Dante straightened his back and breathed deep. He rolled his shoulders and laced his fingers together behind his head to stretch out the kinks. If he’d learned one thing from his father, it was that he hated weakness of any sort.
Better to pretend he was made of the same shiny, stainless steel as the massive wine vats stretched out in a line before him. Old wooden bulk bins that had to be older than he was, stacked four-high, leaned against the walls near the open doorway. None of those newfangled plastic bins for his father. Everything had to be done the traditional way.
The old way.
At least he’d managed to talk him into changing the old oak barrels over to the newer stainless ones for the majority of their vintages. The older seasoned oak they kept for their specialised fortified liqueurs. His father was such a contradiction in some ways. Old ways, but he’d wanted to embrace newer techniques.
He glanced at the magazine Belle had dropped off in a whirlwind visit at morning tea. A sticky note sat high out of the top of it marking the page containing the interview with the national wine committee. He flicked to the page and grinned at the neat handwritten note.
Don’t forget our picnic! I’m bringing cheese!
He couldn’t wait. Sure, she’d stayed last night on his sofa, but more and more he ached to see her every day, and not just for five minutes here and there.
As well as their regular movie night, he and Belle tried to have at least one other time during their insanely busy week to get together and chill. Through the warmer months, that often meant picnics. They messaged constantly, but seeing her smiling face and hearing her voice was something that always made his day that much brighter.
He laughed at himself. His anticipation might also have something to do with the fact that if they actually got their picnic, odds were she’d be in a bikini and want to go swimming.
That was something he could definitely look forward to.
“I’m sorry, mate, but you can’t be back here.”
Dante looked up and blinked a few times to focus, as their shedhand Jimmy’s voice caught his attention.
“It’s okay. I’m allowed.”
Dante’s gut somersaulted at the familiar male voice. He spun around, certain his ears were deceiving him. The spectre standing not three metres away was one he hadn’t seen in ten years. The quiet hum of machinery and the soft gurgle of vats of wine proved he hadn’t stepped into the Twilight Zone.
“Raph?” he whispered, through elated shock.
“I’m pretty sure you’re not. Just let me go get Mr Casellati. I’ll—”
As Raph patted the teenager on the back, Dante stepped jerkily forward. “It’s all good, Jimmy. I—”
“Who is bothering you out here, Jimmy? Please come back this way to the shop, sir.” Salvatore Casellati’s voice, Sam to his friends, rang out in the large shed.
Raph’s spine snapped straight at the sound of their father’s gravelly, heavily accented English behind him. He hadn’t seen Dante yet and he turned slowly, as if trying to delay the inevitable as long as possible.
The old man’s eyes widened in shock as Raph’s face registered. A face so like his own. “Raphael …?” Sam trailed off into silence.
Dante closed his eyes and resisted the urge to cross himself. He almost laughed. Him, raised a good little Catholic boy, who hadn’t seen the inside of a church in ten years. He certainly had no right to be asking for protection now, even if it was for someone else. If Raphael was coming back home with his tail between his legs, he had to own it and face their father without Dante’s help.
Raph inclined his head a little. “Hi, Dad. Long time, eh?”
A high-pitched squeal pierced the silence and rang throughout the predominantly metal room.
“Raph? Oh my God!”
Pounding footsteps slapped on the concrete. Raphael had enough time to lift his arms before his sister threw herself into them. Ria wrapped him in a vice-grip hug.
“I can’t believe you’re really here!” She pulled back and punched Raph hard in the arm. “You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve come and got you from the airport.”
Raph stepped back and rubbed his arm.
“I wasn’t sure I was.”
Dante cleared his throat quietly, watching the scene play out. Ten years was a long time to stay gone. Sure, Raph had kept in contact with his siblings—mostly Valeria and Leo—but he hadn’t spoken a single word to their father in that whole time.
Dante finally managed to make his legs move. He stopped behind the group and stood, wiping his hands on a cloth.
“Raph.”
His voice betrayed his happiness, now that the shock was wearing off. Raph turned, extricating himself from Ria’s bear-like grip, and held out his hand to Dante.
Dante grabbed it and dragged him into a tight hug. It was so good to have Raph there, right in front of him. They weren’t as close as he and Leo—being away for so long tended to do that to relationships—but he was family.
“What are you doing here?” Dante laughed and hugged him again.
A glance around the small group showed the same question echoed on each face. His gaze came to rest on his father’s face. Quiet contemplation regarded Raph from his faded hazel eyes.
“I thought it was time to come home.”
Silence greeted his statement. Expressions ranged from shock to his own grin.
“For real?” Ria whispered. “For good?”
“That depends on Dad,” Raph said quietly.
Their parting ten years earlier hadn’t been pleasant. Vicious words had been thrown at their mother’s funeral, from both sides. Words that had wounded so deeply that Raphael had left that same day and hadn’t returned.
His father straightened to his full six-foot height. One nod. He turned and started walking back toward the short hall connecting the winery to the cellar door café.
“You know where your old room is.”
Profound relief flooded Raph’s face. He must not have expected a yes. Ria slapped her hands over her mouth then burst into tears.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Raph. I thought you’d never come home.”
Raph wrapped his arms around their sister and let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t think he’d let me through the door.”
Dante put the rag down and motioned toward the café kitchen door. “Come on. There are two other people who might like to see you.”
Leo and Angel would be stoked to have him back. The three musketeers reunited.
A mischievous grin widened his mouth. “Your turtle brothers are waiting, Raphael.”
Ria burst out laughing. “You’re going to be in so much trouble, Dante. I can’t wait.”
Dante wrapped his arm around his brother and shrugged.
“Me, either.”