Boardroom Rivals, Bedroom Fireworks!. Kimberly LangЧитать онлайн книгу.
Max’s death had left them all scrambling these last few weeks, just trying to sort out the wide range of Max’s businesses and projects. In a way it had helped her grieve as well; she hadn’t been able to lose herself in her grief as she’d wanted to, and the pain seemed a little easier to deal with when she could concentrate on keeping Max’s beloved winery running smoothly.
Ted didn’t look relieved.
“After the crush I’ll make an appointment with the lawyers and we’ll get it all sorted out.” She patted his shoulder fondly. “Go on home. We’ve got several very busy days ahead of us.”
“In other words, I should see my daughter while I can?”
“Yep.” The crush would give them all something to focus on. And when it was over she would have proved to everyone she was more than capable of shouldering the responsibility Max left her.
“Do you want to come to the house for dinner? You know you’re always welcome, and Dianne will happily feed you.”
It was tempting, very tempting, but she really needed to learn to cope on her own. Dianne had been mothering her way too much in the weeks since Max had died, and she needed to be strong now. She needed to be a grown-up. “Thanks, but no. Give my goddaughter a kiss for me, though, okay?”
“Will do.” With a wave, Ted was gone, leaving her standing in the shadow of the main house alone, while his long legs covered the distance to the little house quickly. She could see the lights on upstairs in the apartment over the wine shop, which he shared with Dianne and baby Chloe.
She’d left a light on in the house as well, because she hadn’t gotten used to coming home to a silent and dark house yet. She wondered if she ever would. Maybe after the craziness of the crush was over she’d get a puppy. It would keep her company, make the house feel less empty, and give her someone to talk to when she got home at night.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway as habit directed her toward the office—just her office now, since Max was gone—where the winery’s paperwork waited for her. As always, the work gave her something to do, a way to fill the long evenings.
Pressing “play” on the stereo filled the room with music and chased the dreadful silence away. Max’s huge desk dominated the space, and she turned her chair away from his empty one as she tried to focus on the invoices and orders that kept her inbox overflowing no matter how much time she spent on them.
But her usual focus wouldn’t come. Ted’s earlier question had brought everything she was trying so hard to repress right back to the forefront of her mind.
Amante Verano would make it to the top of Jack’s to-do list eventually, and she had no idea how she’d handle that once it did. Avoidance—her time-honored and safe way of dealing with anything Jack-related—wasn’t going to work this time. She had to make this work, because she couldn’t run a business if she couldn’t talk to her business partner.
The thought of Jack brought up all kinds of feelings she didn’t want to deal with. Their history was just too complicated to pretend it didn’t exist. Max had been her mentor, her friend, her surrogate father, and she, Max, and her mom had been a happy—if slightly oddly configured—family. Jack, not solely by his choice, had never been a part of that. Add in their private history, and the whole mess would put any soap opera plot to shame.
But she’d have to meet with Jack eventually. The thought kicked her heartbeat up a notch, and all the cleansing breaths in the world couldn’t help calm it. She needed to be an adult about this. She needed to concentrate on the present and not let the past interfere.
Her glib response to Ted was starting to sound pretty good: a meeting on neutral ground, with lawyers doing most of the talking so she wouldn’t have to. This was business, not personal, and surely she could swallow all the competing emotions long enough to get through a business meeting.
Many years ago Jack had told her how important it was to keep her personal life from rolling over into her business dealings. “Don’t ever let one affect the other,” he’d said. It was a major point of pride with him, and it seemed to work well as he expanded Garrett Properties all down the west coast.
Jack would want to keep this strictly business. If she could do that, it would make things a lot easier. For everyone, but most especially for her and her sanity.
Brenna took a deep breath, feeling a little better after her self-therapy session. They could come to a workable situation. One that was business only and ignored all the messiness of the past.
The fact she’d been crazy enough to marry him once wouldn’t be a problem at all.
Jack sincerely hoped insanity didn’t run in the family. That Max’s will was merely an act of early-onset senility caused by too much wine over the years, or even some kind of weird joke on Max’s part. There had to be an explanation, and he’d love to have just five minutes with his father to find out what the punch line was supposed to be.
Otherwise, insanity was the only explanation he had for the fact he now owned half of a winery in Sonoma. Him personally—not the company.
And the other half belonged to Brenna Walsh.
Brenna should be a footnote in his dating history—a cautionary tale about youthful infatuation and reckless decision-making—not a recurring character in his life.
Bad decisions must go hand-in-hand with anything Brenna-related, because he spent most of the drive out to Sonoma questioning his decision to handle this in person. His attorney, Roger, had offered to take care of it, but for some unknown reason, he felt this was a discussion he and Brenna should have face-to-face. The closer he got to the vineyard and Brenna, though, the more he realized this probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. God knew he had enough work on his desk waiting for him, and his trip to New York to negotiate the expansion of Garrett Properties should be his main focus right now, but he’d decided to get this off his plate first.
He rolled his eyes. He should have waited, gotten through more important, more pressing issues first, instead of letting his desire to cut ties with this place override his common sense.
The vines almost covering the sign welcoming him to Amante Verano had matured in the five years since he’d been out here for Brenna’s mother’s funeral, and grapes hung heavily from the canopy. As he turned on to the property the acres of vines laid out in perfectly aligned rows, the white stucco house at the top of the hill, and the weathered wooden winery building created a picturesque scene straight out of a movie’s stock footage file.
Change came slowly to Amante Verano—if it ever came at all—and it looked much the same as it had when Max had bought the winery twelve years ago.
That had been before Max’s hobby had turned into his obsession. Before he’d left San Francisco for good and moved out here full-time to play in his grapes. Before Jack had become the Garrett in charge of Garrett Properties and the responsibility had consumed his entire life.
He drove slowly past the little house—that was Brenna’s free and clear now, even if Max had converted it into the winery’s shop once Brenna and her mother had moved into the main house—and noted the gravel parking lot was empty. Well, it was still early in the day for the tourists on their trips to wine country.
Where to find Brenna? Her lab? The office? He just wanted this over and done with as quickly as possible, so he could get back to civilization and his life. This place hung like an albatross around his neck, and the sooner he could get Brenna’s signature on the documents, the better.
He didn’t even like wine, for God’s sake.
As he crested the next low hill he could see a tractor lumbering its way in the direction of the winery, the trailer overflowing with grapes.
He had never learned the intricacies of grapegrowing or wine-making, and what little he had picked up he’d tried hard to forget, but even he knew it was early for harvesting. A strange turn of events, but it answered his first question nicely.
Brenna