Something Old Read online

  Panic swamped her. Her mind drew a blank. She had no idea what she wanted, had never allowed herself the luxury of having dreams. She had been too focused on getting through each day. She took another deep breath. One thing at a time. Get through the wedding then figure out her next steps.

  She hugged her mother again. “Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll be fine. What do you say to a mother-daughter day tomorrow? Shopping, lunch? Maybe you’re right. I could use some new clothes for the wedding.”

  A broad smile broke out across her mother’s face, reflecting relief and happiness at the idea. “I’d like that. And maybe make a few changes?”

  She turned and caught a glimpse of the old picture of her and the group on the island before their senior year in college. Little had changed in five years. Maybe she didn’t have expensive highlights and lowlights, and her skin wasn’t the deep, even tan she’d always sported in the fall. So much had changed for her, yet so little showed. Maybe it was time for her to make a few changes, move beyond her past. She lifted a lock of her long blond hair.

  “You’re right. I think it’s time to make a change I should have made a long time ago. Are you in?”

  If her mother could turn over a new leaf, so could Delaney. She could start by letting go of the past, by tying up loose ends with her friends, fixing what she broke five years before. Maybe, if they could forgive her, she could somehow forgive herself and move on with her life, whatever that meant.

  The future would take care of itself. Somehow.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan Van Owen studied the two older gentlemen perched on stools at the oak bar in his wine tasting barn. They swirled the wine in their glasses, inhaled deeply then sipped it, swishing the wine a bit before spitting into a bucket discreetly placed next to them for the tasting. They jotted down some notes in their notebooks before repeating the process with the next wine. Subtle instrumental music played in the background, lending an air of elegance to the proceedings. Ethan had learned that atmosphere and appearance meant everything, especially with these men, potential investors who liked to be catered to, if he wanted their money.

  Ethan knew these types. He grew up with them, was one of them once upon a time. Now he was on the other side of the bar and could understand why people thought them all pretentious and obnoxious. He stifled a sigh, pasted on a salesman’s smile, and poured a glass of his Blanc du Bois and waited for their verdict. The white-haired man, older than his partner by several years, pursed his lips then took another sip.

  “What flavor am I tasting? Apple?”

  Ethan smiled, the perfect blend of cool confidence and salesmanship. “Apple and grapefruit. Adds a nice complexity, don’t you think, Gordon?”

  The older man nodded, trying to look wise and knowledgeable. “Very nice. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind taking a couple of bottles of this home for my wife. She prefers white wine.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll grab that for you before we leave. Tom, what do you think?”

  The younger man, Tom Bennington, cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Nice flavor in your wine, Ethan. Your father must be very proud. You turned your grandfather’s hobby into a real competitor.”

  At the mention his father, Ethan’s stomach clenched, but he kept a smooth face. Years of practice as his father’s son ingrained so deeply that five years away working in the fields couldn’t break the habit. He glanced out the barn door behind the men and to the back fields, where his grandfather had started his retirement hobby, the original fields. Once his grandfather had passed away, the farm had been overseen by a half-assed manager. No growth or plan for expansion was ever desired or expected, especially since vineyards in East Texas had been hit hard with disease and poor growing conditions.

  The vineyard might have stayed in this ruinous state if not for the disaster that befell his own life. Needing a break, an escape, he came here, where he’d spent some of his summers, and took over management. Being a Van Owen, he couldn’t drink the profits and sit on his ass and, needing a distraction, he dove into winery management and learned as much as he could. Then he revitalized the fields, drew up a development plan and got to work. He had started with a blend of riesling then switched to a hardier variety, more resistant to the Pierce’s disease that was so predominant in East Texas, to develop the Blanc du Bois wine. The investment was starting to pay off, and his little winery was growing in reputation and popularity. Encouraged, he’d branched out into a few muscadine varieties, to develop a sweet red wine. What had once been an escape was now a vocation, a passion, and he loved the land.

  With success came a desire for more—more wines, more grapes, more success. But more needed capital. Knowing many men in their social circle were always looking for boast-worthy investments, Ethan had reached out to a couple of them, offering a limited partnership so he could expand and grow. He’d get the money he needed and they could talk at dinner parties about how they were part owners of a vineyard and live off the cache. The idea was all these men wanted, and a return on investment. Ethan wanted to retain control and expand. The arrangement suited both parties.

  If only they’d stop dancing around the subject and make up their minds. Tours of the fields, of the wine-making operations and now a tasting was all part of the dog and pony show. Time to ante up.

  Ethan gestured to the prospectus in front of each man. “Would you like to go to my office and discuss any further questions you have?”

  The men exchanged glances, but it was Gordon Lexington who spoke. “I think we’ve seen all we need to. And it’s a nice day. I’d like to stay here and finish my wine, if you don’t mind.”

  Stifling his irritation, Ethan pulled up a stool and sat. “What else can I tell you about our operations?”

  “You’ve been very thorough, Ethan. Your father would be impressed with the prospectus,” Tom replied. “You do understand we’ll need to share this with him, as his firm handles our portfolio now. But I’m sure there won’t be a problem.”

  “Actually, I’m surprised he isn’t here. You did include him in the investment, didn’t you?” Gordon asked.

  Ethan gritted his teeth. He had not discussed his plan with William Van Owen. Lately, his father had been pushing harder and harder for Ethan to return to Houston and take on the mantle of the family business. He considered the vineyard a diversion, nothing more. He was blinded to the business opportunity that Ethan saw. But there was no way around it now. His father would know Ethan had no intention of coming home, not if he planned an expansion. Now came the time for bluffing. Another William Van Owen trick.

  “Of course you should share it with him. But, keep in mind, I brought you in first. I need to prepare soon for the expansion. We do a lot of the preparation in the fall and, if I am going forward with this, then I need to move quickly. So, if you’re not interested, I may need to loop in some other options.”

  Ethan held his breath and waited for their response. To provide an air of nonchalance, he sipped his wine and studied the color in the glass.

  Finally, after long considering glances, the older man spoke. “We still want to share this with your father, but you’ll have an answer within a week. Will that suffice?”

  Ethan suppressed a smile of satisfaction, settling for a cool professional one instead. “Of course, gentlemen. Now, I’ll grab those bottles you requested.”

  As he walked away, the tension didn’t drain away. He might have gotten two investors, but he had to deal with the bigger problem, the one he’d been trying to avoid. His father.

  After the men left, Ethan returned to his office and scrolled through weather reports on his computer. This wedding couldn’t have come at a worse time. Harvesting was ongoing, especially of the muscadine vines but some of the other vines were heavy with grapes and not quite ready for full harvest. In addition, he had maintenance tasks, watching out for disease and bugs, keeping the birds from eating their ripening crop, thinning the canopy so the sunlight and air could fully pene
trate the vines and, of course, checking the grapes for harvest. But he had employees who could handle all of that. What concerned him more were the weather reports of a tropical storm coming off the gulf. Hermitage was a little too close to the gulf for comfort, while most other vineyards were inland, and with the vines heavy with ripening grapes, a strong storm could spell disaster. The weathermen thought it would stay out to sea or track well east and north of his vineyard.

  He never trusted the weather or women. Both were too fickle and unpredictable.

  Next week would bring the perfect storm in both areas. This tropical storm could cause some serious damage to his crops, just as the grapes were ripening and heavy on the vine. And he had to face Delaney Winters, the only woman who’d ever broken his heart and handed him the pieces before walking away without a backward glance.

  He’d rather face the storm.

  Judging by the weather model, he’d get his wish. Wednesday afternoon into Thursday morning. High winds, heavy rain, possible hail. And he was supposed to be hanging out on the island with friends, partying and trying not to be ensnared in Delaney’s web. He’d considered inviting Cami Spencer, a sometime escort for society functions, as his partner for the wedding. He wasn’t too ashamed to admit he’d wanted a buffer between him and his old flame and to show he’d moved on. It was all about pride, and he wasn’t above using Cami to get what he wanted. She’d make out too. She got invited to an exclusive wedding in Houston Society and the exposure that went with it. She knew the score. His heart was gone, obliterated five years ago, leaving an empty shell.

  If only the empty hole would accept that, heal, and move on.

  Only now, he wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. Now, he wanted answers. No, he needed answers. He needed to know why Delaney threw away their relationship like garbage, as if it didn’t mean anything. How could she toss them aside, especially in so public a manner, without any regrets?

  He pushed away from the desk and swiveled, staring out of the window onto the endless fields of grapes, not really seeing them. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration a familiar feeling whenever he thought of Delaney Winters. Maybe it was time to stop living in the past, stop being dragged back into the black hole that he had lived in for too long. Well, he wasn’t really given a choice in facing his past. Caroline and Matthew had seen to that, inviting them all back for one last reunion.

  He closed the weather site. It was only depressing him further. Caroline would understand if he couldn’t get out there until Thursday afternoon, or even Friday morning. Groomsmen were accessories at a wedding, much like earrings and bouquets. Matthew probably wasn’t even going out until then either, with his big case he’d been killing himself on. They’d fly out together on Thursday after he was sure the vines were all set.

  He reached for the phone and picked it up but, before he could dial, a voice echoed through the line.

  “Hello? Ethan?”

  Ethan frowned and glanced at caller ID. Damn.

  William Leavitt Van Owen.

  He couldn’t avoid a conversation now he’d already picked up. He straightened in his office chair involuntarily and assumed the formal position that he knew his father was also sitting in. He had always mirrored his father, from the time he could follow him into the office.

  “Hello, Dad. How are you?”

  “Ethan. We were expecting you at the board meeting the other day.”

  Shit. He’d completely forgotten about it, focused on laying some flash tape to keep the birds from eating the grapes. He glanced at the calendar on the wall and the date circled several times in red marker.

  “Dad, I’m sorry. We were shorthanded and had to get some things done.”

  His father’s deep sigh had the same effect it had had when he was ten and had disappointed him in some vague way. A shot in the gut. Only now, things were different. Ethan was different. Why couldn’t his father see that?

  “That is what staff is for, Ethan. Hire the best and manage them. Haven’t I always said that?”

  The tone was even and calm, but Ethan could sense the roiling tension beneath the words. He intentionally forced his muscles to relax and leaned back. He was successful in his own right. He didn’t report to the old man. Not anymore.

  “You also said to work side-by-side with the staff. No job is too big or small for the boss. Gain their respect and they’ll work harder for you.”

  Ethan held his breath at the pause in conversation. Finally, his father laughed, a short sound, less of mirth than of rueful admittance.

  “I taught you well. Nice to see you took some of my lessons to heart.”

  “I took all of them and applied them here. We’re one of the fastest growing wineries in East Texas.” A note of pride threaded through his voice, and he despised the need he had for William’s approval.

  “That’s fine, Ethan. Great, in fact. But when will you stop this little venture and come home where you belong? This winery thing is something you do on the side, or in retirement. It’s not a career for you. Hire the right staff to run the day-to-day and come back here and take over Van Owen Financial. I’m not going to live forever, and I’d like to retire someday.”

  Ethan’s hand throbbed and he glanced down. It was clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. He relaxed them, stretching out his fingers and taking several deep breaths. This conversation had been building for months, ever since his father had had the heart scare in the late winter. Since then, he had become obsessed with Ethan coming back home, to the point of inviting him home for family dinners and inviting eligible young women to tempt him back to Houston. If not one temptation, then another. His father always said there was more than one way to skin a cat.

  Ethan hated cats with their independent ways, fickle manners, and elite attitudes. Maybe he had more in common with them than he thought.

  A niggling sense of doubt and fear prodded him from the back of his brain. “Dad, is everything okay with your heart?”

  “My heart is fine, despite the heart attack. It’s the rest of me. I’m sixty-two and Kira has been after me to spend more time with her, traveling and doing God knows what else.” He sighed again. “Ethan, I’m tired. I want to spend less time in the office and not because I’m sick. But I need you to take over. You’re the only one I trust.”

  Ethan swiveled in his chair and looked out the small window over the fields. His heart no longer belonged in Houston, among the skyscrapers, concrete, and noise. He liked the smell of the earth and plants, the sounds of the birds, even the obnoxious tourists who were starting to find his small place. He was at peace, could be happy to spend the rest of his life here away from the noisy falseness of the society he’d left behind. Here no one knew who he was except the owner of Hermitage Vines. He was appreciated for what he had accomplished, not what his father had built or his grandfather. He had done this, with a little startup capital from his father. But he’d paid all of it back and was starting to see a small profit out of the venture. Turning it over to someone else, even someone he trusted, made his gut clench with a loss he’d only felt once before.

  It always came back to Delaney. Five years since the breakup, and he still wasn’t over her yet. Not by a long shot.

  He ruthlessly yanked his thoughts back to his father and the conversation at hand.

  “Samantha has been working in the business since she graduated three years ago. She loves the business. Why not groom her?”

  “She’s young, impetuous, just graduated from business school. She hasn’t quite got the years behind her to be a driving force in the corner office. Not like you. Besides, she just got engaged. Soon, she’ll be married and having children. Work will take a backseat.” His tone switched to a more persuasive one, used most often when he was about to lower the hammer on a deal. “You used to love the rush of the deals, the money-making. It’s in your blood, son. I want you to come back while I can groom you for the president’s chair.”

  “And it almost kille
d me, just like it’s killing you. Dad, I don’t enjoy that anymore.”

  William’s voice hardened, the hammer after persuasion failed. “Who said anything about enjoying it? It’s a job, work. And it’s your family obligation. You’re a Van Owen. This is what we do.”

  “Then let Sam do it. She loves it. Marriage won’t change her that much. She’s just like you.” He thought of his younger sister, more of a shark than he ever was, always out to prove herself. She wanted it more than Ethan did, craved it. And he was more than happy to let her have it.

  “Pish.” William dismissed his daughter as an afterthought. “You’ve been raised for this role. Is it that Winters girl? Delaney? Ethan, I understood when you wanted to get away for a while and try something new. But it’s been five years. Time to get over her and move on. She isn’t even in society anymore. You’ll never have to see her. You wouldn’t let a woman chase you from your family, would you? Your stepmother and I want you home.”

  At the mention of his stepmother, he winced. Kira Van Owen had sunk her sharpened, blood-red claws into a grieving William shortly after his wife’s death, when Ethan was just sixteen. He and Samantha were grieving and hurt, following the loss of their mother, then to have a new stepmother foisted on them, especially Kira, had been a bitter blow. She seemed all sweetness and light, at least to William, but they had seen her differently. She didn’t want Ethan home any more than she wanted Sam taking over the business. If either child had too prominent a role in their father’s life, she did her best to excise them from it, keeping his attention all on her and his half-brother and sister, both of whom were growing up as nasty and deceitful as their mother, earning her the title of stepmonster. No, Kira didn’t want Ethan home, taking over a business she wanted her children to have. But she would use him for a time.