“Stop!” They both turned as Morgan and Cole came out of the tasting room. Morgan made a face and held up her hands to shield her eyes. “My corneas are burning,” she shouted.
Cole pointed at Griffin, holding his stomach with one hand as he threw back his head and laughed. “Worst dancer ever.”
“Punk kids,” Griffin muttered, narrowing his eyes. “You can do better?” he asked Cole when they got closer.
“My two-year-old cousin can do better,” the boy told him.
“Don’t listen to them. You were great.” Maggie beamed and Griffin didn’t care if the whole damn world criticized his dancing. All that mattered was making her smile.
“Cole and I got the tables rearranged.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said, and he noticed the boy blush under her scrutiny. “We should get going,” she said to Morgan. “I need to check with the florist about the centerpieces.”
Morgan glanced at Cole, then gave a little wave.
He waved back, coloring a deeper shade of pink.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Griffin told Maggie.
“Sure,” she agreed, still grinning. “I’ll have the image of you dancing in my mind for the rest of the day.”
Morgan groaned.
“Lucky you,” Griffin told her and watched the two sisters get into Maggie’s car and drive away. “What are you smiling about?” he asked Cole when they were alone.
“I asked Morgan to homecoming.”
“Nice work, buddy.” Griffin gave the boy a friendly slap on the back. “I’m taking Maggie to the reunion dance.”
“Dude.” Cole nudged his arm. “Right back at you.”
“You own a suit?”
“Um...no. But I can—”
“We’ll drive into Portland tomorrow after school. I need a tux for the gala anyway.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Cole muttered.
“I know,” Griffin agreed. “But if I offer you up to the salespeople, they’ll hopefully ignore me.”
“Rude.”
“You dissed my dancing.”
“You really suck.”
“Maggie doesn’t think so.”
Cole snorted. “She was just being nice.”
“I’ll take nice,” Griffin said softly and saw Cole nod.
“Me, too,” the boy whispered.
Chapter Eight
“I think you should wear the black boatneck.”
Maggie turned from the mirror on the back of her closet door to meet her grandmother’s sharp gaze. “You look pretty,” she said, pasting on a bright smile.
“That dress is suggestive,” Grammy answered, ignoring the compliment. Her eyes zeroed in on the deep V of the neckline. “Are you even wearing a bra?”
“There’s one built into the dress,” Maggie explained, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Grammy’s disapproval. The dress was totally appropriate for the hospital fund-raiser. With no time for a shopping trip into the city, she’d ordered it online and been ridiculously pleased when it fitted. The fabric was a shimmery silver, with tiny beads sewn in intricate rows. Although it had a plunging neckline, the rest of the dress was more demure with capped sleeves and a hem that fell below her knees.
“It’s scandalous for someone in your position,” Vivian said, shaking her head.
“Grammy, the dress is stylish and quite conservative compared to some of them. I love it.”
“Me, too,” her father said, coming to stand next to Grammy in the doorway of Maggie’s bedroom. “Leave her alone, Mom.” He dropped a quick kiss to the top of Grammy’s head, which the older woman tried to wave away. “She looks beautiful.”
“Well, of course she’s beautiful,” Vivian said with a sniff. “She could wear a potato sack and be gorgeous. I just thought she’d want to be seen in something more modest after her most recent scandal. I don’t want the haters to have any reason to talk about you, Mary Margaret.”
Although couched in judgment, Maggie knew her grandmother cared about her. “I’ll be fine, Grammy.”
“Want me to grab a rusty knife from Dad’s studio?” Ben ducked into the room between their father and grandmother. “I still haven’t gotten to shank anyone.”
He flopped down on the bed, arms and legs flailing like he was making a snow angel.
“You’ll wrinkle your suit,” Grammy warned.
“Then maybe Dad will let me change,” he shot back.
“No chance.” Jim tugged at his starched collar. “Misery loves company and all that.”
“Who’s miserable?”
Maggie heard Morgan ask the question from the hallway. Their dad stepped back to allow her sister into the room.
“Oh, my.” Grammy put a hand to her chest as she stared at Morgan.
Morgan grimaced under the scrutiny. “What did I do now?”
“You look absolutely stunning,” Vivian murmured. “So much like your mother.”
“Um...thank you,” Morgan whispered, fiddling with the material on her A-line, chiffon-lace dress in a deep midnight blue. She seemed shocked to be on the receiving end of Grammy’s approval in any way.
Tears sprang to Maggie’s eyes. Morgan did indeed favor their mother, with her light hair and peaches-and-cream complexion. Although it had been over a decade since their mother’s death, there were times when Maggie felt the loss like a fresh wound, raw and painful.
Jim cleared his throat. “All three of my girls are gorgeous, not to mention my handsome son. That makes me a very lucky man.”
“I’m hardly a girl,” Vivian said with a delicate snort, if a snort could be described as delicate.
“You’re a beautiful lady, then,” Jim conceded.
“That’s right, Grammy.” Morgan wiggled her eyebrows. “You better watch the fellas tonight. Someone may try getting fresh given how hot you look.”
“Don’t worry,” Ben added, hopping up from the bed and executing a complex series of ninja-like moves. “I can—”
“If you use the word shank,” Grammy said, holding up a hand, “we’re going to have problems, young man.”
“I’ll pop him in the family jewels,” Ben offered instead with a cheeky grin.
Maggie laughed as Grammy rolled her eyes. As difficult as her family could be, Maggie was grateful for each one of them at the moment.
She felt far too nervous about tonight’s event. She’d kept a low profile in the past week with the excuse of needing to finalize details for the gala. But she really hadn’t wanted to face the fallout from her revelation at the debate with Jason. Brenna had assured her that most people were in her corner, but Maggie wasn’t convinced.
“Let’s go,” she told everyone, and they filed down the stairs and out to her father’s Volvo station wagon.
Maggie’s nerves increased as they got closer to the vineyard. They were arriving early to help with any last-minute preparations, so at least she’d be able to stay busy before the guests began to arrive.
Jana greeted them at the door of the tasting room. “This place looks even better than I imagined,” she said with a smile, gesturing everyone into the building.
Maggie’s breath caught as she took in the space. All of the details she’d agonized over for weeks had come together to create a magical setting. She’d chosen a scheme of autumn colors, paying tribute to both the season and the vineyard’s name. The tables were covered with linens in deep shades of russet and gold, and strands of party lights had been hung above the bar, giving the space a warm glow. Light still streamed in from the picture windows onto vases arranged with sunflowers, hydrangeas and seeded eucalyptus that gave a festive look to each of the tables.
A server dressed in black offered her a glass of wine from the tray he held. “This vintage has been carefully aged in our winemaker’s private cellar and opened specificall
y for the event,” he said. She’d known Harvest had created a special label to sell tonight with the proceeds going to the hospital foundation, but she hadn’t had a chance to sample it yet. She sipped the wine. The fruity flavors of ripe cherries and crushed berries exploded on her tongue.
“What do you think?” a deep voice asked from behind her.
She turned to find Griffin watching her. His gaze dipped from her face to her dress, then back up again.
“Wow,” he murmured. “You take my breath away.”
Pleasure bubbled up inside her at the compliment. “The space is amazing,” she said. “You did such a good job.”
“Thanks.” He adjusted the collar of his black tux, much like her dad had earlier. “It’s been a while since I climbed into a monkey suit.”
“You’re very handsome tonight,” she said, looking at him through her lashes. His hair was combed away from his face and still damp at the ends, like he’d just showered. He was clean-shaven and filled out the tuxedo like he was auditioning for the role of a Pacific Northwest James Bond. Not that Griffin needed fancy clothes to be drop-dead gorgeous. It was a given with him. But formally dressed he looked almost out of place in Stonecreek, as if he’d just stepped out of a New York nightclub or off a movie set.
“But not as good looking as me, right?” Trevor came to stand next to Griffin, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “I mean, his tux is rented. What kind of man doesn’t own his own tuxedo?”
“The kind who never wears one,” Griffin ground out, clearly annoyed at his brother’s intrusion.
“You look great, too,” Maggie said, offering Trevor a tentative smile. They’d exchanged a few texts since she’d blurted out what he’d done, but this was her first time seeing him in person.
“It’s okay, Mags,” he said and leaned in to hug her. “I deserved it.”
“My intention wasn’t to hurt you,” she said, needing him to hear the words. Needing to speak them.
Trevor nodded, but she saw Griffin’s mouth thin.
“I wanted to keep my word, but Jason made me so angry. I’m—”
“Don’t apologize,” Griffin interrupted gruffly. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” He turned to his brother. “Nothing,” he repeated.
“Got it,” Trevor muttered. “She also doesn’t need you to defend her against me. I’m not the bad guy in this situation.”
Griffin laughed without humor. “You keep telling yourself that.”
“Tasting room looks great, Grif.” Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “When are you leaving town?” He inclined his head toward Maggie. “You know he’s still planning to take off?” he asked her.
She opened her mouth, shut it again.
“Mind your own business, Trev.”
“I’ve dedicated my career to Harvest Vineyards,” Trevor shot back. “It is my business. A couple months of dipping your toes in the water around here doesn’t make you committed.”
Griffin glared. “Thanks for the reminder. I need to talk to Marcus.” He gestured to where the CEO stood on the other side of the room, then turned and stalked away.
“Brotherly love,” Trevor murmured, taking a glass of wine from a nearby server and draining it in one gulp. “We bring out the best in one another.”
Maggie could see guests beginning to arrive but she didn’t move. “Does the animosity between the two of you have anything to do with me?” She colored as she asked the question. It felt ridiculous to think she had the power to have that kind of effect on either of the Stone brothers, but she couldn’t help but admit they were all a part of some wonky, misshapen love triangle.
Trevor was silent for several long seconds. “I want you to be happy,” he said finally. “I care about you, Mags, and I know I messed up your life pretty badly. Letting you take the fall for why we canceled the wedding was probably the worst. It was a cowardly move, and I like to think I’m better than my actions.”
“You are.”
He shrugged. “Apparently not. If Griffin makes you happy, I can live with that. But be careful. I know how charming my brother is. It comes easy to him. What doesn’t come naturally for Grif is sticking around when things get complicated.”
Maggie’s mouth went dry. Griffin had admitted as much to her in the spring. She wanted to believe he’d changed. That his time in Stonecreek and the connection between them was enough to make a difference. He hadn’t said the words, but she’d felt it when he’d held her...when they’d kissed.
“He’s not the same as he used to be,” she said, but the words rang hollow even to her own ears.
“We’ll see,” Trevor answered. He leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Be happy, Mags.”
She nodded, wiping under her eyes as unexpected tears filled them. She wanted to be happy. Why did it feel like such an elusive goal? As Trevor moved away, Maggie’s gaze snagged on Griffin, standing next to Marcus. He watched her with a frown and she wondered if he’d seen Trevor’s friendly kiss and what it meant to him. Would they ever get past everything between them and simply focus on fostering their undeniable spark?
Grammy called to her then, and Maggie made her way to the entrance of the tasting room to help greet attendees for the night’s event.
She was swept into a tide of gala business, talking to big donors and helping people find their seats. To her surprise, the few people who brought up her outburst during the debate were women. All of them seemed sympathetic to the reasons she’d chosen to hide Trevor’s cheating in the first place.
It was a shock but somehow the knowledge that she’d been betrayed seemed to garner a strange kind of sympathetic connection with her. She realized that her grandmother’s insistence on always presenting a perfect image in public didn’t actually help Maggie. Maybe it had worked for Vivian and her generation, but in the era of social media and constant oversharing by people in the public eye, Maggie understood she’d do better just being herself.
The relief she felt realizing she could take a break from the arbitrary standards she’d set for herself was like slipping off a pair of uncomfortable heels at the end of the day. She’d always been more of a comfy shoe kind of girl anyway. It was time she stopped worrying so much about her image and started focusing on the work she wanted to get done as mayor.
She sat with her family during the dinner, happy to see that both Morgan and Ben seemed to be enjoying themselves. She hoped her younger brother held tight to his sunny disposition through his teen years. Maggie wasn’t sure she could handle another recalcitrant teen, although Morgan had smiled more in the past week than she had in months. That had a lot to do with Cole, who was working as one of the busboys for the formal dinner.
“Jana tells me he’s a decent kid,” her dad murmured, as if reading Maggie’s mind. “Your sister can’t seem to stop with the cow eyes.”
“I don’t think they’re called cow eyes anymore,” Maggie told him, taking a sip of wine. “She’s crushing on him.”
Her dad made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “And I’ll crush him if he hurts her.”
“Look at you being the overprotective father,” Maggie said, nudging his arm.
“I’ll do the same for you,” he offered. “I noticed you talking to both Griffin and Trevor earlier. How was that?”
“Awkward,” Maggie admitted. She leaned closer. “Speaking of noticing, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time tonight glancing in Jana Stone’s direction.”
“Impertinent child,” her father muttered under his breath.
Maggie looked at him more closely, surprised to see that he seemed to be blushing. “Dad?”
He darted a glance at her, then trained his gaze back to his dinner plate, which appeared to hold the most fascinating piece of chicken he’d ever seen.
“Is there something between you and Griffin’s mom?” Panic skittered across Mag
gie’s neck at the thought. There were enough complications between her family and the Stones without adding one more.
“Before your engagement to Trevor, I’d barely spoken two words to Jana in the past thirty years.”
Not exactly a definitive answer to her question.
“What about thirty years ago?”
“A lifetime,” he whispered and stabbed at an asparagus stalk.
“Not quite. Do you have a history with her?”
He lowered his fork to the plate and sighed. “Stonecreek is a small town. I have a history with almost everyone here.”
“Yes, but—”
“She’s thinking of commissioning a piece for the entrance of the winery. We’ve been discussing ideas.”
“Oh.” Maggie nodded. That made more sense. “Do you have time in your schedule?” Her dad’s bronze sculptures were popular, and each one took him months to complete.
“Maybe.” He took a drink of wine and grimaced.
“Dad.” Maggie slapped his arm, glancing around to make sure no one had seen him. “You can’t make that face at the vineyard.”
“Give me a cold beer any day,” he told her. He put down the glass and turned fully to Maggie. “I told Jana we could talk after the election. I want to devote the next couple of weeks to you. Canvasing, making phone calls, whatever you need. Hell, I’ll even make an appearance at one of your grandmother’s awful Historical Society meetings if you think my presence could help.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Maggie whispered.
“I’m not exactly the political expert my mother is,” he admitted, “but I’ve lived here all my life and everyone knows me. I can twist arms with the best of them.”
She chuckled. “Hopefully no arm twisting will be needed, but I appreciate the support.”
A hush fell over the room at that moment as Georgia Branson, the president of the hospital board, took the microphone in front of where the band had set up. “Thank you all for coming tonight,” she said with a smile. “I’m so pleased to tell you we’ve raised sixty-five thousand dollars toward our new pediatrics wing at the hospital.” There was a polite round of applause and she nodded. “I’d also like to publicly recognize the two people who have been instrumental in making this gala such a success.”
Second Chance In Stonecreek Page 9
