie heard them but couldn’t understand what they meant.

  “You’re not,” she said. “You can’t be. You’re fine.”

  Mackenzie’s mouth twisted. “I wish that were true. Things haven’t been right between us for a while. We’ve drifted apart, and somewhere along the way, we lost our marriage.”

  “No.” Stephanie pulled back her hand. “No, you didn’t. You’re fine. I’ve seen you together and it’s like it always was. You were dancing at the party.”

  This wasn’t happening. She didn’t want it to be happening. “You can’t get a divorce. That will change everything. We’re sisters. You live here. You’ve always lived here. You can’t change it.”

  Even as she spoke, she knew she was getting it all wrong. This wasn’t about her—this was about Mackenzie—but no matter what she told herself, she couldn’t get past how the news rocked her world.

  “We’re a family. We have traditions. We have Girls’ Night and we work together. I see you all the time. What about family dinners and my kids? Are you just going to walk away from that?” Another thought occurred to her—one that was
more shattering. “Are you leaving? Are you leaving Bel Après?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead. This just came up a couple of days ago and I’ve been trying to deal with it. I wish you could understand that this is horrible for me. I’m devastated. Rhys and your family and Bel Après are all I know.”

  Stephanie stood. “Then make it stop. Get counseling. Fix it. Don’t get a divorce. You’ll change everything and it will be terrible. How could you do this to me?”

  Mackenzie stared at her, wide-eyed. Anger replaced the sadness. “This isn’t about you, Stephanie. I just told you my marriage is over and all you can talk about is how you feel? What about me? Rhys is the only man I’ve ever loved and we’re splitting up. I might lose my home and my job, and you want to talk about Girls’ Night?”

  Mackenzie stood. “You’re my best friend. How could you be so selfish? I thought I could count on you. I thought you cared about me. I’ve been wrong about everything.”

  The words were a slap. Shame overrode the shock, bringing Stephanie back to reality, but before she could say anything, Mackenzie was gone, leaving only the realization that nothing would ever be the same again.

  * * *

  Mackenzie couldn’t decide if she felt more sick or more drained. She’d thought she was handling the situation well, dealing and trying to figure out the next step, but all that had gone to crap when she’d tried to talk to Stephanie. Her friend, her best friend, hadn’t been there for her, leaving her feeling desperate, alone and afraid.

  Despite the hot morning and sunny skies, she was cold. Every part of her still hurt and she couldn’t quiet her swirling mind. Under other circumstances, she would have assumed she was coming down with something, but she knew her symptoms had nothing to do with a summer virus and everything to do with the painful realization that the solid ground she’d always counted on was about to become quicksand.

  She fingered the lush green leaves of the grapevines. The canopy would soak up the sun and turn that light into nutrients to feed the clusters of grapes. It also protected them from the powerful rays. This she understood. This made sense to her. Everything else was a terrifying morass of confusion.