Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

20. Marisa

CHAPTER 20

Marisa

MINUS THE CULT PART

“ C ome in, come in,” Leanne Ledger gestures her hand at me to come inside.

My eyes flick over the colonial-style exterior of the home before I step in. The house is tucked away deep within the vineyard property, nearly hidden unless you know exactly where you’re going. If Jenn hadn’t drawn me a makeshift map, I’m not sure I would’ve found it.

“I hope it wasn’t too hard to find,” she tells me, looking over her shoulder as I follow her down the long hallway lined with family photographs and art pieces.

“Jenn gave me directions.” I hold up the napkin with black ink scribbles that Jenn drew for me.

She smiles warmly. “It’s a bit of a maze out here.”

As we pass the kitchen, she pauses and turns to me. “Would you like something to drink? I made a fresh batch of lavender lemonade.”

“That sounds amazing.”

While she works on pouring two glasses, I continue to look around. The home reminds me of something out of a Nancy Meyer’s film, with its mix of new finishes and antique-looking furniture. My focus sweeps around, trying to take it all in. Maybe it’s the reporter in me or maybe I’m just nosy as hell, but all I can think is this is the home Ethan grew up in. He probably ran through this kitchen as a kid or watched TV on that couch or walked down the stairs near the foyer for dates. I’m imagining him everywhere.

In the living room near the kitchen, there’s a credenza full of framed photos. I glance over at Leanne and see she’s still busy, so I quietly wander over.

The pictures are an array of posed family portraits and candids, all taken over the years. My gaze catches on one of a middle school-aged boy with braces and hazel eyes. It’s a school photo and clearly, it’s Ethan. He’s smiling a closed-mouth, forced smile, and the corners of my lips lift imagining what he was like at that age.

“Find anything interesting?”

I jump, caught off guard by Leanne’s sudden appearance. I didn’t even hear her footsteps. Thankfully, I’m able to recover with a smile as she hands me my glass.

“I was snooping,” I admit. “You have a beautiful family.”

She breathes a laugh and takes a sip of lemonade. “Thank you. Sometimes they drive me bananas, but most of the time, they’re pretty amazing.”

Her smile slips into one of longing as she looks at all the pictures, almost as if it’s not something she does often. “They grew up so fast. It’s like I blinked and all of a sudden my kids are adults.”

I wonder if my mom thinks of me that way? If I grew up too fast, or if I didn’t grow up fast enough? Based on how quickly she leaped at the opportunity to get as far away as possible, I’m going to go with the latter.

A quiet laugh slips out of Leanne, almost to herself. “We didn’t plan on having so many children. Gavin was our honeymoon souvenir,” she says while pointing to a picture of a teenage Gavin. “Ethan and Elyse were planned because we knew we wanted at least three. Then came Shane. He wasn’t planned, but we were ecstatic. Now the twins” —her gaze meets mine with raised brows— “total surprise.”

Exhaling a smile I say, “It seems like it all worked out for the best.”

“It did.” She shakes her head like she’s pulling herself out of a memory. “Ethan said you wanted to see the original winery and get some pictures?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. I’m doing an article on the winery.”

She claps excitedly. “I know, and I can’t tell you how happy I am that you managed to get Ethan to do it. I’m not sure what you did or said to get him to agree, but I’m sure it was something close to magic.” She winks at me and something about it makes me blush. I turn my head, pretending to admire the décor before my skin becomes completely red. “He must think pretty highly of you.”

A nervous giggle nearly surfaces, but I clench my jaw to trap it. “I’m assuming it’s down this way,” I point, trying to escape this conversation.

If Leanne notices, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her lips press into a smile. “It’s down these steps.”

I follow her as we walk through another long hallway. At the end of it, we take two awkward steps down to a different level.

“This used to be a breezeway, but Jack had it enclosed,” Leanne explains as we trail across the long stretch until we go through a door of a shed-like building. “This is it.”

Inside, the smell of aged wood and something sour penetrate my nose. It’s not a bad smell, it’s almost familiar.

“Decades later and this place still smells like fermenting wine,” Leanne says.

The space is bare, the furniture no longer in place, but it’s clear where the bar once was.

I snap a few pictures, going for a moody effect.

“It’s not much to look at these days, but we don’t have the heart to tear it down.” She wanders over to a separate room, closed off by a barn door. “Through here is where everything happened.”

It’s hard to tell what it once looked like, and apart from some old barrels stacked in the corner, the room is empty.

“Can you believe they did every process in this little room? Crushing and fermenting and aging, even bottling. Now we have multiple warehouses for that.”

I manage to capture some great pictures I think will beautifully compliment the article, and Leanne tells me more about the earlier days of the winery, which I make sure to take note of. As she’s walking me out, an overgrown lot between the Ledger home and another house catches my attention. Leanne notices me staring.

“Bit of an eye sore,” she muses.

“Is it meant to be more land for a vineyard?”

She smiles wistfully at the lot before returning her focus back to me. “No, it’s Ethan’s. He was supposed to build a house on it, but life had other plans. I keep hoping he’ll finish it one day. Call me crazy, but my dream is for all of my children to live on the land, like a giant commune. Minus the cult part, of course.” She releases a soft chuckle and points to the other house. “That one is Gavin’s.”

Leanne continues talking, but I find myself distracted, wondering why Ethan abandoned the lot. I can’t imagine he actually prefers living in a vacation cottage over a real home.