Rivers Edge: A Candlewood Falls Novel (The River Winery Book 1) Read online

  Rivers Edge

  A Candlewood Falls Novel

  Jen Talty

  RIVERS EDGE

  A Candlewood Falls Novel

  The River Winery Series, Book 1

  by

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  JEN TALTY

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  RIVERS EDGE

  Copyright © 2021 by Jen Talty

  ISBN: 978-1-63827-019-5

  ISBN: 978-1-63827-018-8

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for supporting the author’s rights.

  Printed in the USA

  To all the ladies in Building D. It’s wine time!

  Have we got a story for you!

  Dear Readers:

  Welcome to Candlewood Falls!

  Each Candlewood Falls story stands alone. However, the end of one story doesn’t mean the end of your favorite characters. They can show up in any Candlewood Falls book at any time.

  Candlewood Falls is a unique world of connected stories by different authors whose characters, business, and events appear in each others’ stories.

  Think of Candlewood Falls as a literary soap opera.

  Be sure to check out the the other authors and discover which other books include your favorite characters.

  Happy reading!

  Stacey Wilk & K.M Fawcett & Jen Talty

  Contents

  1. Malbec

  2. Eliza Jane

  3. Malbec

  4. Malbec

  5. Malbec

  6. Malbec

  7. Eliza Jane

  8. Weezer

  9. Eliza Jane

  10. Malbec

  11. Malbec

  12. Malbec

  13. Eliza Jane

  14. Eliza Jane

  Epilogue

  Ready for another trip to Candlewood Falls?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Jen Talty

  1

  Malbec

  Malbec River set his cell, screen up, on the counter. While it was only seven in the morning where he lived, it was ten in Candlewood Falls, New Jersey. If it were really important, his mother wouldn’t bother to leave a message. She’d hang up and send a text demanding that he answer the phone when she called in about five minutes.

  If she had the patience to wait that long.

  Otherwise, she would move on to one of her other six children she’d successfully pushed away.

  Of course, everything these days seemed painfully important in Weezer River’s life. Just because Malbec was the oldest didn’t mean it was his job to talk his mom off the ledge every single time something happened at the winery that she didn’t like.

  Which seemed to be an everyday occurrence, and why Malbec wanted her to really consider doing the one thing she’d swore she’d never do.

  He pulled down an oversized coffee mug and set it under the Keurig.

  His mother’s name flashed across the screen.

  Mother: I know you’re awake. If you’re not alone, good for you, but this is important. Pick up the damn phone.

  He rolled his eyes as he stirred in some cream and sugar. He didn’t know what was worse: His mom’s constant questions about his love life or the lack thereof.

  Or the fact that she was still trying to get him to move from Napa Valley—where he had a job with one of the best wineries in the country—to go work for the failing family business that he’d been trying to get her to sell.

  The phone buzzed just as he brought the mug to his lips, and the coffee burned the roof of his mouth. He tapped the screen. “Good morning, Mother.”

  “Don’t Mother me,” she said. “I hate that.”

  “Would you rather I call you Weezer?”

  She let out an audible sigh. “It’s just that when you say it that way, it makes me think you’re not happy to hear from me.”

  He stepped out onto the patio and inhaled the fresh scent of grapes. He chuckled because it reminded him of home.

  There was plenty to miss about Candlewood Falls, but being Weezer River’s son in a small town had been something he ran from the second he graduated high school. Between his parents’ divorce—which was only on paper and living space since they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other—and his mother’s manipulative ways and inability to let anyone other than her make decisions regarding the winery, it kept him from going back.

  Besides, no place in the country was better for him to do what he loved more than anything than Napa.

  He could cultivate grapes and make some of the most delicious wines that money could buy.

  If nothing else, his mom was proud of his talents, even if she never once hinted that she cared. Deep down, he knew his mother puffed out her chest every time she talked about Malbec and his accomplishments. It was impossible for her not to boast about her children.

  “I still have no idea where I got that nickname from.”

  Malbec burst out laughing. Cordy Wilde had given his mother the name when she was a teenager. Over the years, the story had changed and grown, but it started when his mother snuck out one night to meet his father and Cordy caught them in somewhat of a compromising position and the nickname had something to do with the noises Cordy heard.

  It’s also rumored that Malbec was conceived that night.

  But that might be a bit of a tall tale.

  “I’m so glad I can amuse you, child.”

  “You always do.” He set his mug on the table and pulled out a chair. The morning sun hit his face, and he blinked. If he were being honest, he missed his family—all of them, including his mother.

  Especially his mom.

  As difficult as that was to admit.

  “What is so important that you had to interrupt morning sex? I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with that story about my ex-girlfriend.”

  “Good Lord. No. And please don’t ever mention that woman in my presence again. But the first sentence got me all excited. Do you have a girl with you? Who is she? Is she in the wine business? Are you going to bring her home? More importantly, does that mean you’re coming home for good?”

  He shook his head. He should know better than to get the Weezer going. “I was joking, Ma.”

  “I know. You do this to me every time.” She laughed. “But you’re not getting any younger, you know. I had four kids by the time I was your age.”

  “And you and Dad were driving each other so crazy, you ended up divorced.”

  “We still had three more kids after that.”

  “Yes. I’m well aware of the twins and my baby sister.” His family had sure given the town something to talk about. He waved to his neighbor as he strolled to the mailbox to get his paper. Malbec had to admit, he’d grown tired of living in a one-bedroom apartment by himself. At thirty-eight years old, he had to agree with his mother.

  It was time to start a family.

  Only he had no prospects, and according to his father, he was too damn picky. However, if he listened to his sister, Zinfandel, he was waiting for his mother to actually
find him his perfect match.

  Now that was hysterical.

  Most people might say he was the spitting image of his dad, but it was the personality traits he’d inherited from his mother that seemed to be a turn-off when it came to long-haul relationships.

  Or maybe it was just his mom.

  The last girlfriend he’d brought home had made it perfectly clear that she did not care for his mother and wouldn’t have anything to do with her or New Jersey. Malbec might only go home a few times a year, and his mom was a lot of things, but he still loved her. And Candlewood Falls would always be a huge part of what made him tick. So, any woman he planned on going the long haul with had to appreciate everyone in his family—and Candlewood Falls.

  “I have to admit, I’m always hoping there’s a girl.” His mother’s voice sounded more disappointed than anything else.

  “You and me both,” he said. “Now, what can I do for you this morning?”

  “I need you to come home.”

  “Why?” He raised his mug to his lips. “As in right now? Is everyone okay?”

  Outside of Thanksgiving, Easter, and Christmas—which Malbec always returned for—his mom and dad constantly looked for reasons to pull him back. He’d told his dad that he’d do it on two conditions.

  That was if he got to run the winery the way he saw fit, and if his mom filled him on the big secret.

  That was something Weezer River would never do. Ever.

  “I have a buyer for The River Winery.”

  He spit out his coffee. “Crap,” he mumbled. “Are you shitting me?” He wiped his mouth with his hand. He wanted to ask his mother about the secret his grandfather had spoken of on his deathbed, but he didn’t want to start an argument about something his mom had made perfectly clear she would never fill him in on.

  Not even if Malbec did the one thing his mother wanted more than anything in the world and came home to run the winery. So, what the hell was the point in bringing it up?

  “Nope. She’ll be here in a couple of days. I’m hoping we can close the deal, but I need your help.”

  “When did you put it on the market?” Sucking in a sharp breath, he tapped his chest. Weezer River was not the kind of woman who asked anyone for help. While the family business did well enough, for Malbec, it could do better. And for him to put his name on a bottle of wine, it had to be the best. His mother was too stubborn to change her ways and get with the times.

  Or, more importantly, listen to her eldest son, who happened to be an expert in the field.

  “I didn’t. She came to me. And she’s the perfect person since none of my kids wants to run the winery.” His mother’s voice was laced with the same tinge of frustration she always had when the topic came up.

  The problem wasn’t that Malbec didn’t want it; he just wanted it on his terms. And he knew his mother would stand over him with a watchful eye as if he were a toddler.

  “And you’re seriously considering selling it?” he asked. Part of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop. His mother was a kind and loving mom, but as a person and a businesswoman, she could be ruthless. And this was one of those situations where if he didn’t hold onto his hat, she’d take it.

  “I’m pushing sixty. I want to enjoy my golden years.”

  Another chuckle tickled his throat. His mom was not only young, but she would also probably outlive them all. “What is it that you need from me?” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat that told him not to trust his mom and this information. But if there was anything he needed to know, his family would let him know. He quickly pulled up his text messages.

  Nothing from his siblings or his father.

  This must really be on the up and up. No way could his mother have a buyer and keep that juicy piece of intel from her husband or her other children—or anyone else in the town.

  Holy shit. Malbec was getting his wish, and he wasn’t really sure how he felt about that.

  “I want to know if she’s capable. And since you’re better at this than I am…”

  He coughed. He should have known. “What are you really up to?” Only on rare occasions did his mother hand out compliments. Usually, it was reserved for when she talked to someone else or wanted something.

  “Malbec. I’m tired. I’ve been doing this for as long as I can remember, and when Grandpa died and left it all to me at the ripe old age of nineteen, I thought I was on top of the world. Now, it sucks the life out of me. And if you’ve made a good name for yourself out there in Napa, I accept that.”

  He checked the time. “Did you go hang out with the gossip ladies this morning and drink a ton of mimosas?”

  “Seriously, Malbec. Put a fork in me, I’m done. Now, can you come home and help me? Your father is useless.”

  “I am not.” His father’s voice boomed in the background.

  Malbec shook his head. “Hey, Dad. It would have been nice to know that I was speaking with both of you.”

  “I literally just walked into the winery and overheard that last part,” his father said.

  “So, is Mom really selling? And are you okay with that?” Malbec stood and took his mug back into the kitchen. If his father had been part of any of those discussions, then it had to be true.

  “Do I really need to explain how this works to you, again? Your mother gets whatever she wants.”

  Oh, boy. This would be a long rant.

  It always was, and there was no point in trying to cut his father off at the pass. When Carter River got started on a story, there was no stopping him.

  “She didn’t want to get married at first when we had you, so we didn’t. When she got pregnant with Chablis, she went out and found the ring she wanted. When she wanted a divorce and to sleep in different houses, well, that was simple enough. She’s not an easy woman to live with, but she is an easy one to love.”

  Malbec wanted to argue that point, but he knew better.

  More importantly, he really wanted to repeat the question. However, he figured that would be a bad idea. In his father’s mind, he’d answered it.

  “I do have some vacation time I can use, but I can’t be there until next weekend.” Malbec rinsed his cup and set it in the dishwasher. “I probably won’t be able to stay for more than a week.”

  “That should do it,” his mother agreed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ve got to run,” his mom said. “I love you. Send me your flight information.”

  “Love you both.” He tapped the screen and set his cell on the counter. “Holy shit,” he whispered. When he was a small child, he’d dreamed about running The River Winery. But when he went off to college, between his mother’s manipulations and spending some time working at a world-class vineyard in Napa Valley, it’d sealed his fate.

  However, it would be nice for his folks if he spent a little time in Candlewood Falls. Maybe Caleb would show up.

  That made Malbec laugh. The last time he’d seen Caleb, he’d been arrested for a crime he didn’t commit and then basically chased out of town, never to return.

  Malbec would text him anyway.

  Just in case.

  Weezer

  Weezer River couldn’t help but smile, even though her heart pounded so fast in her chest she thought she might actually have a heart attack.

  For real this time.

  “I can’t believe I’m going along with this bullshit.” Carter leaned against the counter in the winery’s gift shop, folded his muscular arms, and shook his head.

  With his broad frame, silver hair, ice-blue eyes, and even his disapproving glare, he was still the sexiest man Weezer had ever met—she just couldn’t live with him.

  Not on a regular basis anyway.

  But there were times she wished she hadn’t ended the marriage. That had been a mistake. Hell, she’d questioned everything she’d done since finding out the truth about the winery.

  “Don’t you want our firstborn back where he belongs?” She quickly
finished the list for the morning staff and set her pen on the counter. She picked up the so-called family crest. She often wondered if there was a real family heirloom out there somewhere and not some fake one that her grandfather had handed down through the generations.

  Her father had sworn to her that his father and his father’s father had no idea that it was a fake, but a small part of Weezer didn’t believe that. Especially when she’d found out the truth about how The River Winery had landed in her grandfather’s hands to begin with.

  “You all but ran him out.”

  “I did not. Why do you always put that on me? It’s not like you didn’t put it in his head that his talents might be better used somewhere else.” Only she did chase her son away, as she did all her kids, and she knew it. But she’d never admit to it. Not yet. Maybe once Malbec was home. With a wife. And had given her a grandkid or two.

  Okay. Just home. She could live with that.

  If he came back, the rest would follow. Though the twins weren’t that far away, and Zinfandel lived in town. The rest all lived within an hour’s drive. But still.

  The point was to get her family back together after she’d all but torn them apart once. She found out about her grandfather’s secret. To this day, it still haunted her. The only person she’d ever confided in was Carter. And if anyone else ever found out, the fine people of Candlewood Falls wouldn’t simply point and whisper, “Watch out. There’s Weezer.” No. It would be the kind of scandal that shook the town worse than when Caleb had gone to jail for something he didn’t do.