Nine

Ross held open the passenger door as Alissa scooted out and headed inside. Though the worship service had lifted her spirit, she’d noticed that same distant look in Ross’s eyes and knew he still struggled with whatever had been bothering him since they’d met.

“I think I’ll drive over to the nursing home and spend some time with Mom, but I want to talk with you a moment first if you can spare the time.”

Alissa’s gaze searched his. “Sure.” She looked toward the inn and noticed the curtain shift back. Though she knew Fern had heard them arrive, she hoped her sister would give them a minute alone. She turned and headed to the gazebo, hoping Ross would finally tell her whatever it was that bothered him, but in her heart, she feared the talk had to do with them—that he might give her an ultimatum.

He motioned her toward a bench then sat beside her.

“I understand, Ross,” she said before he could say anything. “I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

Ross gave her a curious look. “Thought about what?”

“About us. Isn’t that what you want to talk about?”

He looked as if he wanted to grin, but stress muted it. “No, but maybe we should talk about that, too.”

He’d thrown her. “I just expected—”

“I’m not giving up on us, Alissa. In fact, our relationship is what brought on the need to talk with you.”

Her chest tightened with the seriousness of his voice. “I’ll be quiet and listen.”

He covered her hand and drew it into his. “Can you take off tomorrow? I’d like to take you south again. I’ll talk with Mom today. She’s already made lots of friends at the nursing home, and so I’m comfortable with leaving her alone for the day. If we get back early enough, I can still drop by and see her.”

“I thought you’d taken care of everything for a couple of weeks.” She searched his face, wanting to understand what was wrong.

“Not everything. I’d like you to go with me if you can. . .and if not, there’s no sense in my going.”

He’d confused her. “What’s this about?”

“I want to show you. Think you can make arrangements?”

Faltering between wanting to learn what it was about and not wanting to be hurt, Alissa couldn’t find her voice.

Ross rose. “Think about it, okay? I need to head over and see my mother.” His voice flooded with disappointment.

She reached for him and caught his arm. “Ross, I’ll check with Fern. If not tomorrow, will another day work? I don’t know her schedule.”

“Whatever you can arrange. I just decided to do this, and I wanted to get it. . .get to it.”

Get it over with. That’s what he’d started to say.

Alissa didn’t like surprises, and she felt certain this was one she didn’t want at all. Yet Ross needed to deal with something, and she seemed a part of it.

He turned away and headed for his car without another word.

“I’ll see you when you get back.”

He lifted his hand to let her know he heard, but he didn’t turn around. The old attitude she’d disliked when Ross arrived had made its appearance again.

What could be so important? Her pulse raced, her mind conjuring up horrendous possibilities.

❧

Ross tried to draw Alissa out, but she’d been quiet since he asked her yesterday to go with him to his office. He understood he’d been rather cryptic with his invitation, and he’d tried to decide when to tell her why they were making the trip. For too long he’d dealt with the old issues rioting in his mind. If shame and guilt were tangled in his business, then he needed to take care of it. He realized he needed to be honest with Alissa and to make amends. Though it was too late to apologize to his father, his mother would be grateful, and he sensed the Lord would be pleased with his decision.

“Are you upset with me?” He realized he’d jerked Alissa from her thoughts.

She looked at him, confusion filling her eyes. “I don’t like surprises. I’d rather know what’s going on than to spend the whole trip trying to guess why this is so important. I’ve been here before. I saw your packinghouse, the orchard, and your home already. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself last time, but I’m edgy.”

He drew up his shoulders. “We’re not going to San Luis Obispo.”

She turned on him as if he were a kidnapper. “I thought you said we were going to your house.”

“I did, and we are.”

She shook her head and looked out the passenger window. “You’re talking in circles, Ross. I don’t want to play games.”

“This is no game, Alissa. I wanted you to see the place before I explained, but maybe I’m doing it backward. I’m not good with women, I guess.”

“Yes, you are when you’re acting normal. Since yesterday you’ve been somebody else.”

Maybe he had. “It’s a long story, so let me get started. I also have a business in Paso Robles. I’m sure I told you, and that’s where I live most of the time.”

“What?”

He nodded. “My mom has a place there, too, although I’ve been thinking about having her live with me now that she’s had this accident.”

“What kind of business? More avocados?”

“No, and that’s been my problem.” The memories came crashing back, two bullheaded Cahills, each trying to prove to the other he was right.

“Then what? Just tell me. Is it illegal? Like drugs?”

His heart ached for her fears. Leading her on had been a mistake. “It’s grapes.”

“Grapes?” She gazed at him, more confusion filling her eyes. “What’s wrong with grapes?”

“They’re for making wine.”

She shook her head as if trying to clear away the cobwebs. “Right, but people eat them, too.”

“Mine are wine grapes. They’re different.”

“Oh.”

“Do you see my problem?”

She looked out the passenger window a moment. “Jesus made wine.”

“First, I don’t make wine—I just grow the grapes. And second, yes, Jesus turned water into wine, but many Christians believe drinking is a sin because it leads to trouble and addiction.”

“It can. I know. I don’t drink, but some people don’t think it’s wrong.”

“My family does. I do, and my dad was staunch about it.”

She shifted beneath the seat belt to face him. “So is this what’s been troubling you? Did you and your father have a falling-out?”

“My dad loved me, but he was set against my buying into the wine-grape business. He advised me not to, and he had good reason. Drunks ruin lives.”

Alissa gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes filled with understanding. “Your brother.”

She startled him. “You know about my brother?”

She lowered her hand. “Your mom told me about him one day.”

“Do you know that he—”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “It was a tragedy.”

“So you can see how my dad hated the business, and it did put a barrier between us. He tried to be the same dad, but he couldn’t forget what I’d done.” Ross released the steering wheel from his left hand and massaged the tension in his neck. “I dropped a wall between us with that decision, and when my dad died three years later, I wondered if I’d been to blame.”

Alissa opened her eyes. Moisture clung to her lashes. “No, Ross. I’m sure that had nothing to do with it, but I can understand how it might make you feel guilty. It’s just that you and your dad weren’t looking at the business in the same way.”

“Right. I was looking at the profit. He was looking at it as a moral issue—a faith issue, really.”

Alissa remained silent but reached over and rested her hand on his arm.

“It’s a lucrative business,” he added, “but not when it’s started bothering me so much. It’s not worth the money or the pain. Lately I realize how often I don’t tell people about the grapes. I always say I’m in avocados. I never know when I’m talking to Christians who might be offended. It’s gotten worse the longer I’ve let that happen, and I know I can’t go on like this.”

“If you’re ashamed, then you know you’re doing wrong.”

He nodded, facing the truth. “I’ve known this for a while now, but it’s my business, and I couldn’t see changing it. The equipment costs so much, and trying to change the product wouldn’t be worth it. I really want to get rid of the business. I know many people enjoy wine and don’t find it a sin. And the Bible says Jesus turned water into wine, as you mentioned, but I don’t want to be that person.”

“Why now? What’s made the difference?”

“You.”

She drew back, her eyes searching his. “Me? I never said anything about—”

“Because I didn’t tell you, and I’ve told you everything about me, Alissa, except that. It made me realize I’m doing something I know is wrong. It’s not just Roger’s death or his addiction. It’s my faith. The two just don’t go together.”

Alissa fell silent, and Ross speculated on what she was thinking. His admission could have turned her against him, or, he hoped, she comprehended his remorse.

“What will you do?” she said finally.

“I don’t know what to do. I wish I hadn’t made the decision, but I did, so it’s too late to alter that. But I can do something. It’s what I have to decide.”

She nodded and became thoughtful again.

The scenery passed by, and once through San Miguel, he knew they were getting close. Before Paso Robles, Ross veered off on a side road leading up into the hills, where terraced grapevines flourished on both sides of the road. When he came to his sign, Prospero Vineyards, he took a right and wound his way through the tree-lined road to his house.

When they came through the trees into the circular drive-way, Alissa gasped. “This is your home?”

“Welcome to Cahill Ranch.”

She sat there as if stunned.

Ross walked to the passenger side and opened the door. “Alissa?”

She turned toward him. “It’s gorgeous. All of this is your house?”

He nodded. “My office is a little distance from here.”

She didn’t move.

“Are you getting out?”

“I’m startled. This has been too much of a surprise for me.”

He took her elbow and helped her out, standing beside her as she studied the rambling stucco home with a wide courtyard entrance, the fountain he loved sending water over its spout to the wide basin below. Wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, music to his ears. He loved this place and couldn’t imagine ever finding a home as satisfying. “Let’s go inside.”

Alissa looked at him then gazed at the entrance and took a step forward as if questioning every step.

❧

“I’ve never seen anything more wonderful,” Alissa said, turning full circle to survey the wide entrance with curved staircases on both sides heading to the upper rooms. Ahead she viewed a great room, its ceiling soaring upward, enhanced by a stone fireplace that rose to the rafters with an expanse of windows on both sides offering a view of the landscape and the foothills beyond.

“I love it here,” Ross said, his voice filled with nostalgia.

Alissa stepped forward, questioning her wisdom to tell him what she’d thought when she visited San Luis Obispo. He’d talked about being open, and she decided to do the same. “When I visited your other house, I was surprised it wasn’t more elegant. It is very lovely with the cathedral ceiling and skylights. The view is similar to this one, but less scenic. I’d imagined that if you owned an avocado ranch, you would be rich, and the house didn’t quite fit the mold.”

“I don’t fit the mold either.” He stepped closer to her and rested his hands on her shoulders.

“This house fits the mold, even if you don’t.” She grinned, hoping to bring a smile to his face.

“I’ll give you the grand tour later, but come with me.” He beckoned her to follow.

He led her through a doorway on the side of the great room into a formal dining room and then into the most tremendous kitchen she’d ever seen.

A woman stepped through a doorway across the room, her dark eyes crinkling with her smile. “I heard your voices.”

“Hola, Carmelita.”

“Hola, Mr. Cahill. You’re right on time.”

“This is Alissa Greening, the woman I told you about.”

“Mucho gusto.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Alissa said.

Ross rested his hand on Alissa’s shoulder. “Carmelita is my housekeeper and cook.”

“I have your lunch almost ready, but if you’d like to go out on the patio, I’ll bring some appetizers.”

Ross moved toward her and gave her a hug. “You’re a gem. Gracias.” He grasped Alissa’s hand and steered her toward a sliding door.

When they stepped outside, she drew in the scent of foliage and the sweet fragrance of grapes. Looking past the landscape, she saw the terraced hills beyond. “Your vineyard?” She pointed to the neat rows of vines clinging to supports.

“That’s it.” He motioned toward an umbrella table then pulled out her chair so she sat facing the distant hills. Shadowed by the umbrella, Alissa felt a soft breeze whisper through her hair, and she imagined what it might be like to live in this house. . .and with a housekeeper, of all things.

“I don’t travel much since I’ve owned the inn, so this is a treat. Being served by someone in a private home is unbelievable.” She looked from him to the landscape and back. “And you live like this every day.”

He nodded. “God has been good to me, even with my mistakes.”

“We all falter, Ross.” She rested her hand on his. “This is so special for me, and I can’t imagine your having to give this up.”

His eyes filled with sadness. “I can’t either.”

“Could you sell the vineyard and keep the house?”

He shook his head. “The house is part of the land. They go together. Whatever I do, the two stay together.”

Sadness washed over her, seeing his despondency. Though his decision to buy the vineyard had been one some people might call careless, Alissa understood why he’d purchased it. Besides the income, the area was gorgeous, its rugged landscape an amazing demonstration of God’s creation, with the mountains and lush soil and the ocean only a few miles away. She couldn’t be angry with him, and his dilemma broke her heart.

“Here you are,” Carmelita said, approaching them.

Alissa turned as the woman neared them with a tray. She rested it on the table and set a tall glass of iced tea garnished with lemon and mint leaves in front of her with a bowl of guacamole and a basket of homemade corn chips. Another bowl of salsa filled out the treats.

“This is great,” Alissa said to the woman. “Thank you.”

Carmelita grinned and dug into her pocket. “I’m supposed to give you this.” She handed Alissa an envelope then smiled at Ross and headed back inside.

Alissa eyed the envelope then turned it over in her hand. “What’s this?”

Ross chuckled. “Open it.”

She undid the flap and pulled out a recipe card. The words Prize-Winning Guacamole were written across the top. “I forgot to get this the last time. This is your recipe, isn’t it?”

“It’s the one I told you about.” He gestured toward the bowl on the table. “Try it.”

Alissa reached for a corn chip and dug it into the avocado mixture then took a bite. The taste tingled in her mouth, a delightful mix of the fruit with spices and citrus. She took another bite, loving the flavor of lime and cilantro, the zest of chilies and onion and refreshing bits of tomato. “It’s delicious.”

“I thought you’d like it, and now you can make it yourself.”

“You know I will.” She grasped another chip and dipped it into the guacamole.

Ross joined her, and they nibbled the appetizers, avoiding any more sad talk.

The unpleasant topic remained unspoken through dinner. Carmelita prepared chicken flautas with Mexican rice, a tempting mix of grilled chicken, peppers, and onions with cumin and other spices. The meal would have been perfect except for their earlier conversation weighing on her mind.

When they prepared to leave, Alissa admired the lovely home, the second floor with its massive bedrooms and spacious baths and a home office on the first floor, so lovely her own heart ached for Ross’s decision.

Alissa felt sad when the topic came up again on the way home.

“I hope you understand why I didn’t mention this business, Alissa. As we’ve become so close, I knew I had to be open with you, and I needed you to understand what’s bothering me and how I allowed material things to influence my faith.”

She wanted to say something to soothe his regret. “It’s easy to do, Ross. I think we all make those horrible mistakes. While we were there, I had thoughts of my own. In a way, I did something similar to what you did. Fern was set against my selling the family property. Mom’s house would have been a lovely bed-and-breakfast, and it was closer to the downtown area so it had that good feature, but I wanted to be classier. I knew I could make more money having an inn on the ocean’s doorstep, and I set up all those rules for myself—home-baked cookies, afternoon snacks, flowers and fruit bowls in each room.”

“But all those things make your place unique. You can’t be upset for that.”

Alissa pressed her hand against her chest, emotions billowing as she spoke to him with frankness. “The point is, I hurt my sister by making that decision.” A sense of sorrow crept through her as she studied Ross. “The difference is, I have time to say I’m sorry and to make amends. You don’t.”

He nodded. “That hurts even more than selling the property.” He lifted his hand and made small circular motions on his temple as if to chase away a headache.

Her temple pulsed, as well. “I can’t imagine your going through with this, Ross. I really can’t.”

“I can’t either, Alissa. I really can’t.”