“Why? What is it?”
“I used the landline to call home this morning to check on Morgan and Ben.”
He took a step closer. “Did something—”
“There was a fire,” she whispered. “Last night in the tasting room.”
Griffin’s head swam as he tried to process her words. His world, which minutes earlier had seemed so steady and sure, tilted on its axis, then plummeted to the ground, splintering into a million tiny shards.
“No.”
“I’m sorry, Griffin.”
The words came to him through a tunnel of denial, hollow and tinny. He was so damn sick of apologies.
“You can use the phone in the living room to call your mom. My dad didn’t know how serious the damage was. He heard from—”
“Stop.” He held up a hand. How could he call from here when there was nothing he could do to make it better? He had to see it with his own two eyes. “I need to get back there. Now.”
To her credit, Maggie didn’t argue or offer platitudes. “I’ll grab my keys.”
He followed her into the house, only pausing to turn off the stove and unplug the coffeepot before heading toward her car parked out front.
“I’ll drive,” he told her, and she only hesitated a moment before tossing the keys to him.
The idyllic cabin grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and Griffin had a vile suspicion that his happiness was fading away at the same time.
As soon as they hit the main highway, his phone began to buzz and vibrate, a flurry of missed texts and voice mails coming through.
“We have service,” Maggie said, pulling her phone from her purse. “Do you want me to—”
“No.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I want to get home.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching him, fingers squeezed tight around her cell phone. Of course she wanted to find out what had happened at the tasting room, and he knew he sounded crazy. So much anxiety could be alleviated with one quick phone call.
But this unknowing, the teeth-clenching worry, was part of his penance. Whatever caused the fire had happened when he was away. He’d come home for one purpose only—to prove that his dad had been wrong about him. Griffin wanted to make amends for the pain he’d caused his mom all those years ago. To show that he was worthy of being a part of Harvest Vineyards’ legacy. Now history was repeating itself, and he hadn’t even been there to deal with the disaster.
Had the fire started from a faulty electric wire or something else to do with his work? If he’d been at the barn last night, he might have seen a plume of smoke rise from the tasting room. He might have saved the building the way he hadn’t been able to as a teenager.
But he’d been with Maggie, blissfully unaware of anything except his own desires. His father had called him selfish and irresponsible, and maybe those words had been truer than Griffin could stand to admit.
The minutes ticked by as the landscape outside the car went from forest to farmland, the only sound the intermittent chirping from both of their phones. Finally, he pulled into the long, winding drive that led to Harvest.
Heart hammering in his chest and breath coming out in unsteady puffs, he steered the car up the hill toward the tasting room. He felt the weight of Maggie’s hand on his arm, but his skin was numb to her touch.
The building came into view, and it was like looking at history come to life all over again. One side of the building remained intact but the southeast corner of the structure was nothing more than blackened boards and a pile of wet ash on the ground.
Several cars were parked in front of the building, and he could see his mother, Marcus and Trevor standing to one side.
He parked and got out of Maggie’s car, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat.
“Was anyone hurt?” he called and felt relief hit him like a tidal wave when his mother shook her head.
“The fire department got it contained within an hour,” she reported as he approached.
“Hope you had a great getaway,” Trevor said drily. “Once again leaving the rest of us to clean up your mess.”
Jana raised a hand before Griffin could respond. “Don’t do that, Trevor. This isn’t Griffin’s mess. The fire would have happened whether he’d been here or not.”
Trevor didn’t look convinced, and Griffin couldn’t blame him. “What caused it?”
Marcus stepped forward so that he was standing between Griffin and Trevor. “They think it was a candle that got knocked over.”
“We don’t have candles in there,” Griffin said. “It’s a construction site.”
“Someone was trespassing last night,” Trevor reported, and Griffin frowned as his brother shifted to look at Maggie. “One of the neighbors saw a red Jeep racing away from the property when he let his dog out before bed. Mom saw the flames just after eleven.”
“You think Morgan had something to do with this?” Maggie’s voice was high and tight. “That’s a bold accusation, Trevor.”
“She was here yesterday.” Jana wrapped her arms tight around her middle. “I’m sorry, Maggie, but I heard her fighting with the Maren boy when I was taking my evening walk.”
“Cole wanted some extra hours so I knew he was here.” Griffin moved closer to the fire-ravaged building, reached out to run his fingers over the charred wood.
He glanced back to see his mother nodding. “They were out here. I didn’t think much of it until Fred mentioned the Jeep.”
“Morgan didn’t cause the fire,” Maggie said, stalking forward. “You can’t accuse her of this without proof.”
“No one’s accusing your sister,” Marcus said gently.
“But it’s suspicious,” Trevor added.
“Why would she do this?” Maggie demanded. Griffin turned as she jabbed a finger at Trevor. “You don’t want this tasting room to open. I know you want to see your new grand fancy building take its place. Maybe you’re trying to frame Morgan.”
“You think I want to start a fire on this property?” Trevor threw up his hands. “I’m going to have enough of a PR nightmare dealing with questions about smoke taint after this. What if the fire had spread to the vines? It would have been devastating.” He leveled a look at Maggie. “But not to your family.”
“Trevor.” Marcus’s voice was firm. “This isn’t helping. Placing blame prematurely isn’t going to do any good.”
“Whatever.” Trevor shook his head. “I’ve got phone calls to return. We all know who in this community benefits most by hurting Harvest.”
He stalked off down the sloping hill toward the main office on the other side of the open courtyard.
Griffin wanted to yell or hit something or walk away. Run away. Life had been easier when he wasn’t emotionally involved. Right now he couldn’t figure out what to feel. Anger...regret...guilt. He’d spent years trying to convince himself he wanted nothing to do with the family business after his father kicked him out. Now he was back but his second chance seemed doomed, much like the happiness he thought he’d found.
* * *
Maggie stood in stunned silence as she watched Trevor walk away. Marcus gave her an apologetic smile while Jana seemed to deliberately avoid eye contact.
They couldn’t truly believe Morgan had anything to do with the fire? And certainly not that it was some sort of larger scheme to undermine their family business.
Griffin would never stand for that.
Would he?
“We’ll rebuild,” Jana said gently, putting a hand on Griffin’s broad shoulder. He didn’t move or react; he just continued to stare at the fire-ravaged building in front of him.
Jana gave him a short hug, then turned and joined Marcus at the edge of the gravel drive. It was clear they were giving Maggie and Griffin a bit of privacy. Maggie only wished she knew how to make th
is better.
She remembered the first fire at the tasting room. She’d driven her grandmother out here to survey the damage. Harvest had been a fledgling business at that point, and Dave Stone had looked as shell-shocked as Griffin did now when he’d met them on this very same hill.
That was the moment she’d learned that Griffin had left town. It had been a shock, and Dave’s voice sounded hollow as he spoke of his careless, reckless son and the damage he’d caused.
Maggie knew how much it meant to Griffin to rebuild this part of his family’s property. She walked toward him, aching to offer whatever comfort she could.
“You should go,” he said, stepping away as if he couldn’t stand to have her too close.
“I want to help,” Maggie said, “both as the mayor and as your friend. I know everyone is upset and angry, but you can’t possibly believe my family had anything to do with this.”
“This isn’t about you,” he said, his tone biting.
She swallowed, shocked at the insinuation of his words. “I know, Griffin. But it’s not about Morgan, either.”
“Your sister is a spoiled, self-centered kid.” He turned, and the anger in the depths of his eyes felt like poison seeping through her veins—destroying her from the inside out. “I should know because I was one.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“You Spencers like to believe you’re above everyone else in this town, that you hold some sort of exalted status because of your last name.”
“You’re not being fair,” Maggie insisted. Where was the man who had held her so tenderly through the night? Who laughed at her silly jokes and made her feel like she could accomplish anything? “If Morgan was involved, we’ll make it right.”
“You can’t,” he said quietly, then turned and walked away.
Maggie stood there for several moments, too stunned to move. Everything she’d thought they meant to each other was gone. She realized her dreams were castles built from sand, easily toppled by the smallest wave.
“Give him time,” Marcus said from behind her.
“Why?” she asked, a tremble in her voice.
“The fire is messing with his head. It puts him back to where he was ten years ago, and that was a bad time for the whole family. Even if Morgan had something to do with that candle, we all know it was an accident.”
“Griffin doesn’t seem to,” she muttered. “The things he said...that he believes about us.”
“He’s angry and emotional.”
“It’s not an excuse.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I need to talk to my sister. Would you call Cole to get his side of the story?”
Marcus nodded. “We’ll figure it out, Maggie.”
She swallowed back the tears rising in her throat and walked to her car, wondering if her life would ever feel normal again.
Chapter Fifteen
“They’re going to hate me forever,” Morgan said from the back seat of their father’s Volvo station wagon later that evening.
“They won’t hate you,” Maggie said, although her stomach knotted in anticipation of the meeting with the Stones.
She’d returned home earlier, numb from the barrage of Griffin’s words to find Morgan concerned about the fire at the winery but unaware she’d had any part in it.
Maggie had sat down with Morgan and their dad, explaining what she knew about the circumstances of the blaze. Her sister’s face immediately lost all of its color as she began to hyperventilate, realizing that her careless actions had caused the blaze.
When Maggie finally got Morgan calm enough to speak coherently, the girl explained that she had a crush on Cole and had gone to the winery knowing he was working late that evening. She’d set up a romantic tableau in the empty building, complete with candles, a blanket and a bottle of wine she’d stolen from the rack in the kitchen.
It had taken a bit of coaxing to keep Jim Spencer from getting totally sidetracked by the idea that his teenage daughter had wanted to seduce a boy. Maggie managed to pull from Morgan that Cole had rebuffed her advances, leading to a huge argument. Morgan claimed she’d thrown everything she’d brought into her backpack and driven away, but admitted that she might have left behind a candle in her hurry to get away.
Maggie had been unable to reach Jana or Griffin to explain the situation, so they were driving out to the vineyard so Morgan could apologize in person and Jim could work out the details of making restitution for the damages.
If they handled this privately, Maggie hoped they could avoid getting law enforcement involved. But based on Griffin’s anger earlier, she wasn’t sure what might happen.
Her father parked in front of Jana’s house and Maggie put an arm around Morgan’s waist as they walked up the front porch steps as somber as a funeral procession.
Jim knocked and a minute later Jana appeared at the door.
“Jim,” she whispered like she’d just seen a ghost.
“Hello, Jana.” Maggie glanced sharply at her father, something in his tone making her think there was more to his greeting than the two simple words.
He ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “I know this is a difficult time,” he said slowly, “and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
She looked from him to Maggie and then Morgan, the corners of her mouth dipping slightly. “Come in.”
Maggie had been in the Stone family home countless times, but today she took in the expensive furnishings, the framed black-and-white photos, everything neat as a pin and so different from her cozy, cluttered family home.
“Have a seat,” Jana offered, gesturing to the damask-covered sofa and two coordinating side chairs arranged in the living room.
Maggie’s father took a seat on the far side of the couch, and Maggie ushered Morgan next to him before sitting. She tugged on her sister’s hand when Morgan continued to stand, but the girl ignored her.
Jana clasped her hands in front of her stomach, looking as formal as the decor. “May I get anyone a glass of wat—”
“I’m so sorry,” Morgan blurted, then covered her mouth with a hand as her shoulders shook uncontrollably. “It was an accident. The candle... I didn’t mean...”
“It’s all right, dear,” Jana said gently, tension slipping from her petite frame. She came forward and reached a hand out to pat Morgan’s arm. “Cole explained everything. We know what he did.”
Maggie straightened as her sister went perfectly still. “Cole didn’t do anything,” Morgan whispered.
“What did he tell you, Jana?” Maggie asked.
Jana closed her eyes, dragged in what looked to be a calming breath, then opened her eyes again. “He said he invited you to the property and when you weren’t receptive to his advances, he got angry. I believe he didn’t realize he’d knocked over the candle after your argument.” She flashed a wistful smile. “I was young once so I remember how emotions can sometimes get the best of us.”
“That isn’t how it happened.” Morgan looked between Maggie and their father, who stood and paced to the window, massaging a hand over the back of his neck. “I came out here on my own.”
“Are you protecting him, Morgan?” Jim demanded, turning around and gripping the back of the tufted side chair. “Did that boy try to take advantage of you?”
“No,” Morgan insisted. “Maggie, you know Cole. He isn’t like that.”
“Don’t worry,” Jana assured them. “We’re not going to press charges. Griffin...” Her voice trailed off and she sighed and then continued, “Griffin appreciates his honesty. Obviously, this isn’t the first time teenage emotions have had devastating repercussions on our vineyard.”
“I left the candle burning,” Morgan said, her voice rising. “I got mad and stormed off and forgot it. Cole didn’t do anything.”
“He’s going to work to pay off the cost o
f the repairs,” Jana continued as if Morgan hadn’t spoken. “It might take a while, but Griffin had no reservations about giving him a second chance.”
“Maggie.” Morgan turned, disbelief and guilt warring in her eyes. “You can’t let him take the blame for this.”
Dumbfounded at the boy’s sacrifice, Maggie turned to Jana, who held up a hand. “He warned us Morgan would defend him this way.” Her smile was gentle. “You’ve raised a good girl, Jim. You should be proud.”
“No,” Morgan whispered. “Dad, no.”
“I’ll pay for the reconstruction,” Maggie’s father said, stepping around the chair, closer to Jana. “I don’t know what happened here last night, but that boy shouldn’t have to bear the responsibility of it.”
Jana’s eyes widened. “But he said—”
“I know what Cole told you, and I know what Morgan explained to us. But only the two of them know the truth.”
“Dad,” Morgan said, her voice a low whine. “I’m not lying. I promise.”
“Teenage promises,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off Jana. “You and I both know how well those can be trusted.”
Maggie frowned as Jana drew in a sharp breath. What did she not understand about her father’s history with Griffin’s mother?
“I’ll have Griffin contact you once he has figures on what it will take to fix the damage. I can’t guarantee Cole will appreciate your generosity...”
“He doesn’t need to. They both have some responsibility in this. I’ll talk to Griffin about how Morgan can do her part.”
“Fine.”
They stared at each other for several seconds, and Maggie wished she could see her father’s face. When he finally turned, his gaze was unreadable.
“Let’s go,” he said and Maggie wondered where her absentminded father had gone. In his place stood a man who looked ready to go to war for or against his younger daughter. Maggie couldn’t quite decide which.
Morgan looked like she wanted to argue, but Maggie took her hand and led her from the room.
As soon as they were out of the house, Morgan wrenched away from her grasp. “This isn’t fair.”
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