The Winemaker

by Michelle MacQueen

  “Oh, wipe the grin off your face.” I shoved past him, clambering from the fancy deck, over the rail and back on our perfectly fine fishing boat that had seemed a bit luxurious to me before I set foot on the Ashford yacht. The name of the boat caught my eye as I maneuvered around to the bow. Dad’s Handmedown. I’d bet just about anything the old man re-named the boat before he handed it over to his kids to play with. What a life.

  Duke barked at me from the bow deck on the yacht, and I called back to him. He was a great dog. If he was smaller, I’d put him in my bag and take him home with me.

  I caught the towlines from Enzo and secured them, leaving a healthy distance between the two boats. I watched my brother waving his hands and talking loudly to make sure the Ashford’s knew how this was going to go. Slow and steady. Enzo was right, we didn’t have the horsepower to tow them very far, so we were going to have to let the current help us.

  “You think they have a clue what they’re doing with that big boat?” I called over my shoulder as I turned toward the south side marina, the tug of the huge yacht behind us like an anchor pulling us back.

  “That’s a hard, fast no.” Carter came to stand beside me, and I did a double take, looking for my brother.

  “Enzo thought it best if he stayed back there in case my brothers do something stupid or anyone needs to make a quick, smart decision.”

  I snorted a laugh, trying to keep my ‘I’m mad at you’ scowl in place.

  “Come on, Lena.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I let Conner ambush you. I would have warned you, but my dad saw your text, and he took my phone.”

  “What are you, twelve?” Really, the way the old man treated his adult children was kind of embarrassing. I couldn’t imagine sticking around with my hand out, letting him treat me like that just because he controlled the money. In Carter’s shoes, I’d just make my own way and let the old man bully the others. But I didn’t know what it felt like to be in Carter’s shoes, so that was probably easier said than done.

  “It’s complicated. Dad’s a tyrant, but he’s not going to tell me who I can be friends with. I’m just sorry about Conner. He was a little wet when he came home from our spot.” His mouth twitched with amusement.

  “He went for an unscheduled swim.” I pushed our speed up a tiny bit, inching us along at a painfully slow rate. “Is he always such a jerk?”

  “Who, Conner? No. Sometimes. He’s just not so good at the social, talking to people thing. Don’t let his stuffy businessman facade fool you, he’s just trying to live up to all the pressure of being the next in line to run the family empire.”

  I did not want to feel sorry for Conner Ashford. “I guess your dad probably isn’t the easiest to work with.”

  “Conner’s pretty good at dealing with Dad. He’s been going head to head with him since we were all kids. Conner always put himself between us and Dad, taking the brunt of his crap for us. The pressure I’m talking about comes from the town. He’s got big shoes to fill. I’m just glad I was born third.”

  “Seriously, stop. I don’t want to feel bad for him.” I shoved Carter’s face away with a laugh. I really couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

  “I’m not going to let my family bully you. I know you want that land, Lena. I don’t know if I can help you get it. Dad got his hackles up the moment he realized a Contreras was interested in it.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “I was thinking I could help you look for other options. There has to be a piece of land around here somewhere that would work for your plans that my family doesn’t own.”

  “You would think.” It was sweet of him to offer the help, but there was a reason I wanted that parcel. It was close to town on the north side, without being too far from Orchard Hill Farm. It was perfect for tourism, and I wanted it. “I’m not done fighting yet, Carter.” I gunned the engine, heading closer to land.

  It was time to dump the Ashfords at the marina—get an eye full of them rubbing elbows with the fishermen at the Rusty Hook bait and tackle shop/boat mechanic—and get back to plotting.

  11

  Conner

  Lena Contreras had never made sense to me. We weren’t exactly new to each other. Our families operated on opposite edges of this town for so long I couldn’t remember a time we didn’t know each other.

  But I’d never really known her. I scrubbed a hand across my face as I sat on the upper deck of the Handmedown. From here, I could see the entire marina in all its rugged glory. There was a reason I hadn’t wanted to come here.

  Fisherman wandered the worn and cracked wooden planks of the docks, coming in with their day’s catch. Next to us, a mechanic yelled orders to someone from the engine room—if it could be called that—of a small pleasure boat, one that looked like it had seen better days.

  This was a side of Superiore Bay I rarely saw. If we were at the Bay Club, a specialist would have already come to us, prioritizing our time over anyone else’s. We’d have been brought drinks and anything else we wanted from the restaurant.

  My eyes drifted to the Rusty Hook tackle shop at the center of all the activity. A small lobster shack stood beside it where people could walk up to a window and get all sorts of fried and greasy offerings. It turned my stomach just thinking about dockside food.

  This part of town had seen better days, yet it thrummed with life.

  Carter dropped into a chair next to me. “Enzo talked to a mechanic. We’re in the queue.”

  “In the queue?”

  “Yeah, like a line.” He eyed me. “It’s what normal people wait in.”

  I tried not to let my exasperation show, but I really needed to get back to work. And there was no way I was leaving the boat here with my brothers. Father would never forgive me if I put Carter in charge. Conrad knew less about boats than me, and our cousin Harrison was off talking with a crowd of fisherman who’d greeted him by name.

  He wasn’t the only one.

  Lena walked along the dock, stopping to talk to everyone she saw, gracing them with the kind of smiles I’d never seen from her. She stepped up beside Harrison, and the two of them started laughing about something. I found myself wishing I knew what had made her laugh.

  Harrison was an Ashford. Carter was an Ashford. Yet, with me, that was suddenly a dirty word.

  “It’s because you treat her like she doesn’t matter,” Carter said as if he’d read my mind.

  “What?”

  “That look … you’re confused about Lena because she’s never this nice around you. I’ve been telling you for years she’s great. She’s just easy to rile up.”

  “Don’t I know it.” I didn’t want to fight with her. I’d have even sold her the land if it were up to me, but it wasn’t, and she saw that as my fault. “Something about her always makes me say things I don’t mean.”

  Carter laughed. “Yeah, she has that effect on people.”

  “I wish we hadn’t needed their help.”

  Carter stared at me for a long moment. “Conner … what they did for us was nice, like really nice. We derailed their afternoon. Did you see the cooler of food and drinks and the brand-new fishing gear? I don’t think they were planning to come back in before dinner.”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “But why? What’s in it for them?”

  “Are you really so jaded you don’t think people help others without getting anything in return?”

  “Yes. That doesn’t happen.” Carter didn’t understand. I couldn’t accept charity from Lena and her brother. None of us should. I didn’t want to owe anything to anyone.

  Enzo walked toward us with an older man at his side. The man pushed sunglasses into his salt and pepper hair as he stared up at us. “You Ashford?”

  I stood and climbed down the steps to the lower deck. “Sure am.”

  “This is Scooter.” Enzo gestured to the man. “I explained what was going on to him.”

  Scooter nodded. “Air in the gas lines, eh
? We can fix you up, no problem. I’ll do a check for anything else that needs serviced. Give me a day or so.” He handed me a clipboard. “Fill this out.”

  I scribbled my information down, not liking the informality of it, but at this point, I didn’t have another choice.

  Scooter took the clipboard and the keys then walked away without another word.

  “You guys need a ride?” Enzo asked. “I have my truck in the lot. The bed is empty.”

  Riding home in the bed of a truck held no appeal. “No, we’ll call for a car at the estate.”

  Enzo shrugged before turning and heading toward Lena. They spoke and then walked toward the lot. She didn’t even turn to say goodbye.

  Carter ran after them and pulled her into a hug from behind. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the ease of their relationship as she turned and swatted him with a laugh.

  Bet she’d never push him into the bay.

  I turned away from them and called Ashford Estates to have a car come pick us up.

  We also had to pick up our cars at the Bay Club, and by the time we made it back to the house, the sun had set. Conrad and Harrison went their own ways, so only Carter walked inside with me. I’d completely given up on getting any more work done and just wanted a shower and my bed.

  But when did I ever get what I wanted?

  Carter slipped into the kitchen where I knew the cook would have left some dinner for us in the fridge. I walked by the library, planning to pick up my laptop and get out, but my grandfather sat among the books, an unlit pipe in hand.

  “Going to smoke that?” I asked.

  Grandfather looked at the pipe as if he was surprised it was there. “Oh, no. Just smelling it for now and thinking.”

  Getting my grandfather alone without my father was a feat. When I was younger, I’d taken to sneaking down here late at night when I knew he was still up. It was something I’d stopped as the years went on.

  “Have a seat, Conner.” He pointed to my father’s favorite chair.

  “I was actually going to go to bed.” Even though it was too early for that, I was exhausted.

  Grandfather only raised one eyebrow and waited.

  Unable to deny him, I stayed. I didn’t take my father’s chair, instead opting for the couch.

  “You look tired, Conner.”

  “I am. It’s been a long day.”

  “I don’t mean physically tired.”

  I sighed. “Am I … capable?”

  “What do you mean? You’re the brightest young man I know.”

  I thought back to the boat, how I’d had no idea how to figure out what the problem was. I’d never felt more inept, and that didn’t sit right with me. I excelled at things, I didn’t bumble. “Yes, but life skills …” I knew what I wanted to ask, but it was hard. “Would I be able to make it in the world without the Ashford name and fortune?”

  “Ah, the age old question.” He set his pipe on the table next to his chair. “The truth is, Conner, I don’t know.”

  I started to respond, but he cut me off. “We only overcome the challenges we face, nothing more and nothing less. You can’t fault yourself for not facing challenges that aren’t yours, but at the same time, you need to be mindful of the incredible challenges others face who aren’t as lucky as you.”

  I rested my elbow on the arm of the couch and leaned my head on my hand, my fingers sliding into my salt-crusted hair. “What about when we’re the cause of challenges in someone else’s life?” I couldn’t get it out of my head.

  He smiled. “The Contreras girl?”

  I nodded. “Father is trying so hard to prevent her from getting her hands on our land, land we have no use for.”

  “Your father …” He leaned his head back. “Did you know the Ashfords and the Contrerases used to be close?”

  “I’d heard something like that, but it’s hard to believe.”

  “It was before my time, but my mother used to tell me about those days when our two families were unstoppable. We would not be where we are if it was not for that partnership.”

  “But what about them? They struggle every year.”

  He gave me a sad look. “My father and grandfather took certain measures to hold them back.”

  “Just like my father is doing.”

  Grandfather looked at me for a long moment. “Your father took the rivalry to heart, something neither of his brothers did. But then, neither of his brothers stayed in the wine business either.” My uncles got out of the family business with the blessing of my grandfather and then stayed near town, a part of our lives but also not.

  My father hadn’t reacted quite so kindly to Conrad leaving winemaking or Carter showing no interest in it as of yet.

  “I don’t know what to do.” I rubbed my hand along the leg of my trunks. “Father wants me to do whatever is necessary to make sure Lena and her family never manage this business idea of theirs.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, Conner, but think of it like this: the worst thing that could happen is Lena succeeds, that she brings needed jobs and tourist dollars to Superiore Bay. Would that be so bad?”

  “No.” But to my father …

  “You should never hope for someone to fail. That is when you become the kind of person I don’t think you want to be.”

  Our conversation didn’t last much longer and, after I showered, I crawled into bed. It should have been work on my mind, instead it was Carter’s words to me.

  Are you really so jaded you don’t think people help others without getting anything in return?

  I wished I could say he was wrong, that my grandfather’s faith in me was well placed.

  If I wanted to make anything right about this day, I knew what I needed to do, even if it meant swallowing my pride.

  12

  Lena

  “Stupid piece of garbage.” I threw my wrench on the ground, wiping the sweat from my face with an old bandana I kept in my back pocket. It was really hot for May.

  I kicked the tractor tire in frustration. I never should have let Enzo talk me into buying such an old pruning tower at that auction back in December. The thing hadn’t worked right since we got it. But we needed the hydraulic lift this year. Our tallest standard apple trees were in desperate need of pruning. Most of our oldest fruit-bearing trees were over thirty feet tall, and if we wanted them to keep bearing good fruit, we needed to take care of them. Our best apples came from the part of the orchard where the trees were several generations old.

  I bent over the pruning tower that would be hitched to our best tractor. Enzo and Dad were waiting for me, and daylight was fading. We had more than a dozen trees to prune before sunset if we were going to make it through the task this week.

  A car door slammed, and a dog barked. Just what I needed. An unwanted distraction.

  I turned toward the house, seeing a cloud of dust lingering down the drive. The monster dog came darting around back, all legs and toothy smiles as he ran straight toward me.

  “Woah, Duke.” I held out my hands, hoping he wouldn’t tackle me. “Nice to see you, boy.” I got my hands into his fur as he skidded to a halt beside the pruning tower, dropping his butt on the ground and sniffing my pockets for treats. “Do you like apples, buddy? I got plenty of those.” I scratched behind his ears. “I don’t suppose you came alone?”

  “He loves apples. Especially when they’re covered in peanut butter.” Conner Ashford came strolling into the backyard from the front drive. Dressed in khaki shorts, a snug fitting denim shirt, and flip flops, he looked like a walking ad for a men’s magazine. Even his sunglasses were fancy—and probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Certainly more than the piece of junk I was trying to salvage.

  Around Orchard Hill, I was never too far from a barrel of apples. We had some Red Delicious apples waiting for a pickup beside the barn we used as a garage for old farm equipment. It was more like a graveyard these days. “Come on, Duke, let’s get you a treat.” I headed for the barn now, trying no
t to wonder what brought an Ashford to my house. It couldn’t be anything good.

  I sliced off a piece of apple with a pruning knife, and Duke gobbled it up.

  “You can toss it on the ground, and he’ll eat the whole thing in a few seconds. Just don’t let him have the seeds.” Conner stood in the dusty drive, hands shoved in his pockets with his designer messenger bag strapped over his shoulder.

  I chatted with Duke, preferring his company as I cored the apple and let the big dog have at it. He was in heaven, chomping on the crunchy fruit like it was the meatiest bone. “Good boy.” I patted his massive shoulder, walking with Conner back to the tractor.

  “He likes you.” Conner frowned at his dog like that was the strangest thing.

  “And that’s bad why?” I rolled my eyes and went back to work on the pruning tower. If the hydraulics could just hold my weight, it would be enough to get us through the pruning season. Maybe next year we could afford a mechanic. I bent to tighten another bolt.

  “No, no, of course it’s not.” Conner backtracked, his tone sounding annoyed. “It’s just … Duke likes people, but it takes him a while to warm up to strangers.”

  Duke nudged my hand, looking for more apples. Clearly, he did not view me as a stranger. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Conner Ashford was flustered and a wee bit jealous of his dog.

  I smiled at Duke. “Well.” I looked up at Conner. “It seems that settles it.”

  “Settles what?”

  I went back to work on the irritating bolt that refused to tighten. “Your dog has better taste than you do.”

  Conner laughed. “That’s probably true.”

  I set the wrench back in my toolbox. That was as fixed as this thing was going to get. “Was there something you needed?” I shielded my eyes, looking up at Conner in all his windswept, casual glory. The man looked like he didn’t know what a hard day’s work was like.