After a time Emilio had come looking for him. There’d been no one else to inherit Wild Sea. So Nic and his grandfather shared real estate but they’d never reconciled. Emilio had never forgiven Nic for choosing a Marcelli over family, and Nic…he’d learned his lesson. All that mattered was winning.
Maggie walked past him and out into the hall. Once there, she paused and glanced at him over her shoulder. “I don’t doubt that your plan will work perfectly. But let me ask you a question. What about Brenna’s loan? Say you buy Marcelli Wines. Do you call it in?”
He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”
“I guess it depends on whether that would be an advantage to you or not.”
“Probably.”
She turned away. “You’re a really smart guy. It’s too bad you have to be such a bastard.”
6
“That’s terrific,” Brenna said, going for a calm, yes-this-is-a-great-deal-for-both-of-us voice when what she really wanted to do was jump up and down, screaming like a teenage girl at a boy-band concert.
“I’ll have a truck there as soon as you’re ready. Absolutely.” She grinned. “I’ll put you down as getting a couple of bottles when the wine is ready. Talk to you soon. Bye.”
She hung up the phone and slapped her hands on the kitchen table. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
Still grinning and bursting with happiness, she recorded the information in the small Palm Pilot she’d bought the day after Nic had told her she was getting the loan. Three nights of cramming on the impossibly small device had brought her up to speed. She quickly entered the details on the Chardonnay grapes she’d just purchased, then cross-referenced them with the information on the Voignier already on order.
Using the calculator function, she estimated tons per acre, based on what she knew about the vineyards in question. Going against conventional wisdom, and her grandfather’s opinion on the subject, she would be taking the first part of the pressing for her cuvée. She wanted her blend to be so spectacular that critics would weep and customers would buy by the case.
“In a perfect world,” she murmured, entering the rest of the information, including how much she’d paid, and tapped in a note on the calendar reminding her to check the status of her grapes in a couple of days. She glanced at her watch and saw she needed to get back to the winery before anyone noticed she was gone.
She was just turning off her Palm Pilot when the back door opened and Katie walked into the kitchen.
“There you are,” her oldest sister said. “Look what I found lurking by my doorstep this morning.”
Brenna laughed when she saw Mia, her youngest sister, burst into the kitchen. As usual the eighteen-year-old was wearing too much makeup, belly-revealing clothes, and a navel ring.
Brenna stood and held open her arms. “Welcome home, Baby Sister.”
“Brenna!”
Mia flew toward her. Brenna braced herself for impact, then staggered back anyway when Mia’s hearty embrace turned into a collision.
“D.C. was so incredibly cool,” Mia said, then kissed Brenna’s cheek and sighed. “I met two cute White House aides, and when I told them about my broken engagement, they were thrilled to help heal my broken heart. Ah, summer love. But now I’m here and it’s great to be home.”
Brenna released her sister and laughed. “When did your heart get broken?”
Mia sniffed. “When I ended my engagement.”
Brenna looked at Katie, who shook her head.
“I don’t think your heart was even slightly cracked, let alone broken,” Katie said.
Mia grinned. “The White House aides didn’t have to know that. Besides, I liked all the sympathy.”
“You would,” Brenna said as she studied her sister’s pretty face.
Like Francesca, Mia was a blend of the two sides of their family. Her eyes were light brown, and while her hair was darker than Katie’s, it wasn’t as dark as Brenna’s, even without the blond streaks she painted in every couple of months.
Mia was the shortest of the sisters, as curved as Brenna, but without her tendency to gain in the hips.
“You look good,” she told her. “Travel agrees with you.”
Mia smiled her thanks, then her expression turned serious. “How are you? Getting over Dr. Dick?”
Katie winced. “Mia, you have the worst mouth.”
“Oh, right. Because you never say anything bad. Jeff’s a jerk. Screw him.”
“Actually I don’t believe that’s my job anymore,” Brenna said with a grin. “Not that it was ever that exciting.”
Katie chuckled. Mia offered a high five, then headed for the refrigerator. “Where’s Mom and the Grands?”
“In Santa Barbara. It’s their monthly lunch-and-shopping day. They’re going to be furious when they find out you showed up today.”
“They’ll get over it,” Katie said dryly. “I could barely fit all her luggage in the car. I think she’s moving back home.”
“Am not.” Mia pulled mozzarella and fresh basil from the refrigerator. “I’m staying until school starts. But I had to bring all my clothes.”
“Of course,” Brenna said. “You might be invited to a cotillion, and then what would you wear?”
Mia stuck out her tongue. “I’m starved. Where are the tomatoes?”
Katie glanced at her watch. “I really need to head back to L.A. I have meetings this afternoon.”
Brenna pulled several tomatoes out of the pantry. “You think the brat is going to let you go?”
“She’s right,” Mia said. “Come on, Katie. You haven’t seen me in weeks. Don’t you want to hear all about my life in D.C.?”
“I heard plenty on the drive up.”
“Okay, but now you can listen to me tell Brenna. The stories are even more interesting the second time around.”
Katie slipped off her suit jacket and hung it over a chair. “Why did I even bother trying?” she asked, then picked up the kitchen phone and dialed.
While she explained that she wouldn’t be returning to the office, Brenna removed fresh bread from a wooden box on the counter. She pulled several knives out of the drawer and passed one to Mia.
“So what did you learn?” she asked as she began slicing tomatoes.
“Tons. Japanese is a really interesting language. Verbally I do great. I can speak and understand, although my accent sucks. But the written language is so tough. All those characters. I passed and everything, but I felt like a moron the whole time.”
Brenna put the tomatoes on a plate, alternating the thick slices with thin pieces of mozzarella Mia passed her way.
“She graduated top in her class,” Katie said as she hung up the phone.
“Smart and beautiful,” Mia said with a wink. “Kinda makes you want to hate me, huh?”
“I find your modesty to be your real defining characteristic,” Brenna told her.
Katie opened the refrigerator and looked in several plastic containers. “Pasta salad, some kind of chicken dish.” She sniffed the leftovers. “Chicken Marsala, I think.”
“That’s it,” Brenna said. “We had it a couple of nights ago. I’d rather have pasta salad.”
“Me, too,” Mia said.
Mia finished with the cheese. After taking a bowl out of a cupboard, she collected olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and garlic to make a dressing. Brenna used kitchen scissors to cut up the basil.
“So what about this guy Francesca’s engaged to?” Mia asked. “I was barely gone for what, two months, and she’s getting married? And the whole pregnancy thing. I can’t believe she got pregnant.”
“I think Francesca is still getting used to that one, although she and Sam are both thrilled,” Katie said with a laugh.
“So does the thought of a new generation being born take the heat off you or make it worse?” Mia asked.
Katie shook her head. “I’ve already announced no babies for at least a year.”
Brenna laughed. “But they’re not listening.”
“Figures.” Mia wrinkled her nose. “So what’s Sam like?”
“I’d say the perfect man for our perfect sister. He also has a great daughter. Kelly. She’s twelve.” Brenna sprinkled the basil on the plate, then passed it to Mia.
“Since when did you have an interest in kids?” Mia asked.
“I always wanted them. Jeff was the one who said we had to wait. As much as I would like one now, I’m glad we didn’t have any. It would have made the divorce a lot more complicated.”
Mia poured the dressing over the cheese and tomatoes. While Brenna carried plates and flatware to the table, Katie set out a bowl of pasta salad, the bread, butter, and several kinds of sliced salami and ham. Mia slid the tomatoes and cheese plate into the center, then grabbed cans of soda for them.
“Looks good,” she said as she sat down. “I loved the restaurants in D.C., but after so long away, I’m ready for the Grands’ cooking.”
Brenna sat across from Mia. Katie sat at the head of the table. Mia used a fork to spear tomato and cheese onto her plate, then reached for the bread. “So what else has been happening while I was gone?”
Katie shot Brenna a “let me” look. “Not much. Well, except that it turns out that Brenna slept with Nic Giovanni and got a million-dollar loan from him to start her own winery.”
Mia froze in the act of biting into a piece of bread. Her eyes widened and the color fled her cheeks.
“Shut up!”
Katie made an X over her left breast. “Swear on Grandma Tessa’s rosary.”
Brenna spooned pasta salad onto her plate. “It was ten years ago.” She looked up and grinned. “The sex. The loan is recent. As wonderful as I may think I am in bed, I have to admit I doubt I’m worth a million bucks.”
“I don’t know what to ask about first,” Mia admitted when she’d chewed and swallowed her bread. “The sex or the winery. I can’t believe you slept with him and didn’t tell me. I hate being the youngest. I never find out anything good until years later.”
Katie raised her eyebrows. “Obviously she decided the sex was more interesting than the money.”
“Apparently,” Brenna said. “Don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll bet he was great,” Mia said with a sigh. “Nic always looked like he knew his way around female anatomy.”
“We’re eating,” Katie protested.
“Oh, right. Because you and Zach never pushed aside dinner to do it on the table,” Mia grumbled.
Katie blushed slightly, but didn’t respond.
“Just like I thought.” Mia looked triumphant, then turned her attention back to Brenna. “You’re starting your own winery? For real?”
“I don’t have a choice,” Brenna said. “Grandpa Lorenzo and I are arguing about everything. Working with him is a nightmare. Between how much he hates all my ideas and the recent discovery that we have a long-lost brother—the male heir our grandfather has always wanted—I figure my chances of inheriting are somewhere between ‘unlikely’ and ‘it ain’t gonna happen.’”
“But your own label?” Mia sounded both impressed and terrified. “A million dollars?”
“Absolutely. I came up with a great business plan, but I couldn’t get any of the banks to listen. They wanted to know why Grandpa Lorenzo wasn’t backing me himself. I didn’t want to go to Mom and Dad for the money because they live here and it would have been awkward for everyone. So I went to Nic and he said yes.”