Second Chance In Stonecreek. Michelle MajorЧитать онлайн книгу.
understand, but there are still consequences to your actions, young lady.”
“I’m not so young,” she shot back.
“You’re sixteen.”
“Duh. It’s a wonder you even remember.”
“Attitude isn’t going to help, Morgan.” Her dad’s tone had turned abnormally disapproving. Jim Spencer was a big man. At fifty-one, his shoulders remained broad and only a sprinkling of silver darted his thick brown hair. Tonight he wore faded jeans and a ratty sweatshirt. From the earthy scent emanating from him, Morgan knew he’d spent the evening in his art studio. He spent most of his time there, immersed in the casts and sculptures that seemed dearer to him than his own children.
Morgan was probably the only one who cared about inattentiveness. Maggie had been fifteen when their mother died. She’d grown up quickly, stepping in to help raise Morgan and their younger brother, Ben, who was fourteen now and taller than Morgan. Ben had always been easy—‘the Buddha baby,’ Dad had called him. As long as he had snacks and video games, that boy was happy. Grammy had helped with all of them, but Maggie had always been the apple of Vivian Spencer’s eye. Morgan’s sister was smart and driven, polished and self-possessed in a way Morgan could never be.
Had never tried to be. She was the black sheep of the family, more so now that she was in high school and her inclination toward rebellion had found an outlet with the fast kids at her high school. She tended to fade into the background in the face of Maggie’s perfection and Ben’s affable nature. So when she’d discovered that she could get attention from the popular kids at school just by doing stupid things like playing chicken on the train tracks or toilet papering the principal’s house, it had been fun. It made her feel like she belonged for the first time in her life. Who wouldn’t want to belong?
But apparently she couldn’t ignore her father when he decided to come out of his studio and play at being a responsible parent.
“I know,” she relented with a shrug. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m trying.”
“You are,” he agreed, and she knew he meant it.
Guilt washed over her in response.
She hadn’t meant to damage the building out at Harvest Vineyards. She’d been over the moon for a stupid boy, earning herself months of grounding and a one-way ticket to working the whole summer to pay for repairs to the tasting room building. She’d also lost her chance with Cole Maren, not that she’d ever really had him.
A boy like Cole wouldn’t have time for a girl like her.
“Want a piece of marionberry pie before bed?” her dad asked. “Your grandmother brought one over earlier.”
Morgan’s stomach 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