Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

17. Ruther

seventeen

Ruther

D espite dreading the winery, I smiled when Jake and Lance met me at the condo door. “You know, we need to invite you two up for dinner one night, especially since you’re staying right below us,” Jake commented.

“That’d be nice,” I said and meant it. “So, elephant in the room and all that, I’m sorry—”

Jake put his hand up. “No need to mention it except to say Chris feels horrible about making you uncomfortable. He’d like to make it up to you, but let’s leave that for now. Shall we go to the winery?”

Despite my resolve to behave, I cringed just enough for Jake to catch it. Fortunately, he chuckled and patted my shoulder. “You’re going to be pleasantly surprised, trust me.”

Corey had tried to beg off, but I squared him with a look that said if I had to endure it, he did as well. When he said he had to work, I simply reminded him his phone worked just as well in the car as in the condo. Ultimately, I didn’t back down like I usually did. No, if I had to endure the Tennessee sweet wine, he would too.

The drive to the winery was breathtaking. We drove up hills that opened onto vistas through the trees. Cows grazed lazily in fields along the route. It didn’t feel real as we drove—more like watching a scene from a movie. I’d completely forgotten about the beauty of the area. Not that I had spent much time out here.

I quickly forced my mind away from those thoughts, knowing that line of thinking eventually led to a panic attack. One was enough for today.

Corey and I gasped as we pulled into the winery’s parking lot and saw the old mill. The water wheel was still turning in the creek that ran alongside. When we walked toward the entrance, I leaned over and whispered to Corey that the view alone made it worth the trip.

He shrugged, not convinced, even if he’d agree the picturesque setting was spectacular.

We were greeted as we walked into the mill by a young woman who appeared to be in her midtwenties. She hugged Jake and Lance, then shook Corey’s hand and mine. “Welcome. My name is Lia. Jake called ahead, telling me you were coming, so I’ve set up a tasting for you upstairs.”

At least the setting was first-rate. The problem was sweet wines, even those prized as dessert wines from Italy, did nothing for me. In fact, they made me gag.

I’d decided to forgo my crutches, since my ankle was feeling better, but climbing the stairs took more time than it normally would’ve. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw and the moment I was in the space, my mouth fell open. The second-floor room was open just as it was below, but original hand-hewn beams decorated the ceiling. Large picture windows stretched across the entire space, letting in lots of natural light. Then I spotted the artwork.

Like the wine, I kept my expectations low and figured it would be anything from velvet paint by numbers to amateurish art, but as I wandered over to the canvases, I saw how wrong I was. I’m not an art connoisseur, but my father considered quality artwork as investments. He and his friends fretted about it enough that I eventually learned what to look for, in case a piece of art came available.

These pieces were magnificent, with confident brush strokes that adorned the canvases with color, and shadow that contrasted beautifully with the light. I was mesmerized. I turned to see Corey had the same expression on his face. “These are stunning,” Corey exclaimed, and for a brief moment, I remembered my assistant had majored in art before coming to work for me.

Lance and Jake, along with the woman, Lia, were all smiling knowingly at us. “They are true works of art,” Lance said.

“Who’s the artist?” Corey asked, almost reverently.

“Matt Brinks. He’s becoming quite well-known,” Lance replied.

“I can see why,” I said.

“Well, let’s get to what you came for,” Lia said, leading us to a beautiful table in front of a window that showed both the wheel outside and what must be remnants of the original building before it was renovated.

She placed wine glasses in front of us, along with spit buckets and water. I’d been to enough wine tastings to know they took this seriously. In fact, even if the wine tasted horrible, the setup would make any French winery proud.

“I’m going to start you with our merlot,” she said, pouring each of us a glass. “You’ll notice our merlot is slightly different from what you might find on the West Coast. That’s the natural acidic soil.” I swirled my glass and sniffed, surprised to find the acceptable scents for a table merlot.

Lia was saying something about how the soils of Tennessee had once been an ancient sea, but the flavor burst forth enough to cause me to focus less on her and more on the taste. Perfect? No. Equal to the French or the Western U.S. wines? No. But I wouldn’t hesitate to put this on my table, even if I were entertaining.

Lia smiled at my surprised reaction and pulled out another bottle. “Pinot noir is the first grape we tried here at the winery,” she said as we all swished and prepared for the next tasting. Jake and Lance watched closely as we tipped the wine back, and the flavor flooded my pallet.

My eyes widened as I was overwhelmed by the taste. “This is delightful. This wasn’t raised in Tennessee. You’re pulling my leg,” I said, and Jake, Lance, and Lia all laughed.

“I grew up on Long Island. My father was a lead physician there, and he is the biggest wine snob I’ve ever met, yet even he can’t fault the wine here,” Lance said.

Both things shocked me. First, Lance was from Long Island. I hadn’t detected an accent on the drive here, or the other times I’d spent with him. His accent made me think he’d probably grown up here. Second, this wine was probably one of the best pinot noirs I’d tasted, and since it’s one of my favorite wines, I’ve tasted my fair share of them.

“It’s won more than a few awards, all of which are on display downstairs behind the official tasting area. I’ll let you peruse those on your own. No one likes a boastful host,” Lia said, chuckling.

She hesitated momentarily, then sighed. “I wasn’t going to try this one out on you. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, but we’ve been experimenting with one of our wild grapes here. It’s called muscadine, and normally it’s disgustingly sweet. Great for jelly, mind you, but not good for wine.”

She paused and shook her head. “I’ll just hush and let you taste it. Tell me honestly what you think.”

I was back to my original fear of tasting a disgustingly sweet wine when Lia poured each of us a glass. “We haven’t perfected it, but the blends are nice, and—” She gestured for us to sip. “—you will catch that intense bite of muskiness. That’s the muscadine. We want to capture that while avoiding the sweetness.”

I could tell where she was going with it. The bite was pleasant. The blend wasn’t bad either, but she was correct, it wasn’t quite right, at least not yet. “If you can figure this out, it’s going to become a favorite,” I said and took another sip, enjoying the different flavor profiles.

She smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Logan, our vintner, is fairly certain this year’s batch will yield the results we’re hoping for. Lots of people have tried to tame the Tennessee muscadine, but none have accomplished it…yet.”

“Invite us back!” Corey blurted, surprising me.

Lia smiled and nodded. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait at least another year, but you’re welcome to come test the new samples then. In the meantime, would you two enjoy coming for the harvest? If you’re here this fall, Logan and Matt host a huge harvest festival. It’s become quite the event.”

“Do they share their wine?” I asked, getting a chuckle from everyone except Corey, who was still looking wide-eyed at the wine we’d just tasted.

“We do, but it will cost you. If you’re willing to sit through Logan’s classes, you can actually help harvest the grapes.”

“But he’s becoming more and more of a stickler as time goes on,” Jake said, triggering a snicker from Lia.

“The man is a perfectionist when it comes to his grapes, but as you can taste, he’s extracting some amazing flavors out of them.”

“That he is!” I admitted before Lia left all three bottles open in front of us, pulled out a cheese tray from a refrigerator behind her, and set the tray on top of the bar. “Help yourself. This is Jake’s treat. Enjoy,” she said and went back downstairs.

“This wine is so much better than I would’ve dreamed. I honestly believed it was going to make me gag.”

Both Lance and Jake chuckled. “We knew exactly what you expected, but we enjoyed watching you discover it, just like we did.”

I poured myself another glass of the excellent pinot, and when Corey gestured toward his glass, I also poured him some. “I’d like to buy several bottles to take back to the condo,” I said, and Jake nodded.

“That’s expected, too, but just so you know, they also have a nice setup in the hotel. You can walk over anytime and buy whatever you like.”

“Do they just serve reds?” Corey asked.

“No, actually. I didn’t ask for any of the whites since I have to drive us back to Crawford City and I’ll be tempted to drink too much as it is, but their whites are nice as well. Not quite the level of perfection as the pinot, but give our Logan some more time and he’ll have those perfected as well.”

“I’d like to meet this Logan,” I said and was interrupted by Corey.

“And Matt, I’d like to meet the artist.”

Jake patted Corey’s back companionably. “I’ll set it up. Meanwhile, I’d like to talk to you about your development, where the ever-present gossips aren’t as likely to hear.”

I nodded, figuring that was the real purpose behind this winery tour.

“Crawford City is growing fast, and we’re struggling to keep up with the housing demand. We all told you true, that we aren’t quite ready for an apartment complex. Even as nice as the condos are, if I weren’t one of the owners, and my friend Jen hadn’t bought the second, the third probably would’ve been more difficult to sell than I’m comfortable admitting.”

I nodded, anticipating as much. “Do you think single-family housing is needed then?” I asked.

“I think it’s a need we can’t ignore any longer despite the town’s unflattering opinion of that property’s side of the tracks ,” he replied, using air quotes on the last bit. “Things have changed a lot over the years. The bar and the motel blight the area, but as you know, nothing else is over there.”

“So, you think if we tear down the motel and close the bar, we’d change the town’s opinion, and people would readily buy in that area?”

Jake snorted. “You’ll not be tearing the bar down anytime soon. That old saloon is a local landmark of sorts. In the early eighties, the ladies of the town went on a crusade to close it down once and for all. As you can see, they lost.”

“But the townsfolk still think of it as blighted?”

Jake nodded. “Yes, for the time being. As the new owner of said bar, I know for a fact it’s about to go through some significant changes.”

“Well, that seems like half the battle’s won already,” I said, and I caught sight of Corey, who couldn’t quite hide his pleasure at the news. Both he and I had seen projects die in the suburbs where one establishment, hated by a community, could sink an otherwise beneficial project.

“So, you’d do the renovations soon? Perhaps in tandem with a new housing development?”

Jake winked at me and then looked at his husband. “A brilliant architect I know already has a few ideas about a potential development—”

Lance elbowed Jake and then laughed. “My sweet husband tends to speak before he should,” Lance said. “After hearing you were looking at the property, we did start talking about what kind of development would do best in the area and how to help you avoid some of the pitfalls of the town council.”

I nodded skeptically and glanced at Corey, who was clearly as unsure as I was.

“Let’s do this. Give me a few days, and I’ll put together a proposal. Not that you have to use me, but I’m the only local architect left in the area now my mentor has retired,” Lance said. “There are plenty of Nashville architects you could use, but if you give me a chance, I think I have some ideas to inspire you.”

I couldn’t help but cock my eyebrow, and Lance grinned. “I’m not pulling a fast one on you. I promise no hard feelings if you don’t like what I’ve got to show, but please give me the chance.”

I knew Lance and Jake both held a lot of sway with the community, and considering they were also our ride back to town from the winery, there really was nothing I could do but nod and smile.

“Okay, business done. If you’re finished with the cheese and wine, we’d like to show you our favorite part of this property.”

“I’d like to buy a few bottles before we leave,” I said, and Jake nodded.

Corey and I took our time exploring the retail shop, and I selected several bottles to purchase. Although Jake said the whites weren’t quite as good as the reds, I wanted to try them all. I had always loved wine, more than I should at times, and I was impressed with this little shock of a winery. At the very least, I wanted to spend some money here to encourage them to keep up the good work.

Once our boxes of wine were loaded in Jake and Lance’s trunk, they led us down a path and up to one of the most beautiful little chapels I’ve ever seen. My family were Quakers, and the no-nonsense aspects of the meeting houses used by the Friends, as they were called, was the polar opposite of this place. It probably would’ve turned the more ardent Friends off, but I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the beauty and spiritual elements of the space.

I was utterly smitten by this quaint little country winery. As we drove back to town, my thoughts drifted to the man who’d smitten me in a similar way. Clyde wasn’t a refined man. He had a strong accent, and despite his small build, his muscles were toned by long hours of hard work. He was so unlike the few men I’d dated in the past, and I found it refreshing.

I wondered what it might be like to bring him to the winery. Share some wine and cheese with him. Wander up the path to the adorable chapel. Maybe steal a kiss or five hundred. I chuckled at the romantic scene playing out in my mind.

There was something special about Clyde, but I got the impression that he didn’t think of himself that way. I wondered how I might go about convincing him otherwise.