Back To Us (Shore Secrets 3)

by Christi Barth

  “You mean my parents?”

  “No. Appearances. That thing that you get waaaaay too wrapped up in some of the time. He didn’t want to look like a failure to us. Ward’s still haunted by failing at his dream of an athletic career. The way his father failed at every farming attempt he made, and became a laughingstock in the eyes of the town. The way he failed you. So no, he didn’t plan to tell us about the big expansion until he had a green light.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Piper denied.

  “Is it? We would’ve supported him. Hugged him. Made him that seven-layer dip he likes so much to cheer him up. But wouldn’t there have been a little part of us that sighed and judged him?”

  “Maybe.” Oh, God. If Piper wasn’t careful, she would turn into her parents. Judging everyone on face value. Rating wealth and popularity over true happiness. “Shame on us.”

  Ella held out her own hand and slapped the back of it. “Exactly.”

  “How could he risk telling you about the wind farm when the only reason you agreed to date him again was to get that land for your port line?”

  “That’s not the only reason I agreed to the experiment,” she denied hotly.

  With a sad and yet patronizing smile, Casey said, “Of course not. You love him.” She pointed at herself and Ella. “We know that.” Moved both arms to point at Piper. “You know that.” Then flipped her hands palms up and shrugged. “But does Ward know it?”

  Crap. How could she yell at Ward for not being honest when she hadn’t been wholly honest either? Not intentionally. Only to protect herself. But her reasons weren’t any more valid than his. Piper had been playing games. Letting him think that he had to woo her, when from day one she’d been head over heels in love with him. In fact, what she’d done was possibly worse than everything he’d kept hidden put together. Piper let her head drop onto her knees. It hurt both her knees and her forehead, but she deserved it.

  A soft hand stroked down her back. “Piper?” Worry coated Ella’s voice like the fuzz a good, tannin-heavy wine put on her tongue. “Are you okay?”

  “Not at all,” she mumbled.

  “What do you need?”

  “A swift kick in the ass.”

  “You’re sitting on it. Would a good, hard pinch on the arm do the trick?” Casey offered through gurgles of laughter.

  “Funny. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stick with the soaking wet and grass-stained ass on my pants as immediate punishment.” She raised her head. “I’ve been an idiot.”

  “Been there. Done that.”

  Ella’s arm shot straight up in the air. She waggled her fingers like an annoying teacher’s pet. “Me, too.”

  “You guys, I don’t know if this is fixable. I said some pretty horrible things to Ward. In fact, I don’t even know where to start with the fixing.”

  “Apologies go a long way.”

  “That’s definitely on my to-do list. I need more, though. I told Ward that words weren’t enough. He needed to prove how he felt with his actions. Which means the same goes for me.” Figuring out how? That was the problem.

  “When we were in high school, it was easy.” Casey winked. “Send a candygram during fourth period. That always proved your feelings.”

  High school. That was where all this got started. Weird that they’d just gone back there a few days ago...”Oh my gosh. That’s the key.”

  “A candygram? I think when adults are concerned, it’s more appropriate to send a singing telegram.”

  Ella rolled her eyes. “Those are only appropriate for milestone birthdays. Ward’s not turning fifty anytime soon. And I guarantee he’s not going to react well to a guy dressed up in a gorilla suit holding balloons singing about how sorry Piper is.”

  Shifting up onto her knees, Piper said, “I’m not talking about singing telegrams. Although, how funny would it be to get two gorillas dressed up like a bride and groom to serenade Dawn and Joel when they get back?”

  “I love it!” Casey squealed.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking. It took balls of steel for Ward to face all his demons by going back to be honored at Homecoming in front of the whole town. He didn’t know it would go even a fraction as well as it did.” And Piper was so darn proud of him for toughing it out. God, she loved him to pieces. “If he can be that brave, so can I.”

  Casey toyed with the end of her braid. “I swear I’m paying attention, but nobody in town has a stick up their ass about you like they used to with Ward. So I still have no idea where you’re going with this.”

  “This whole thing started because I want to make Grandpa Will’s port line a reality. I fought tooth and nail to make it happen. Except...I never really fought the person that mattered the most. When my dad said no, I rolled over. I didn’t want there to be any appearance of family discord at work.”

  Ella’s eyes widened, looking like discs of bottle-green sea glass. “You’re going to stand up to your father?”

  Even though it sent a roil of queasiness from Piper’s belly up her throat, she nodded. “Ward’s pulled in too many directions, what with the desire to expand, the wind farm offer and his sister’s demands, not to mention the guaranteed backlash and reversion of the town to general hatred should he accept the offer. I can’t solve any of those issues, but I can take away his guilt from not giving me the land for my port line. I’m going to make Dad let me do it on Morrissey land.”

  “He shut you down before. Hard, as I recall,” Ella said with a comforting rub of Piper’s arm. “How are you going to make him change his mind?”

  “Sheer perseverance.”

  Casey snorted. “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “It’s all I’ve got. So it’s got to be enough.”

  * * *

  The combination of determination and desperation that fueled Piper didn’t blank out the strategic part of her brain. So she took the time to go home and change into work attire first, rather than charging up to him in her damp yoga pants and fleece. Dad preferred—well, insisted—that she dress like a successful vintner at all times. That meant slipping into a teal-and-black marled skirt paired with a black sweater, teal scarf and knee-high black boots. Her only jewelry was the silver-and-pearl bracelet Grandpa Will gave her for graduating from college.

  The chunky heels of her boots clattered against the floor of the tasting room. Yep, determination was noisy. Piper didn’t care. She headed back to her dad’s office. Thursday mornings were the only time he was guaranteed to be in there, as the finance office held him hostage until he’d signed all the checks. It always put him in a bad mood. Didn’t matter. She was about to turn it from bad to worse.

  Although knocking felt anticlimactic, Piper forced herself to perform that particular courtesy. No need to annoy him over little things when she was about to drop a doozy in his lap.

  “Come in.”

  Sure enough, a stack of checks sat at his right hand. The pen at his left. Her father was ignoring all of them for as long as possible, as usual. A golf blog on his monitor held all his attention.

  “Dad, I need to ask you for something. Not a favor, per se. I’m going to call it an opportunity.”

  “You sound like you’re trying to sell ice to Eskimos.” He glanced up. “Did one of our vendors get you all excited about a new brand of cork?”

  “I’m excited, all right. Excited at the chance to turn Grandpa Will’s dream into a reality.” Piper tossed her hair back. Squared her shoulders. “Dad, I need you to let me move forward with his port line.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  His automatic response was expected, so it didn’t take any of the wind out of her sails. “See, there’s where this conversation stalled out the last time. Or rather, that’s where your email cut off. But I’m not giving up so easily.”

  “Piper, this isn’t up fo
r discussion. It’s a vanity project. Neither a serious money-maker nor something prestigious enough to waste the vine space. It would pull focus from the Morrissey range of wines.”

  Voice calm and even, Piper said, “I promised Grandpa Will.”

  He tapped a finger against the leather blotter. “Exactly. You promised. Not me. And you’ve got no way to fulfill that promise.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Casey and Ella had made a good point that tenacity alone probably wouldn’t get the job done. So Ella had scrabbled together a plan. One which only worked if her father hadn’t had time to catch up on local gossip. Since her parents had just returned last night from a week-long trip to St. Barts, there was a chance her long shot would work.

  Patrick rubbed at his temple with a tired sigh. “Piper, don’t play games. I know you’ve run around all the Finger Lakes, trying to scrape up some acreage. And you know I put the kibosh on that. Morrissey Vineyards won’t be diluted by merging with any other winery.”

  “You’re right. It won’t be diluted. It would be strengthened. So if you won’t give me the land, I’ll merge with Ward Cantrell. Produce my port line with him.” If he knew that she and Ward broke up, all this would elicit from Patrick was a muffled snort.

  The wheels of his chair clattered across the floor as her father shoved backward to stand up. “Damn it, Piper, don’t you see? That’s what he’s always wanted from you. The Morrissey name. That’s all he’s ever wanted.”

  “Gotta tell you, Dad. There are days when it feels like that’s all you’ve ever wanted from me, too.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” But something flickered across his eyes, a tightening that Piper would’ve missed if she’d blinked. Was it possible that her father regretted some of his hard stances? That he was more than aware that he hadn’t always treated her fairly?

  She rounded the desk, pushing into what might only be an imaginary weakening. “Besides, you’re not listening. It won’t be called a Morrissey Ruby Port. Grandpa Will picked out the name himself. Meditrina.”

  “What?”

  “She was the Roman goddess of wine. There’s even a festival called Meditrinalia to celebrate the harvest in October. Grandpa discovered it when he went to Italy. He fell in love with the name.”

  “You’re not using it. You’re not letting that Ward Cantrell blemish us even by association.”

  “You can’t stop me. This is my line in the sand. Either you let me produce the port line—here or with Ward—or I quit.” She pulled an envelope from her teal alligator-patterned handbag. “My resignation is in here. It’s entirely up to you whether or not I hand it over.” It was a bluff. Piper still didn’t know if Ward would accept her apology. If he’d give them another chance. But she did know that it was about damn time she stood up to her father. Hopefully he’d be so surprised by the threat he’d have to capitulate.

  Except that he didn’t look surprised. He just blinked once and said, “You can’t quit.”

  Piper could play hardball. She might not be the son he’d always wanted, but she could be every bit as strategic and gutsy when it came to business as any man. “I love working here. I’ll miss it horribly, but we can’t go on like this. You’re not even here most of the time. You don’t have the right to make a decision like this on a whim. Would it be our biggest profit margin? No. Not for several years, that’s for sure. But it’s important. I loved Grandpa Will. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make his dream come true. Including quitting.”

  “You can’t quit,” he repeated.

  “Dad, you can’t stop me.”

  His face contorted. His teeth worked at his lips. “Shut the door.” Leather squeaked as Patrick sank bank into his chair.

  Wow. This had to be a good sign. He probably wouldn’t want the staff to hear him apologize. Piper hadn’t expected him to capitulate so soon. She closed the door, then returned to stand in front of the big walnut desk.

  “You can’t quit,” he forced out between gritted teeth, “because you own half the winery.”

  Piper reached behind her. Made sure the chair was lined up and she wouldn’t fall on her ass. Then she let her numb knees give way. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your grandfather left you his half of the winery. In his will.”

  She gaped at him. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  “Bruno Nichols gave me the heads-up before Dad was even buried.” His Adam’s apple worked up and down as what she could swear was regret darkened his eyes. “You were so upset, Piper. You wouldn’t eat. This after staying at the hospital for a week straight. Your mother and I weren’t sure you’d hold up through the funeral.”

  “But I did.”

  “Yes.” Patrick’s hands moved restlessly in a sweeping motion over the desk. “Well, I ran into Bruce on the course the day before the funeral and mentioned what a state you were in. He didn’t want to complicate your grief with spreadsheets and legalese. I agreed. So Bruno asked me to tell you. When you were ready to deal with it all.”

  “Grandpa died two years ago. I came back to work the Monday after the funeral. Since then I’ve represented Morrissey at nine different wine festivals across the country. Went on a girls’ weekend to Manhattan. Threw an epic New Year’s Eve party. I’m not sloughing around in mourning garb, Dad. What exactly, in your mind, would constitute readiness on my part to hear this news?”

  “You’re excellent as tasting room manager, Piper. There’s no need to upset the apple cart now.”

  “Oh, I’m way past upset.”

  “Your mother and I thought—”

  She leaned forward, fingers digging into the desk. “I don’t care what you thought. I don’t want to hear the justifications you two cobbled together, year after year. To a certain extent, I don’t care about the legalities of it or the money. Do you realize how much it means to me that Grandpa Will trusted me, had enough faith in me, to hand over his share of the winery? Do you know how much solace that would’ve brought me?”

  “I...we...didn’t look at it from that angle.” He reached out to grab her hand. “I promise you, Piper. This isn’t a conspiracy. At the beginning we didn’t think you could handle it. Then it just got easier not to open it all back up.”

  If only he’d stopped before tacking on that last sentence. “Half actual concern, half laziness. I get it.” It was a great way to sum up the way her parents had treated Piper for her entire life. And that truth actually drained a little of the white-hot anger away. She couldn’t expect more from her parents. They weren’t capable of it. Their values, the way they lived their life, made them happy. Starting today, Piper wouldn’t judge how they achieved their happiness. Because she’d no longer let them judge how she achieved her own. She stood.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the tasting room. To do my job. One in which I appear to have a much more vested interest, suddenly.”

  Patrick’s eyes fixed on the white envelope she’d inadvertently dropped on the desk when she sat down. “Are you quitting?”

  “Absolutely not. I also don’t plan to stage a coup. Or revamp everything that’s already producing award-winning wines.” She opened the door, purposefully. Raised her voice, just as purposefully. “But I think the entire staff will be thrilled by our announcement that we’ll begin implementation of the Meditrina line the moment this year’s harvest ends.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Nerves, excitement and dread churning in his stomach had Ward pacing the gravel lot behind the opera house. They were deep enough into October now that he buried his hands in the pockets of his fleece. Not cold enough yet to keep people home, though. Good thing. He was already pushing the envelope with this emergency town meeting by disrupting people’s Friday night plans. Hopefully their burning curiosity would lure them away for an hour from beer and baseball playoffs. One thin
g he could count on was everyone needing to know what everyone else was doing.

  Lori turned the corner and beelined right to him. She looked unhappy. As expected. What he didn’t know was how she’d take it out on him. Ward stood stock-still and waited. She stopped about two feet away. Didn’t say a word. But then Lori’s shoulders started to shake beneath her leather jacket. Her face crumpled. The moment the first tear appeared, Ward gave in to instinct and pulled her into his arms.

  “Rich left me,” she wailed. And clung to Ward super tight, face pressed against his chest. The crying sucked, but the hug was a nice trade-off.

  “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t, of course. He and the guys hadn’t ordered Rich to leave Lori behind when he split town. But Ward had encouraged him to think long and hard about what sort of commitment and future he and Lori would share now that they weren’t going to have the cushion of a fat payday from Ward. It’d been obvious that Rich only saw Lori as an open checkbook. So Ward was sorry she was miserable, but happy that she could get on with her life now.

  “He said that a glorified groupie was just dead weight on the band.”

  What a jackass. Didn’t have the balls to break up with her honestly, so he insulted her? “Want me to go beat him up?”

  Lori pulled back to look up at him. “A little. Actually, if he wasn’t already on the road to Vermont, that’d be a definite yes.”

  “You’re better off without him.” Just like in the old days, he gave a gentle yank to the bottom of her hair. “You’re beautiful, Lori. I bet you’re still as funny as I remember, too. You can do way better than that loser.”

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Sniffled a couple of times. And then, surprisingly, her lips quirked up at the corners. “He was bad in bed. Over and out before I even knew it. You bet I can do better.”

  God. How was he supposed to respond to that? Ward remembered Lori as thinking all boys were dumb and smelly fifteen years ago. No way could he stand here and listen to her talk about her sex life. They had lots more catching up to do before that level of comfort kicked in. Or maybe, as her big brother, he got a pass on ever discussing it. That’d be good.