Marina Adair - Autumn in the Vineyard

She studied Jonah, who was adding copious amounts of sugar and cream to the cups. “Why’d she call you?”

Although Frankie and her brothers shared a dad, they had different moms. Phoebe was wife 2.0 and quickly learned that loving a man who was clearly in love with his first wife, dead or not, only led to resentment. Especially when that man admitted that marrying a replacement after you’d had the real thing never worked.

“She called me because you haven’t bothered to return any of her messages and when the bank informed her about your latest purchase she got worried.”

She was worried? Frankie knew that her brothers wouldn’t understand why she had to do this, but she never imagined that her mother wouldn’t believe in her. She hated that the only time she felt like a loser was when it came to her family.

“That doesn’t make sense. She hasn’t been on that account since I turned eighteen.”

Jonah set the coffee on the table between them and then seated himself. Resting forward on his elbows, he leaned in, eyes serious and full of concern. Frankie shifted in her seat.

“Katie told her.” Jonah lifted the cup closest to him and took a sip. “Claims that Mom’s name is on the account and she was doing her due diligence by notifying the executor.”

“Shady Katie” was married to Charles’s other grandson, Kenneth, a man who was more interested in the value of the land than actually working it. Unfortunately for him, his dad lost his ass in a pet supply dot-com company and was forced to sell their portion of Baudouin Vineyards to Grandpa Charles and, as Katie so often claims, robbed her Kenneth of his rightful legacy.

“She’s so full of it,” Frankie said, picturing Katie brownnosing the old man first chance she got. “She just wanted an excuse to rat me out to Grandpa. Show him he made a bad decision in choosing me over Kenneth as the enologist for the winery.”

Not that Frankie was Baudouin Vineyard’s head grape expert anymore. Actually, she wasn’t even employed by her grandfather’s company. Nope. Nate had ruined that too.

“Well, she’ll be happy to know that Charles hasn’t spoken to me since the Summer Wine Showdown, when I apparently disgraced the family.”

Then, instead of apologizing, she explained why buying a four hundred acre vineyard when they were already having cash flow problems was a bad move. Especially when said vineyard specialized in bulk wine intended for wholesale warehouses across the country and Baudouin was known for their higher quality and higher price points. That was when Charles told her that her opinions, expertise, and services as head enologist for Baudouin Vineyards—the place she’d dedicated her entire career to—were no longer required.

“Aw, Frankie.” Jonah rested his hand on hers and there it was. That familiar sucker punch to the stomach. The one that reminded her of the scared little girl who, once again, hoped that this was the moment when everything would go back to before the divorce, when everyone pretended that they were a happy family and that she belonged.

Uncomfortable, Frankie dragged her cup closer and studied it so she wouldn’t have to maintain eye contact. It was more milk and sugar than coffee, and was enough to squash the urge to care.

“Is that why you’re doing this? As some kind of screwed up apology?” Jonah asked, his voice steady. It was always steady, controlled. “Or is this your way of proving him wrong for not listening to you about going after the collectors’ market?”

“Neither,” Frankie said. This was about her dream. About making the kind of wine that only the top percent of enologists ever got the chance to make. She was good enough and wanted to compete with the best and this was her chance. “How do you know I’m not doing this for me?”

“Because if you were, you wouldn’t have blown your entire savings on a piece of land that is too small to be anything other than boutique. I know the kind of vineyard you want to run. That land isn’t it.”

Which went to show how little her brother really knew her. She knew he cared, but had a hard time listening. A boutique winery was Frankie’s dream. Had been for the past ten years.

“I didn’t blow all my money.” Just most of it.

She hated how his eyes probed her and how his department issued tactics made her feel like spilling her entire life story. Which would be stupid, because he’d been there for most of the gory parts.

“Good, because I’d hate to find out you were doing all this to prove to Gramps what we already know,” Jonah said softly.

“This is a smart move. It might be a small parcel, but it’s the best in the valley. Plus, Saul had vines. Nothing big, barely a gentleman’s vineyard, but they’re old and well taken care of and about ready to be harvested.” She knew this to be a fact because she had been secretly buying Saul’s grapes for the past three years.

“There is enough to make about four hundred cases and my saplings will be ready for planting this upcoming spring. Until then, Aunt Lucinda’s letting me keep them in the greenhouse,” she said, thinking of the nearly two thousand saplings she’d grown from collecting cuttings that came from her family’s hundred year old vines.

“Those saplings will take at least three years to produce. Another two to age. Even longer if you’re considering collectors and boutique wine shops as your target buyers.”

Frankie stuffed the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m not stupid, Jonah. I’ve done my research and have a respected wine broker interested in buying my entire bottled inventory. As for my wine skills, I’ve been working Grandpa’s vineyard since I could say ‘merlot’.”

“Yeah, well you should still be working it, especially with harvest coming up.” Jonah shook his head. “I give it two weeks before Grandpa comes crawling back. He needs you, Frankie.”

Which was what made this whole situation so screwed up. Charles needed an heir to take over the vineyard and the only one qualified or interested was Frankie. Too bad she wasn’t “man” enough.

“Look, we’ve been talking,” Jonah said. We meant everyone but Frankie had been a part of a discussion about her. “And we all agree that a united front is the best bet. So unless Grandpa apologizes, he’s on his own for harvest. We all walked away from that bullshit once before and we’ll do it again.”

Something she’d do anything to avoid. After her dad passed, his assets were divided among his four kids—all of his assets except the shares in the family business. Those went to only his three sons as per her dad’s wishes.

Frankie was crushed and in a moment of weakness, she did something she’d never done before: confided in someone—who went directly to her brothers. And everything went to hell.

“I never asked you to walk away,” Frankie said.

“I never said you did.” Jonah’s face went from confused to soft understanding. Frankie would have preferred the first. “Is that what you thought?”

She shrugged. What else was she supposed to think? She blabbered to a nosy Italian and her family had imploded.

“Frankie, Dad cutting you out of your shares in the vineyard and Grandpa refusing to equally redistribute them was part of it, a small part.” Frankie straightened. She’d never heard this before. “You were too young to remember, but that vineyard destroyed this family.”

She may have been six, but she remembered. Remembered sitting in the courtroom while her parents argued, her mom demanding custody, her dad saying the boys would be raised with him on the family vineyard. Frankie was too young to determine what words like ‘prenup’ and ‘divorce’ meant, but old enough to understand that she was an object to argue over, just like her dad’s motorcycle and the beach house in Pacific Grove. She remembered the day her parents divorced was also the day their dad had stopped loving her.