sighed. “I know you love this work, and think this is what you want to do—”
“Think? I know.”
“But it is far past time you acknowledged your heritage,” her father said. “And stopped playing in the vineyards. And at life. All these years, I have indulged you and let you have your freedom. You, of all the daughters, have had the least to do with the royal family and its duties. But now, you are twenty-four, my dear. Time to start settling down and become a true Santaro.”
Settle down? She bristled at the thought of handing her life over to yet another person who would want to tell her where to sit, how to act, what she should do. In the past year, her father had reminded her a hundred times that playtime was over and now she needed to step more fully into her role as princess. “That is the last thing I want to do right now.”
“I love you, my daughter, I really do, but you have one fault.”
They’d had this discussion a thousand times and Carrie didn’t want to have it again now. “Papa—”
“You flit from thing to thing like a butterfly. First it was wanting to be a landscaper. Then it was being a champion in dressage. Then it was rock climber, I think. Now, a shop owner.” He paused, and she could hear the disappointment in his voice. “When are you going to settle down? It is time to be serious.”
“I am, Papa.”
He sighed. “I know you are trying, but it would be nice if you found a career you could stick with. A place to really shine.”
“I already have—working in the vineyard.” But as she said the words, she knew he had a point. She had darted from job to job, pursued a dozen careers in as many years. She’d never settled down with anything until now. Not a job, not a man, not a thing. “You don’t understand. It’s hard to find your place in the sun,” she said quietly, “when there are so many stars overhead.”
“Oh, cara, I understand that,” her father said, his voice softer. “I grew up in my father’s court, the second of five. If my eldest brother hadn’t died, I would have lived a very different life than the one I had. It was a good life, though, and I am not complaining.”
Carrie sent up a silent prayer that she was so far removed from the throne that she would probably never have to worry about wearing the crown. “I love working in the vineyards and with the wine, Papa. I want to run the vineyards someday.”
“It is not a proper job for a princess,” he said. “Go back to college. Become a doctor. A humanitarian. Something that befits royalty.”
In other words, not something where she got her hands dirty. When the vineyard’s marketing manager announced last month that this year’s harvest would be his last because he was retiring, Carrie had seen it as her chance to take a more active role in the company she loved so much. Her father had disagreed. She’d hoped he would come around, but clearly, he wasn’t about to. She wanted to prove to him with this trip that she could do both—have a career she loved and represent the royal family in a dignified way. “Papa, I will be home in a few months,” she said again, more firmly this time.
“This is yet another lark for you, Carlita, my dear.” Franco Santaro sighed. “I worry about you.”
“You don’t need to, Papa.”
“I do, cara. You dropped out of college after your first year. Then dropped out of the second one. And barely finished at the third. And now you go to this town—” He cut off the sentence, leaving whatever else he intended to say unsaid. “I worry. That’s all.”
Carrie winced at the reminders. “I just wasn’t a good fit for college. I love being outside, being hands-on.” She sighed, then gripped the phone tighter. “Tell Mama I love her. I have to go or I’ll be late for work. I love you, Papa.”
“I love you, too. I will talk to you soon.”
Carrie hung up the phone. She showered and dressed, then drove the two miles from her rental house to the downtown area of Winter Haven. It wasn’t until she parked that she realized she was a full half hour early for her first day of work.
She got out of the rental car and stood under the sign of By the Glass, the specialty wine shop where she’d be spending the end of summer and early fall. This was what it had all come down to—her years working in the vineyard, working her way up from a vineyard tech job to a viticulturist assistant, and after she’d gotten her degree, assistant to the manager.
She’d loved learning about the science of field blending to create new flavors. Loved seeing the finished product taken from a harvest and bottled for consumption. She’d tried several degree programs before settling on one in sales and marketing, with a heavy concentration in viticulture—even though her father had argued against those courses.
Once she got more hands-on at the vineyard, she wanted to parlay what she had learned into growth for the company. It had taken nearly a year to convince her father that Uccelli’s amazing wines should be sold in the U.S. and that she should be the one to head the venture. When Jake, Mariabella’s new husband, had offered backing to open a wine shop in the small tourist town in the Midwest, the former king of Uccelli had finally agreed.
At first, Carrie was content to let the shop run itself while she watched from Uccelli and spent her days helping the vineyard manager run the operation. But as the first few weeks passed and the sale of Uccelli wines in America remained stagnant, she knew she wanted to take a more active role. Do what made her happiest—get involved and get her hands dirty. And finally implement some of what she had learned in college.
She’d spent two weeks at a wine shop in Uccelli, learning the techniques of selling. Still, her father had had his doubts, sure she’d turn around in a day, a week, a month, and embark on something else.
How could she blame him? When she’d come home from her third and final college, her father had been sure she’d never settle into any one career, despite her framed degree. But Carrie had retreated to the vineyards, and as soon as she did, felt at home. She’d known this was where she’d been meant to be all along. Any doubts she might have had disappeared.
Now Carrie was going to prove not just her own worth as a vineyard director, but the worth of the Uccelli wines to foreign markets. And maybe, just maybe, she’d return to Uccelli, and her father would finally see she was committed to this work, and the best next choice to run the vineyard’s overseas operations. If not, well, she’d scrimp and save until she had a vineyard of her own.
But the little nagging doubts still crowded on her shoulders. What if you quit this, too? that voice whispered. What if you fail? Where will you be then?
She would not fail. Simple.
Carrie unlocked the front door, let herself in, then did the few morning tasks required to open the store. By the time Faith, the regular clerk, came in, the shop was already humming with music and warm incandescent light. “Wow,” Faith said as she dropped off her purse behind the counter. “You’re in early.”
“I was excited about my first day.” Carrie slipped onto the other side of the heavy basket display of featured wines and helped Faith carry it out to the sidewalk. The salesclerk—whom Carrie had met when she’d arrived in Winter Haven on Friday—was a tall, thin blonde with a warm smile and wide green eyes. She’d welcomed Carrie, and quizzed her for a solid hour
