*Soft guitar and a rumbling, low voice drifted on the light afternoon breeze. Dante noticed Raph look over toward Sapphire Sky.
“They have a food and music afternoon every Sunday,” Dante said without looking up. “Drives Pop mad.” He grinned. “Mainly because he can’t quite hear what the music is.” He pointed at the vines to their left. “These were planted just after you left.”
They walked along the rows, Dante pointing out innovations he’d managed to convince their father into letting him do. Wide hardware store straw hats kept the worst of the heat from their heads and shoulders.
Nods and murmurs of approval from Raph had him smiling to himself. He shouldn’t give a damn what his brother thought, but the fact that he approved of the changes buoyed his spirits.
“You’ve done an incredible job getting Pop to even consider some of these things, let alone go along with them. He’s more immovable than a mountain.”
“Thanks, Raph. That means a lot.”
There. He’d said it. Let him think he was hero-worshipping if he wanted. It was the truth.
Raph contemplated him. “You’re one hell of a winemaker, Dante. You undersell yourself all the time. I tasted some of your own blends yesterday, and I have to say—I’m impressed. Your Naked Friulano particularly; it’s fabulous.”
Dante couldn’t control his grin. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to convince the old man to let me do that? Particularly considering I wanted to use his precious Friulano vines. You’d think I’d asked to make fertiliser out of them, or something.”
Raph laughed and shook his head. “I can imagine. He hasn’t done anything with those in twenty years.”
“We’ve stopped using over ninety per cent of the sprays we used to, as well. Not quite organic, but damned close.” Dante rubbed at the base of his neck and touched a budding leaf on the vine in front of him. “Did Dad tell you we’re entering the International Awards this year?”
He looked over when Raph didn’t say anything.
“Yes. I don’t want to blow smoke up your ass, but I think you have a good chance in medalling, or at the very least, a highly commended.”
Pride and relief suffused him. Dante nodded to himself. He’d hoped the same thing, but put it down to wishful thinking.
“Thanks, Raph,” he said again, quietly.
He glanced up to see Raphael looking toward Sapphire Sky. “Do you think Jack and Callum will enter this year?”
“Yeah, they have one they’ve been working on. Jack’s pretty excited about it.”
He tweaked the irrigation dripper at the base of the vine and pulled a clump of grass that was too close. No point watering the grass instead of his vines.
“It’s a shame they had to postpone the awards this year, what with travel restrictions and all.”
Dante shrugged and grinned. “Yes and no. It gave us some more time to prepare, at least.”
Raph leaned against the large fence post at the end of the row and plucked one of the ancient roses that bloomed there. Their father had planted them at the end of each row when he was a kid. They were like the proverbial canary in the mine—if there were insects or fungal diseases on the rose leaves, you could be damned sure you needed to check your vines.
“About Belle—do you think she’d go out with me if I asked her?”
Dante’s gut tumbled. He’d been trying not to think of her all morning.
That kiss.
Wow.
He couldn’t believe he’d let Leo bully him into it. Well, “bully” was a touch strong. He hid his grin behind his hand as he wiped his face and yanked a few more weeds to appear busy. The taste of her mouth had blown what little of his mind he’d had last night.
Zesty orange lip balm. She’d tasted like a mix of salty popcorn and oranges.
He’d wanted to be alone with her so badly. And he’d deliberately chosen a horror so she would snuggle close when she got scared.
He wasn’t above admitting it. He liked how she felt next to him and the way she grabbed on to him with the jump scares.
It was a way to have her close and not risk their friendship in the process. Because as much as he wanted to be with her, if he lost her if things went sour, it would kill him. Her friendship meant everything.
Raph’s question finally sank in. “What? You’re really going to ask her out?”
Raph plucked a few petals and dropped them to flutter aimlessly to the ground. “Why not?”
Dante went to answer but found he had no real reason to oppose him. Other than his own feelings, but that point was moot.
Raph glanced at him and raised a brow in question. “What? No angry rebuff? No Get away from my friend, Raph, you evil manwhore, you?”
Dante tried not to laugh, tried to keep a straight face. It was impossible. Laughing, he said, “Shut up. I can’t stop you chasing her. She’s an adult. If she’s so … inclined … to go out with you, then there’s nothing I can do to stop her.”
Raph crossed his arms and gripped his biceps. “While that’s true on one hand, on the other you could always let your interest show.”
“What, and have her choose between us? No, thanks. I’m not into self-flagellation and the subsequent misery of being passed over for my brother.”
Dante frowned at Raph’s intense scrutiny. His piercing gaze was getting uncomfortable. He hated the thought that Belle might choose Raph, really hated it, but short of doing exactly what Raph suggested, he had no other options.
“What makes you think she’d choose me?”
Exasperation made him snappy. “How would I know? She’s not likely to choose me, now is she? Not when I’ve never mentioned any interest. She’d just think I was being a jealous friend and that it wasn’t real. I don’t want that, either.”
Raph shrugged and shook his head. “You’re going to have to make a decision one day.”
Dante spun to stalk off up the neatly mowed row. “I thought we were looking at the vines? Let me know when you want to talk wine, instead of mining me for information about Belle.”
He glanced at the rogue weeds popping up here and there beneath the grapevines. He’d have to get Leo out to chip them. Raph’s voice behind him spurred him to walk faster.
“You might not want to hear it, little brother, but whether it’s me or someone else, you’re going to get left behind if you don’t ’fess up. What could’ve been an option could end up being too little too late.”
*
“Izzy?”
Belle looked over behind the bar as she pushed through the swinging doors of the galley. Her dad had called out her childhood nickname. He rarely called her that these days.
“Won’t be a moment, Dad.”
She delivered the antipasto platters she’d just made to the outdoor table and chatted with the customers, answering their questions about the region and local specialty varietals. She collected some empty glasses on her way past another table and nodded at their requests for another bottle.
“An ’18 Zinfandel, please, Dad. Table nine.”
She dumped the dirty glasses on the sink bench and went back out to the bar. Surprise stopped her in her tracks. Her father still stood there in the same spot.
He pushed a tray with new glasses and the open bottle toward her. “Thought you might like to do your wine mojo. The customers love it when you do.”
Happiness flooded her. “Thanks! I haven’t had much chance lately.”
Her father leaned on the bar and poked the edge of the tray with the end of one finger. “About that … I’ve been talking to Ruth Malley, at Blue Care, about Mum. She’s doing up the paperwork tomorrow, but we’ll be having Adelaide come each weekday to be with her. This week will only be half-days, so Jem gets used to her being here. It helps that she remembers Addie. But from next week she’ll be here from eight until four, and until seven on Fridays.”
Belle’s heart jumped and pounded. Luckily she wasn’t holding the tray yet; she really thought she would’ve dropped it. She looked around for someone holding a phone or camera, certain she was being punked.
Her gaze landed back on her father. “Are you serious?”
He patted the aged wooden bar. “Yes. Mum isn’t going to get better; the series of mild strokes she had have caused too much damage. I know she’s getting too much for you on your own. I’ve known it for a while, but I didn’t want … Let’s just say that it was time.”
Belle blinked to force the stinging in her eyes to not form tears. She was at work, she had to be professional. This was the most honest her father had been about her mother’s condition, even though she and Jack already knew her long-term prognosis was far from good.
A small gasp left her, unbidden.
If the carer worked out, and she possibly could as Adelaide was known to her mother, Belle would have time to study for the Master Sommelier course.
Her father pounding her on the back made her blink rapidly and suck in a deep breath.
“You gotta breathe, Belle,” he said, half-jokingly.
She threw her arms around his neck, unable to express how his words made her feel.
“Thank you, Dad.”
He patted her back. “I know it’s been hard for you lately. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise … It’s for the best.”
She stepped back and swiped at her eyes, sending him a wonky, lopsided smile.
“I’d better go give these people their wine. You know how they get; they might revolt on us.”
Her father laughed and shooed her away. “I’ll head out to the deck to sit with Mum. She loves listening to Dean sing. Yell if you need help.”
Belle nodded and scooped up the tray containing the wine and glasses. A wondrous sense of lightheartedness buoyed her steps. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
A massive smile erupted on her mouth. She couldn’t wait to tell Dante what had happened. He’d be so happy for her. From where she stood right now, life couldn’t get much better.