Marina Adair - Autumn in the Vineyard

Frankie’s breath rushed out of her. She heard people calling her name and felt congratulatory pats on the back but all she would do was look up at Nate. There was no surprise, no hesitation, no ulterior motives.

He knew. Knew she would win.

“How did you know?”

He turned to face her, but still didn’t take her in his arms. “Because it’s you in a bottle, Frankie. What can beat that?”

At his words Frankie had to fight the urge to launch herself into his arms at the overwhelming sense of happiness that filled her chest. This was what Nate had been talking about. This was what it felt like to connect, trust, open up and share. This was the completely, one hundred percent, forever kind of right.

But when he still didn’t move, still didn’t put his arms around her she asked, “Why aren’t you kissing me?”

He laughed. “Because your grandfather is watching. Nora has her phone aimed this way. I’m pretty sure your brother is packing. And if you need another reason, the last time I did that, you kneed me in the nuts. So, sweet cheeks, if you want that kiss, you have to make the first move.”

And move she did. Fast and furiously, putting her hands on his shoulders and rolling up on her tiptoes, not stopping until their mouths collided. Right there in the middle of St. Helena Community Park, in front their families and most of the town.

His mouth met hers, soft and giving and so right that she didn’t care if Charles was there, or that Nora had moved to catch it all on tape, or that after this everyone would know that Francesca Baudoiun and Nathaniel DeLuca were a couple. All that mattered was that he had believed in her. And that he was hers.

Hers.

How had that happened? Frankie found someone that she wanted and he wanted her back.

Her fingers slid into his hair and she felt his slide down her back—gentleman that he was, stopping at her waistline. And when his tongue glided over hers all of the earlier insecurities vanished and were replaced by hope.

It had been a long time since Frankie had allowed herself to get caught up in the dream of something more. With wine she was bold, a risk taker. With her heart she was usually so cautious, convincing herself it was better to go it alone than risk knowing what you’re missing out on. But nothing about her feelings for Nate would allow her to proceed cautiously.

Frankie pulled back and ended the kiss. Partly because people were cheering now, and the mayor was calling for a representative from Red Steel Cellars to please come to the stage. But mostly she pulled back, because if he kept kissing her like that, she’d forget what she wanted to say.

“Okay?”

Nate tilted his head to the side. “Okay, what?”

“I want to go with you to your family’s party tonight. As long as you know that I don’t cook.”

“Oh, honey, I think you made that clear last night.”

Right, when they had pizza for dinner and Pop Tarts for dessert because she charred the steaks until they were nuggets and her cupcakes collapsed in the middle.

“How about I bring the wine?” she said. “I hear it is a real winner.”

One hour later, Frankie stood in Judge Pricket’s private chambers feeling like anything but a winner.

“I don’t understand,” she said. She knew that she hadn’t done anything wrong, but had a gut feeling that in the end none of that would matter. “What kind of grievance?”

Judge Pricket, looking ever so official in his jacket and tie, sat behind his massive desk. To his right, staring enviously at his gavel was Mrs. Rose.

“Someone is claiming that Red Steel was grown, fermented and aged on Baudouin property,” Judge Pricket said.

Frankie would bet the vineyard that someone was Shady Katie or cousin Kenneth. “Yes, sir. That is true, I leased the use of the barrels from my aunt and some of the grapes were grown on Baudouin land, but they are mine. I grew the grapes, harvested them, and aged the wine myself. All by myself.”

“That’s what I told him,” Mrs. Rose harrumphed, arms folded over her ample chest. “And if he hadn’t insisted on taking his claim to court, we’d all be out celebrating instead of in here accusing someone of nothing good.”

“Ed, could I have a word with my granddaughter?” Charles said from the doorway. And just like that, Frankie’s heart broke.

“I think we should call Lucinda. She needs to know what’s going on,” Mrs. Rose said, standing and putting all of her two hundred pounds between Frankie and her grandfather.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Charles said, but his eyes were on Frankie.

“That’s all right, Mrs. Rose. Judge—” Frankie stood as well. So did Pricket. Now they were all standing, waiting for Frankie to finish her thought, but she couldn’t because she knew if she did that she was going to lose everything.

But then she thought of Nate, and how she’d risked her heart with him and he hadn’t let her down. And a small part of her, the little girl who missed her dad, who tried so hard to prove that she was worthy of her grandfather’s love, hoped that maybe this was the time, this would be when she put herself out there and not be let down.

“I think I’d like to talk to my grandpa for a minute alone,” she heard herself say.

“You sure?” Judge Pricket said, resting a hand on her shoulder. Because the judge, just like the rational part of Frankie’s mind, knew that there wasn’t a happy ending to be had. At least not for her.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The room cleared out, leaving Frankie with the one person she’d been trying to get alone for months. Only now she wished her brothers were there, or her aunt. Or Nate.

Charles walked to the empty chair beside Frankie, leaning heavily on his cane, his body deflated with every step he took. He lowered himself and stared at his feet.

“I need you to say that Red Steel is a Baudoiun wine,” he said.

And any hope that Frankie had died. Her heart expanded too fast for her chest to contain and her throat tightened, cutting off all air. “I’ll lose everything. You know that, right?” she said. “Without that wine, I’ll have to sell my grapes and still I won’t be able to pay off Tanner completely. And Katie will deny me the loan.”

“I know,” was all he said. He still hadn’t looked at her, or hadn’t even really spoken to her about what happened over the past few months. He’d just come in and asked her to give up her entire world without giving her anything in return.

“Can I ask why?”

“Because if you don’t, the family will lose everything.” His voice cracked and he cleared it before continuing. “The vineyards, the house, the wine, everything.”

“I thought you only lost half the grapes in Santa Ynez?”

“I may have well lost the entire thing. With only half the expected harvest, I will need to sell each barrel for double the cost and without placing in the cork court…” He shook his head.

“You can’t sell central coast wine for Napa Valley prices,” Frankie finished for him. “So it takes you a few more years to break even. You’ve been here before.”

“Never here.” Finally, he looked up and Frankie wished he hadn’t. Outside of anger and pride, she had never seen her grandfather show much emotion, and she had never seen him cry. But his eyes were red and glassy. “I had to take out a hard money loan.”

“Please tell me you didn’t use the St. Helena property as collateral.”

He gave a shaky nod and Frankie braced herself for the impact his answer would have over her future. “After the mess with the Showdown—”

“You mean when you tried to be sneaky and ruined the family name?” Frankie clarified, because if they were going to go there, then there wasn’t going to be any skating around issues. She wouldn’t get his love, but she would damn well get his honesty.

“Yes, I got greedy, messed up, and the buyer I had lined up for those grapes pulled out. But I found a new buyer,” he said and Frankie already knew where this was going. “Without that title, I can’t get the prices I need to make the first balloon payment.”

Stomach churning, Frankie collapsed back against the chair. “Oh, God, Grandpa. Does Luce know?”

That land meant everything to her aunt. If Charles didn’t make the payment, her aunt would lose her cottage that she loved so much, her garden, and everything that Luce’s father had left her. The entire Baudouin legacy would end.

“And that’s where Red Steel comes in?” she ventured. “He’ll take your supermarket select at a mid-range price if my wine is part of the deal?”

“I’m so sorry, Ches-ka.”

Frankie wasn’t sure if it was the utter sorrow in her grandfather’s apology or the use of her childhood nickname, but her eyes began to burn. “How much is he asking for?”

“All of your bottles and the last two harvests when they age.”

Frankie forced herself to breathe. It didn’t help. She was going to be sick, so she dropped her head between her knees. “That’s all the wine I have.”

“It will get us through until the next payment, which is after the next harvest.”

“You,” she corrected sitting up. “It will get you to the next harvest. It will set me back four or five years.”

“No, Ches-ka. I want you to come home. Come home and work with me. By my side. Make this winery what it used to be. We make a great team.” Charles leaned forward and took her hands in his bony ones.

His touch brought nothing but a deep, resonating sadness and she was surprised that she could feel anything beyond the pain in her chest. She tried to remind herself that he was just trying to save his business, save the family, and that this wasn’t personal. But nothing had ever felt so personal to her before and nothing had ever felt like such a betrayal.