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

  She blinked. Her entire professional life had been building to this moment. It was her time to shine. Her moment to make history.

  “We just started harvesting, so this is the perfect time for you to learn our process for our specialty wines.”

  “You’re just making the seven right now, correct?” Eliza Jane had purchased all seven wines from two different years. While they were good, they should be better.

  She planned on being the person who put The River Winery back on the map as one of the best in the entire country—small vineyard or not.

  Weezer nodded. “I’ll be honest, I always thought my eldest boy would come home and run things, but he’s made it clear that he’s happy in Napa Valley, and the vineyard he works for does treat him well.” She lowered her chin. “Though, no other vineyard will ever put his name on a bottle because of this.” She waved her hand. “But he says he’s just fine with that, and I believe him.”

  Eliza Jane couldn’t help it. She let out a big sigh of relief, but she still had a few nerves rattling around in her gut. “Malbec has no problem with me being here?”

  “You know my son?” Weezer jerked her head. “This is a small industry.”

  “No. But he is well known,” she admitted. “And I did my homework.

  “Of course, you did.” Weezer continued strolling down the path. “I wish Malbec wanted more to do with The River Winery, but he wants the big corporation with all the prestige that comes with it. And I can’t give that to him.”

  “What about your other children?”

  “The twins and our youngest sell our wine across the country. Without Malbec, they aren’t interested in taking over management. Our other kids all have different careers and haven’t the knowledge.” Weezer had a slight tremble in her voice when she spoke about her kids, but her words took on a harsh edge whenever she mentioned Malbec.

  Eliza Jane was more than curious. She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from asking more probing questions. As a small child, her father used to tug at her hair and call her Curious George every time she became too inquisitive.

  “You will get the opportunity to meet the whole clan next weekend.” Weezer beamed with pride. “Even Malbec is taking some time off work to grace us with his presence.”

  Eliza Jane coughed and swallowed her breath. She figured she’d end up meeting the man, the legend, but she’d thought it might happen over Thanksgiving or Christmas. Not this soon.

  She worried he might see her as a threat.

  Which, in a way, she was. But only if he wanted her to be.

  She wiggled her fingers as she followed Weezer through the rows of fine grapes. While the buildings, property, and presentation of the winery needed a shit ton of work, the vineyards themselves were in tiptop shape.

  That would make her job a lot easier when it came to making quality wine.

  Now, all she had to do was restore beauty to the winery and its reputation for being one of the best places in all of New Jersey.

  “You never really answered my question about how Malbec feels about me taking over as manager.”

  “As long as I don’t sell the place, he’s okay,” Weezer said.

  “I don’t mean to sound rude or anything,”—her heart lurched to the back of her throat—“and I don’t mean to ask such a personal and perhaps insensitive question, but what will happen when you’re no longer—?”

  “You want to know what happens when I’m dead, don’t you?”

  Eliza Jane’s father was likely rolling over in his grave and whispering that this was none of Eliza Jane’s business. Only it was. This was her future. Her last chance to make the kind of mark in the wine world that she’d always dreamed of doing, and she wouldn’t let anyone take it from her.

  Not even the owners’ son.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “That is a good question, and something we need to sit down and discuss with Malbec.”

  Eliza Jane’s heart dropped like a cement brick, plummeting to the depths of the deepest sea.

  “Don’t worry. If you work out, as stipulated in your contract, I want to make sure that you will stay on if my family continues running the winery.”

  The agreement was for one year. If Eliza Jane proved her worth, they’d offer her a more permanent role—and her own line. If not, they’d send her packing.

  She believed in herself so much that she knew the latter wouldn’t happen.

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then perhaps your time here will give you an option to buy. But that’s putting the cart before the horse now, isn’t it?” Weezer looped her arm through Eliza Jane’s and guided her through the maze of grapevines and toward the far side of the vineyard, where a small river wove its way through the property. “How about I show you where you will be living?” She pointed to a small building. “I’ve had it cleaned and made sure you have a new mattress and sofa since the other one was about twenty years old. It’s basically a studio, but you’ll have everything you need.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. And I like the idea of living where I can see the vineyard.”

  “A small access road runs on the other side where you can drive your car. I’m sorry there is no carport, but Carter and the twins should be able to build you one before the snow gets too bad.”

  “I would appreciate that.” While this small cottage on the river’s edge was going to be where she lay her head for the next year, she was going to make Candlewood Falls her home.

  Permanently.

  3

  Malbec

  Malbec decided to take the red eye a day early. In part because his mother always enjoyed it when he surprised her with an early visit, but also because he wanted to have a conversation with his father about the sale of the family winery. He was positive that his dad wouldn’t let the vineyard go without getting top dollar. Malbec’s heart grew heavy as he pulled down the access road leading to the cottage by the river.

  He’d lived there a couple of summers when he’d come home from college, and every time he came back for a visit since. His mother always tried to get him to stay with her, but she often didn’t understand personal space. And if he stayed with his father, his mom would end up crashing there. At least at the cottage, he’d have a little privacy.

  “What the hell?” he whispered as he parked next to a small SUV. Perhaps his mother was having it cleaned for his arrival. That made sense.

  He yanked his suitcase from the trunk of the rental before locking it. He pulled his keys from his computer backpack and strolled across the brick pathway. A million bittersweet memories flooded his brain. He loved this piece of land. It was a part of him and no matter where he was in the world, something always reminded him of home.

  He opened the front door and set his bags by the small table. “Nice,” he whispered. His mother had finally gone and splurged on a new sofa. He furrowed his brow. The bed wasn’t made, and the closet door was open, with clothes hanging inside—women’s clothing.

  That didn’t make any sense.

  The sound of water rattling the pipes tickled his ears.

  He eased toward the bathroom door and pounded on it twice. “Who’s in there?”

  The sound of a female screaming filled the room. The click of the lock echoed. “I have a gun, and I’m calling the police.”

  “I think I’m the one who should be dialing 9-1-1 since my family owns this place. Now, who the hell are you, and why are you in my mother’s cottage?”

  “I work here,” the woman behind the door said. “I’m the new winemaker and manager. Weezer is letting me rent the cottage.”

  “My mom would never, in a million years, let anyone besides herself—or maybe me—make River Wine,” he mumbled. His mother had sworn to him that she’d sell the place before she let that happen, and since none of his siblings had neither the knowledge nor the desire, that was the only option.

  Maybe it was time the family let go and let someone else make this plac
e theirs.

  “Please, open this door. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I just want to know who you are and why you’re staying in the cottage that is normally reserved for family.”

  “I will do no such thing. You’d better leave now, or you will have to answer to the police.”

  “That’s not going to be a problem. As I said, my family owns the winery.” He scratched his head, contemplating his next move. He really hadn’t wanted to tell his mother that he was in Candlewood Falls yet, but perhaps he should give her a shout. He pulled his cell from his back pocket and let out a long breath. This conversation would suck. It was one thing to show up on his mother’s doorstep with a bouquet and a smile. But to call her? He rubbed his ear. That would surely piss her off, and that was the last thing he needed. “Hey, Siri. Call Mother.”

  She answered on the second ring. “Hello, Malbec. Are you all packed?”

  “I’m that and more,” he said. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to promise me you won’t start yelling or hang up on me.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no point in putting off the inevitable. The longer he waited, the worse her response would be. “Who is staying at the cottage and why?”

  “The only way you’d know that is if you were already here. And if that’s the case, I’m not sure whether I’m thrilled to death or so angry I want to put you six feet under in an unmarked grave where no one can find the body.”

  He chuckled. His mother always spoke her mind and said things that no one else would dare. Once, when he was about seventeen and stole a bottle of wine to impress some girl, his mother had commented about how she should kill him, only that would land her in jail. She’d said that in front of half the town, who’d all let out a collective gasp. As if his mom would ever lay a hand on any of her kids. She was actually a very kind and loving woman, but the town never really saw that side of her. Only her family did.

  “Mom, please just answer my question. I’m standing in the cottage, and some girl has locked herself in the bathroom. She threatened to call the police, and she says she’s the new winemaker and manager. That makes no sense when you’re about to sell the winery.”

  The door flew open, and out stepped the most gorgeous woman Malbec had ever laid eyes on. Her long, auburn brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she wore only a sports bra and a pair of spandex workout shorts. He didn’t think she had a stitch of makeup on, and her blue eyes were as bright as the Mediterranean Sea.

  He blinked as his jaw slackened and cleared his throat as he desperately tried not to look her up and down.

  “What is this about selling the winery?” the lady asked.

  “My mom has a buyer. That’s why I came home. To help her with the negotiations.”

  The woman shook her head vigorously. “That is not what she told me.” She stuck out her hand. “May I please speak with her?”

  His mother was yelling in his ear that there had been a misunderstanding and about poor communication and a bunch of other things he really didn’t understand. “Mom. Please be quiet for one second.” He held up his hand. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

  The woman pursed her lips and glared. “If you must know, it’s Eliza Jane Blue.”

  “Mother. What exactly did you do, and why am I here? Because I get the distinct feeling that both Eliza Jane and I are stuck in the middle of one of the manipulations you honestly believe are in everyone’s best interests.”

  The phone went dead.

  “Shit.” He tossed his cell onto the sofa and plopped himself on the recliner. “Is it too early to start drinking?” He rubbed his temples. “When did my mom hire you?”

  “I’m not sure I should discuss my employment contract with you.” She scooted across the room and took down a couple of mugs, waving one in his direction.

  “This might help you spill the details.” He nodded at her unasked question. “My mom asked me to come home because she decided she couldn’t run this place any longer and said she found a buyer and wanted my help with the details.”

  “I think that calls for a shot of Baileys.” She pulled down a bottle from one of the cabinets and added it to the coffee. “I started working last week. My contract is for a year. If things work out, I get to stay on and start my own label under The River Winery. If none of you kids want this place, I have an option to buy—or at the very least stay on, since it’s apparent that you don’t want it.” She waved her hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but since we’re in this very awkward position, I might as well be honest at this point.”

  “Jesus. My mother is fucking brilliant.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Eliza Jane handed him the large mug and sat on the sofa.

  He couldn’t help but admire her pure beauty. She was stunning. Breathtaking. He wouldn’t dare describe her as model-like. That would be too insulting. She was natural, and he suspected that she had the ability to fit in wherever she went.

  “I’m not sure what my mom’s end game is, but she’s either trying to force my hand, bringing me home to run The River Winery, or she has something even weirder in mind. It’s the latter that absolutely terrifies me.” Mostly because if they weren’t in Candlewood Falls, and his mother wasn’t involved, he’d be inclined to ask Eliza Jane out on a date.

  But that would never happen. It couldn’t because his mother meddled way too much in his personal life. She meant well, but it never ended well.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did she run an ad for a new winemaker? Did you apply for this job?”

  “No. She pursued me.”

  “I can’t believe my father let her do this.” Malbec took a large gulp of his coffee, enjoying the burn and the alcohol. He laughed. “What the hell am I thinking? My dad couldn’t have stopped her if he tried.”

  “I’m really lost.”

  “And I’m really sorry that you got stuck in the middle of this twisted game.” He leaned forward. “Are you interested in purchasing my family’s winery?”

  “Maybe someday. But I’m not in a position to do it now.”

  “That’s too bad. Because I need to talk my mother into selling it. She can’t handle it anymore and—”

  “That’s why she hired me.”

  “No,” Malbec said. “She’s playing matchmaker. She knows the kind of woman I’m attracted to, and she went out and found one that fits both the bill in the looks department and probably in the brains and everything else department, too.”

  Eliza Jane bolted to her feet. “I seriously doubt that. And you’re one egotistical man.”

  “Again. No. I just know my mother. She likely hoped that by bringing me home under the pretense that she’d found a buyer, I’d meet you, get all lovestruck, and maybe a little jealous over what you’re doing here at what is my family’s winery, and then I’d move back. That’s all she’s ever wanted.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “That’s my mom. I love her to pieces, but she does some really insane things, all in the name of what she thinks is best for her family. Sadly, it’s driven most of us away.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving,” Eliza Jane said, puffing out her chest.

  “Okay. But I’m going to find a buyer for this place. My mom can’t do it anymore, and I know my dad is done with it. It might have been in the family for generations, but all good things must come to an end, and The River Winery has run its course.” He set the mug on the coffee table. “I’m sorry I barged in on you. Thanks for the coffee. I’m sure I’ll see you around while I’m in town.” He nodded. “Have a wonderful day.” Now, it was time to go hunt down his mother. He had a few choice words for her, and for the first time in his life, he wouldn’t let her tug his ear—or chew him out or have the last word.

  Weezer

  Weezer tapped the red button on her cell phone screen and set it on the nightstand
. “I really fucked up this time.” She heard Carter’s feet hit the floor as he slipped from the bed. She glanced over her shoulder. “Aren’t you going to tell me you told me so? Or give me some big lecture on meddling?”

  “Nope, because I went along with it when I knew it would blow up in your face.” Carter hiked up his jeans and planted his hands on his hips. “But now I am going to fix this fucking mistake. Hopefully, we won’t lose our son for good this time.” He yanked open one of the dresser drawers and pulled out a T-shirt. Carter didn’t drop the F-bomb.

  Ever.

  As a matter of fact, the last time Weezer had heard him use the cuss word had been the day she’d told him that she wanted a divorce. That she thought they’d be better off living separate lives. He’d always been so damn understanding, and that bugged the shit out of her, though she had no idea why. Maybe it was because her father had been such a bastard to her mother, or perhaps it was because her dad had told her a million times that she didn’t deserve a man like Carter.

  Hell if she knew why she’d spent half her life pushing the only man that ever truly loved her away, and then her own flesh and blood. But it was high time she stopped the madness.

  Only she kept going back to the only behavior she’d ever known. It had saved The River Winery from ruin when her father and grandfather owned it. And she’d kept up the façade. She thought she had to; because if anyone knew the truth about the winery, she could lose everything.

  And she couldn’t let that happen.

  “Carter,” she said softly. “I know I screwed up, but I thought I’d be able to fix it before it blew up in my face. I didn’t think Malbec would come home a day early and show up at the cottage unannounced.”

  “He’s a good man, and I bet he wanted to surprise you. He’s got a kind heart that way. And now, he’s pissed.” Carter ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “And, frankly, I don’t blame him. We shouldn’t have lied to him.”

  “I know,” Weezer said as she found her robe and cinched the tie tight around her waist. “I thought if—”