“—but I did spend a few years working for a construction company.”
“Of course you did,” Alexis mumbled under breath.
Ben smiled. “I can have some figures for you soon. I’ll run the specs by some contractors. I’ve been in contact with Parker Construction. The father and son team sound competent.”
Of course they were. She went to school with Ty, and his father, Wade, was as sweet as they came. The Parkers had roots in town. Celeste ran Books by the Ocean, while her husband and son were reputable contractors. Mia was Grace’s age, and as far as Alexis knew, was just as flighty.
At least she stayed around town and didn’t traipse off to Europe to sow her wild oats looking to make it rich. Money. The root of all evil. Alexis tamped down her anger toward her sister, not wanting it to interfere with the business at hand.
“And what kind of money do you think this hall will bring in?” Alexis tapped her pen against the pad of paper.
“I looked at the going rate for function halls in the area. They’re nonexistent. The closest one is twenty-five miles from here, and they range from five hundred to two thousand dollars. It really depends what comes with the hall. Do they need to rent tables and chairs, or do you provide them? How many people can it hold? Things like that. There are no rules. You can decide what you want to offer.”
“Five hundred dollars for an empty room?”
“Minimum.”
“That’s a rip off.”
“Ever plan a wedding?” Alexis cocked her head and shook it slowly. “Someday you will, and you’ll be grateful to find a place so cheap.”
“Then you’re saying we should charge more?”
“I’m saying it’s completely up to you. You could set up price packages. Maybe a cheaper rate when they buy X number bottles of wine. Something like that. You could offer a special label for the bride and groom. Or unveil a new wine to partygoers before it’s available to the general public.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Ben. To have happy brides and family functions at our winery? I can picture it now. Maybe a gazebo out in the field by the rock walls for pictures.” Claudia beamed, a wistful glint in her eyes.
Alexis scowled. “Parking. Think of the cars. Where are the thousands of people who come to party and get drunk and trash the place going to park?” She couldn’t let her mother get carried away too soon.
“Your space isn’t big enough to attract thousands. Maybe a hundred, tops. You figure that’s about fifty cars. Shane, you own fifty acres, but only five are harvesting grapes, correct?”
“Yeah. Another half-acre for some blueberry and raspberry bushes. The rest of the land isn’t good for growing.”
“But good enough for parking,” Ben added.
“Great. Twenty acres of parking. That’s attractive.” Alexis returned her attention to her notebook, pretending to write down notes.
“We’d keep it to gravel and crushed rock, like you already have. Landscape it. Maybe have two or three small lots, outlined with rock walls and flowering bushes. A water feature or two to break it up.”
“Oh, Ben, you’re a genius.” Her mother nearly swooned.
“This is ridiculous.” Alexis shot up from her stool and rounded the bar. Deja` vu from only an hour ago. “It all sounds great, Mr. Martelli, but you’re forgetting about one important factor. The most important.” She paused for dramatic effect. The Italian testosterone in the room was turning her into a girl. “Money. Until I see hardcore numbers, I’m not convinced. We could invest hundreds of thousands into your fancy shmancy plan and only get a couple hundred on our return. This is all theory and wishful thinking. I want real data and facts. Get that for me, Mr. Martelli, and then maybe we’ll talk.”
Alexis kept her hands firmly on her hips as she watched Ben pack up his briefcase. He reached out his hand to her parents, which they shook apologetically. “I appreciate your time, Shane and Claudia. Please call or email me with any more questions or things you’d like me to look up. I’ll be in the area for a few more days.”
Ben approached Alexis like a panther to his prey. “And Alexis, lovely seeing you again. You’re right. Hard numbers are important. I’ll work on these as soon as I get back to the inn.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear and she stiffened. “Don’t forget our dinner date.”
“Not on your life,” she hissed.
“It’s the highlight of your day, remember? I’ll pick you up at six.” His breath kissed her ear, and then he was gone, the cold, raw air chilling her bones in his wake.
And her temper and lust boiling her blood.
He’d been an ass not to come clean last night or this morning, but it was fun tormenting Alexis this afternoon. Ben enjoyed her parents, and even Alexis’s mild temper. It was nothing compared to his sister’s. He’d known ahead of time that Alexis was not in favor of expanding. However, there weren’t many ways to increase income without expanding in some capacity.
When Shane gave him access to Coastal Vines’ financial records, Ben cringed. Shane was right to be worried about the winery’s success. They hadn’t increased their net profit in five years, even though tourism in and around Crystal Cove had been on the rise.
And Alexis was right to worry about investing on an inland piece of property in the coastal town. Tourists, and even locals, didn’t come to the quaint cove to drive through the wilderness. Even though the winery was only one mile inland, to out of state folks who’d already trekked three hours north of the Maine-New Hampshire border, a mile seemed like eternity.
They’d drive the additional hour and a half along route one to Bar Harbor, but a mile inland, through winding roads with no known landmarks along the way…not attractive. It was Ben’s job to make it attractive. And he’d need the town’s help to do so.
Not that it was his job job. His parents didn’t ask for much, but set the bar high for all the Martelli siblings. Between needing to distance himself from the trouble he left in California, and the desire to please his parents, he took on this…project as not only a favor to them, but to himself as well.
And frankly, he found he enjoyed it. Even though his business kept him busy, he still went to the family vineyard every weekend to help out in the fields, in the bottling plant, pouring samples. He liked keeping a hand in the business.
He missed it. The dirt. The physical labor. And being in Crystal Cove, meeting the townspeople, researching the local area, made him miss getting his hands dirty on more than just numbers and a computer screen.
He missed driving through small towns, down dirt roads that led to nowhere in particular.
Today, he’d taken Bayberry Road to the winery, and tomorrow he’d continue down the road to see what else was out there. In the meantime, he took a mental note of the maple trees and what he assumed to be sugar shacks behind some of the homes. March, if he remembered correctly, was when the sap ran.
While researching New England wines, he’d come across a winery in New Hampshire that made a maple apple wine. The winery was four hours south of here, so Coastal Vines could corner the market on this classic New England flavor up here in central Maine.
The sign indicating an alpaca farm hung loose from its chain near a rusted mailbox, and Ben wasn’t sure the farm was still a thing, or more for nostalgia. Again, he noted the possibilities along the road. A large white mailbox read Coastal Art and Snyder underneath.
Ben’s marketing and creative side stirred up the realm of possibilities. Expanding the winery would do wonders for the people in the sleepy town. Soon tourists would be bypassing the summer crowds of the usual congested tourist traps to see all Crystal Cove has to offer.
Excited about how his plan was coming together, Ben sped up to get to the inn. Ah, the inn. It was quaint as well. Could use a new coat of paint or two. He’d have to ask about their summer bookings. As far as he could tell, he was the only one staying in the fifteen-room inn. The innkeepers were a lovely couple, John and Melissa Miller, if he remembered correctly. And h
e usually did.
They’d be interested in increasing their guest list as well, he was sure. Once he parked his SUV, he reached around to the backseat for his briefcase and hurried up the front steps.
“You must be missing the warmth of California right about now.” John chuckled, greeting him in the foyer. “Bet you don’t have winters like this where you’re from. Although we haven’t hit our cold snap yet.”
“Not quite.” Ben unbuttoned his jacket and nodded toward John’s coffee. “Have any more of that in the kitchen?”
“Sure thing. Melissa drinks it all day long. Don’t know how she falls asleep at night. But she does. Come back into the kitchen and I’ll rustle up some food as well.”
“Thank you, but I’m still full from lunch.”
“Ah, yes, you went up to Shane and Claudia’s.” John poured the coffee in an oversized pottery mug with a red lobster on the front and handed it to Ben.
In a small town, he supposed there were few secrets. “Thank you.” Ben blew on the steamy liquid and sipped. “I take it January is a fairly slow month around here.”
“Yeah. Mostly. A few romantics come up for a weekend getaway. Order a lobster dinner at The Happy Clam. Other than that we rest up for the summer people.”
“I noticed a couple other inns and motels in the area, but you’re the only one open year round.”
“Why not?” John shrugged. “Missy and I are here, might as well take in travelers, or those who want to get away, and put a few dollars in our pocket at the same time.”
“You like the slow pace around here?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re close enough to Rockland if we need some action, but even that town closes up to some degree in the winter. Portland ain’t too far away. S’not like we’re up country, or out by the Allagash.”
“I suppose you know why I met with the Le Blancs today.” He didn’t want to give away his hand, and John was an open book. Might as well see what the man knew.
“I knew some wine guy from Cali-forn-i-a was going to be visiting. When you reserved your room I figured you were him. Don’t know what you guys were meeting about though. None of my business, really. They like to talk grapes. They get their vines delivered from some college facility in Minnesota. Strangest thing. Who would think you could do that? I suppose you’re sending some of your vines from Cali-forn-i-a.”
From what he’d read, most of the varieties his family grew wouldn’t survive one winter in the east. But he doubted John wanted to hear about the idiosyncrasies of winemaking.
“We’re talking about the business is all.”
“Their daughter Al is a workhorse. She lives and breathes those grapes. For a time back in their high school days I thought my Brandon and Al would be a thing. Married and giving us grandchildren by now.”
A jealous ache cramped in his side and he put his mug down before he spilled it. “Brandon?”
“My son.” Yeah, Ben figured that much. “He and Alexis were close as peanut butter and jelly growing up. He was the quarterback and she was the star running back. Don’t know why she quit the game after eight years. Best set of legs at Crystal Cove High.”
Ben choked and was glad he hadn’t been sipping his coffee.
John startled, and then realization took over his face. “Heck, I didn’t mean it that way. The girl was fast, especially for a little one. We were sorry to lose her. She ran cross-country her senior year in high school. Broke all sorts of records.”
“She and Brandon dated?”
“Nah. Close friends. They all were. Good group of kids. Some stuck around, others went off to college and moved south of Portland.”
“Where’s your son now?” He asked, needing to know if Brandon was still a threat.
Threat? Hell, he wouldn’t be in town long and wasn’t looking to make any sort of commitment.
“Finished up medical school down in Boston a few years ago and is practicing in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.”
“You must be very proud.”
“Damn straight. A doctor, straight out of Crystal Cove. Who would’ve thought?”
Ben noticed the time on the oven clock and reached for his mug. “Mind if I take this to my room? I have some work to do before dinner.”
“Sure thing. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen as well.”
“Thank you, John.”
“My pleasure. Just holler if you need anything.”
“Actually.” He adjusted his briefcase strap and shuffled his feet, hoping John wouldn’t pry. “Do you have any restaurant suggestions? Somewhere outside of town? Quiet setting?”
John scratched his face and held up a finger. “The Sealand. Seafood, steak, salad. Something for everyone.” He rattled off an address and Ben thanked him before turning to go upstairs.
Once in his room, he looked up the restaurant and its address, and deeming it perfect, set to work on the Coastal Vines plan. It was turning out to be so much more than a small winery expansion.
Much, much more.
Not trusting Alexis to actually be ready, Ben showed up fifteen minutes early in case she planned an escape. Granted, she could have escaped thirty minutes ago, but he was banking on her stubborn personality to be home, just not ready.
The outside door to the tasting room was locked. Instead of being annoyed, a smile tugged on his lips. He knocked, just in case she could hear the door from her upstairs apartment and then rounded the building, slipping a little on the slope, to knock on her apartment door.
Still nothing. Ben waited a few more minutes before returning to his SUV. The seat was still warm but he turned on the ignition and cranked the seat warmers, sitting on his hands until they thawed.
The temperature may be above freezing in a meteorologist’s book, but thirty-five degrees felt pretty damn cold to him.
Gloves were a good idea, even if he would only be outside for a few minutes. When he could feel his fingertips again, he dug his cell out of his pocket and sent Alexis a text. He didn’t have to wait long for her to respond.
How did you get my number??
She followed her text up with a slew of angry emojis.
I asked.
Who?!?!?!
Everyone in town.
He chuckled and watched his phone, waiting for her response. His phone didn’t chime, but a minute later his SUV shook. Alexis’s angry fists banged on the window, and she ordered him out of the vehicle.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Ben slowly opened the door, waiting for Alexis to step back, and climbed out of the car. “I know. I’m early. Better than late though, right?”
Alexis shook her fists in front of him. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d be here at six.”
“I didn’t think you were serious about keeping that ridiculous dinner date.” Her teeth chattered and her cheeks grew bright red against her pale skin.
“You’re incredibly underdressed to be outside.” Normally he preferred his women underdressed, but not when it turned their lips blue and their body as stiff as a corpse.
“You’re…not…coming…in,” she said between chattering teeth.
He looked down at her bare legs and feet and swore. “Dear god, woman.” Ben reached in and turned off the ignition and slammed the door shut. Picking Alexis up like a baby, he carried her inside, kicking the tasting room door closed behind them.
“Put…me…down!”
“You’re skin is turning blue. Once you’re warmed, I’ll put you down.”
Her hair smelled sweet like honey, and her body was light and weightless in his arms. Yet not boney and scrawny like the model types who visited the Napa valley regularly, preferring to drink their lunch and dine on rabbit food than to have an ounce of fat on them.
Ben took the stairs two at a time, and slowed when Alexis’s arms wrapped around his neck. He stilled at the top of the stairs, licking his lips as he looked down into amber eyes that s
oftened as she warmed.
“Don’t do it, Ben,” she warned.
The devil in him wanted to touch his lips to hers. To rub the cold out of her body with his hands. She’d succumb at first, and regret it later. Ben didn’t want her regretting their next kiss. It needed to be her idea or she’d accuse him of seducing her so she’d cave to his winery expansion ideas.
He’d come up with some of the best ideas of his life this afternoon and he wanted to share them with Alexis. He wanted her to be just as excited and thankful and anxious for the endless possibilities for her town.
But she wasn’t ready. He didn’t know why he cared so much.
About the town. About her. There was no connection. Hell, not even a paycheck coming out of this job. A pro bono gig he’d offered to do as a favor to his father. A way to get away from the monotony of California and the life-altering shock he’d received last month. He needed to tell his family about it. But not yet.
Looking down at his armful of sweet and spicy innocence, he sighed and gently set Alexis on her feet. He should tell her, too. Maybe. Only if this…thing between them was going anywhere.
Which it wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Geography.
“Go get ready. Our reservation is for six-thirty.”
“Bossy much?”
“Very much.”
“Well, so am I, and I don’t like to be bossed around.”
“That’s fine.” Ben unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the back of one of her kitchen chairs. “I’m in no rush. We can order in if you prefer.” He made himself comfortable on the bright blue couch, resting his hands behind his head, and laughed when she stomped off toward her bedroom.
He scanned her tiny apartment trying to get a glimpse at Alexis’s softer, more personal side. There were minimal knickknacks that didn’t reveal much beyond her interest in wine.
His mother collected those lace things—doilies—while his father had a love of oil paintings. Most women Ben knew collected shoes, jewelry, or men.
At First Blush (A Well Paired Novel Book 1) Page 6
