rumbled. Grammy’s pie was her favorite. “Do we have ice cream?”
“Vanilla bean,” he confirmed with his lopsided smile.
“Yum.”
Maggie came home while Morgan was slicing the pie. Her sister joined them for a late-night snack, dutifully reporting on what they’d missed at Fall Fest, which wasn’t much in Morgan’s opinion.
Of course, she didn’t ask if Cole had been there. He spent almost all his free time working at Harvest, so Morgan suspected he was behind the scenes at the winery’s expansive booth. She’d seen little of him over the summer. He’d been avoiding her and now that they were back in school, he pretty much ignored her completely. It was awful.
“Are you okay?” she asked Maggie as they washed the plates after eating.
“Sure,” Maggie said. “Just tired.”
“Oh.” Morgan studied her nearly perfect sister from the corner of her eye. Maggie had haphazardly wiped away the butterfly painted on her cheek, and her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair mussed like she’d been running anxious fingers through it. “Was Griffin at Fall Fest?”
Maggie stilled, then flipped off the faucet. “He was there with a woman. A date, I think.”
“I’m sorry.” One more thing for Morgan to feel guilty about. Her sister’s relationship with Griffin had gone off the rails after the fire. Apparently Griffin had said some unkind things about Morgan, most of them probably true. But Maggie was loyal, so they’d fought and that was the end of it.
“Me, too,” Maggie whispered.
“Fries before guys,” Morgan teased, hoping to make her sister smile. Needing Maggie to smile.
She did, and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m heading to bed.” Maggie draped the towel she’d been using to dry the dishes over the handle of the stove. Dad had gone to the family room as soon as he’d finished his pie. He’d watch The Tonight Show, Morgan knew, and fall asleep in the tattered recliner he loved.
“Good night.” She hugged Maggie.
“Foods before dudes,” Maggie told her.
Morgan groaned. “So bad, Mags.”
“’Night, Mo-Mo.”
Morgan went up to her room and pulled the phone from her desk drawer. She was supposed to be grounded from it, too, but she’d placed her case upside down on the shelf in Dad’s bedroom and he hadn’t noticed the phone wasn’t in it.
She responded to the flurry of text messages she’d received during her family bonding time, then tucked a pillow under her covers in the shape of a sleeping body and opened the window to her second-story bedroom. A huge maple tree grew just in front of it. Trying to keep her heartbeat steady, she reached for a branch, swung onto it, then shimmied down the trunk.
A car was waiting at the end of the driveway, headlights turned off. With one look over her shoulder at her darkened house, she ran toward it through the shadows, pretending the guilt that flared inside her was excitement instead.
Monday morning, Maggie turned her car up the winding drive that led to Harvest Vineyards for the first time since she and her father had brought Morgan to the Stone family home after the fire.
With less than two weeks until the hospital fund-raiser, she couldn’t avoid it any longer. She’d managed to hold the gala committee meetings at the hospital or at her office in town. Jana Stone, Griffin’s mother, had attended all of them. She either hadn’t noticed—or was polite enough not to comment—on Maggie’s reluctance to make an appearance at the winery.
Today they were meeting to discuss decorations and a seating chart, so it couldn’t be avoided any longer. Although that was exactly what Maggie wanted to do after her run-in with Griffin at Fall Fest. She felt branded by the unexpected kiss, all of the emotions she’d locked up tightly now spilling forth, like a dam had broken inside her.
The vineyard seemed almost fallow now that harvest season was over. As she drove closer to the heart of the operations, she could see the rows of vines spread out along acres of land, the leaves turning colors of burnished orange and yellow with the change of seasons.
In contrast to the serenity of the fields, activity bustled outside the new tasting room. Several cars and trucks were parked in front of the building, although Maggie didn’t see Griffin’s Land Cruiser. That wasn’t a guarantee of his absence, so why did disappointment spear through her for a quick moment? It would be easier if she didn’t see him today, she reminded herself. She didn’t want to see him after the kiss. Better for both of them.
The building had a rustic farmhouse exterior with a stone veneer covering the bottom half. There were two chimneys and rough-hewn trusses that spanned the length of the building. A covered patio area took advantage of the expansive views of the vineyard below, and she could imagine tourists and locals alike enjoying long summer evenings around the built-in fire pit. The space was incredible and would definitely attract new visitors to the winery.
She took a deep breath as she exited her Volkswagen. The earthy scent of decaying leaves filled the air and although the vineyard was only twenty minutes from downtown, it felt like a world away. Had the property seemed this magical when it had been a regular farm, before Griffin’s late father, Dave, had planted the first grapes that would transform the land and his family’s fortunes?
“Hey, Maggie.”
She turned to see her former fiancé moving toward her. It had only been four months since her runaway-bride move at the local church, where half the town had been waiting to see the powerful Spencer and Stone families united, but to her it felt like ages since she’d been with Trevor.
Well, ages wasn’t too far off since the bedroom had never played a big role in their relationship. Theirs had been a union of convenience and practicality. Despite what he’d done to her and the price her reputation had paid for not revealing his betrayal, no emotion pinged through Maggie at the sight of him. Unlike with Griffin.
Trevor was safe, which was part of the reason she’d been with him in the first place.
“Hi, Trevor.” She smiled and allowed him to give her a quick hug. “The building looks great.”
He inclined his head. “I hate to give Griffin any credit, but he did a decent job.” Trevor was a couple inches shorter than his brother and considerably leaner, with neatly trimmed hair and the kind of expensively tailored clothes that would have been more appropriate for the big city. Maggie had never quite understood what had made him return to his family’s winery after college, although he was quite talented at his job as vice president of marketing for the vineyard.
In the five years since Trevor had taken over, Harvest had gone from a well-respected but relatively unknown winery to a national darling with several national and international award-winning vintages. Of course, a big part of the success was the quality of the wine, but Trevor’s efforts at marketing and branding played a part, as well.
“It’s more than decent,”
