The Prodigal Son

Paul, her ex-husband, felt so guilty about not being able to see the girls as often as he’d like that he and his too-good-to-be-true second wife, Sarah, let them do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Every time Payton and Abby came back from their once-a-month weekend visits with their father, it took Connie almost a week to deprogram them from acting like mini prima donnas.

The front door opened and shut. “Hello?” a familiar voice called. “Anyone here?”

“In my office,” Connie said, sliding the folder she’d set on her desk into the top drawer. Yeah, it was stupid to feel nervous or, worse, embarrassed by the information she’d put together, but she felt both just the same.

“I thought I saw your car pull in,” Diane Sheppard said from the doorway, her chin-length hair windblown and her cheeks pink from the walk across the yard. “What’s this? No school today?”

Abby scrambled off the couch and wrapped her arm around Diane’s leg. “Nuh-uh. It’s President’s Day.”

“And you get the day off?” Diane asked, as if President’s Day was some new and exciting development. “Since it honors two very important men, we should celebrate it, don’t you think?”

“Like a party?” Payton asked.

“Exactly like a party. Why don’t we go over to the house and make plans over some hot cocoa?” Keeping a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, she smiled at Connie. “You don’t mind if I steal them for a little bit, do you?”

Mind? She had to stop herself from begging Diane to do just that. She had pruning to start, a job that could take her small crew of three anywhere from a few weeks to an entire month. Plus, she had to go over the results of the soil sample she’d sent out last week for the new block of land she wanted to plant this spring.

Abby clapped her hands. “Can we, Mommy?”

“Please?” Payton added, pushing her glasses back with one finger.

“You two have been at each other’s throats all morning,” Connie was forced to point out. After all, the girls weren’t Diane’s responsibility. No matter how much work Connie had to do. “I couldn’t, in good conscience, subject Diane to your whining and fighting.”

“We won’t fight,” Payton said, and then she pulled Abby into a hug.

Abby nodded vigorously, her head bumping Payton’s chin. “See? We’re best friends again.”

“It’s a President’s Day miracle,” Connie murmured.

“I raised three boys,” Diane said. “I think I can handle a little bit of whining and fighting. Besides, if we’re going to throw an impromptu party, I’ll need their help.”

“You need help planning a party like the Pope needs help praying.” Connie crossed her arms and realized her burgundy scarf was still wrapped around her neck. Unwinding it, she narrowed her eyes at her boss. “You know, it is possible for the girls to keep themselves occupied while I’m here. You don’t have to entertain them every time I bring them with me to work.”

“I realize that,” Diane said with a wave of her fingers, as if she didn’t find some excuse to take the girls off Connie’s hands whenever she could.

The sunlight filtering through the picture window caught on Diane’s new engagement ring, making the large, square-cut diamond sparkle. Even though she wore the ring of another man, a man she planned to marry in a few short months, Diane hadn’t removed the wedding band and engagement ring from her first husband. She’d just shifted them to her right hand.

Connie rubbed the pad of her thumb against the base of her ring finger. She hadn’t felt anything when she’d taken her wedding ring off four years ago. Well, except relief. She’d wanted to feel more. Sadness. Loss. Anger. Even a sense of failure would’ve sufficed. Instead, she’d remained numb.

Maybe she really was as cold and unfeeling as Paul had accused her of being.

“Please, Mommy,” Payton repeated. “We’ll be really good.”

“And we’ll help Diane a whole lot,” Abby piped in.

“Okay, okay. Stop with the begging already. You can go. Stay as long as Diane wants you, but you—” she pointed at Diane “—need to promise me you’ll send them right back here if they misbehave.”

Diane adjusted the barrette in Payton’s wavy, light brown hair. “Of course.”

Connie rolled her eyes. The only way her kids would be sent back was if they set the kitchen on fire. And even that wasn’t a guarantee.

“Come on, girls.” Diane zipped up Abby’s coat even though she was more than capable of doing it on her own. “We have lots of work if we’re having a party today.”

When they were gone, Connie swiveled in her chair to watch them through the window as they crossed the brown grass toward the house. Abby held Diane’s hand while Payton skipped ahead. Aidan’s Irish setter, Lily, bounded out of the woods, joining the group.

It was a picture-perfect scene, one straight out of a hokey holiday commercial. Like they were all one big happy family.

Which they were. Sort of. They belonged here, she and her girls. And there was one way to make it permanent.

Her stomach rolling, she tugged open the top drawer and pulled out the folder with the plan she’d outlined showing Aidan why they should partner up and take over the Diamond Dust.

It was a crazy idea but one she hadn’t been able to shake since Christmas Eve when Diane got engaged and mentioned that she wanted to retire in the near future. And when that happened, who better to take over than Connie and Aidan? They were the ones who’d been with the winery ever since Tom got sick. Who loved it as much as he had.

Nerves and excitement dancing in her stomach, Connie pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Aidan’s number before she changed her mind.

When he picked up after two rings, she cleared her throat. “Hey, it’s me,” she said. “Do you have any free time this morning? I need to talk to you about something important.”

CHAPTER THREE

STILL FUMING OVER HIS conversation with his mother, Matt walked into Aidan’s office only to skid to a stop as if he was a dog and had reached the end of his leash. “What is this, the Tom Sheppard shrine?”

Sitting behind their father’s enormous desk, Aidan didn’t even look up. “I’m working.”

Matt shook his head as he slowly took in the large room. A room he’d managed to avoid since his father’s death.

But why did it look exactly as it had when Tom was still alive? Same dark colors, oppressive furniture and—he narrowed his eyes—was that…yeah…same ugly bronze frog on the bottom shelf of the built-in bookcase.

“I hate this room,” he muttered.

“How can you hate a room?” Aidan asked as he continued to work on a financial report or inventory sheet or some such mind-numbingly boring item.

“If I ever end up behind that desk, do me a favor and just shoot me.”

He did hate this room. Not just the decorating, although if he ever got stuck playing desk jockey, he wanted a space that was all his. Not someone else’s leftovers. No, what he really hated about his father’s office was that stepping into the room was like stepping back in time. He couldn’t count the number of times his father had called him in here only to rip him up one side and down the other. Hell, he’d spent most of his teenage years slouched in the leather chair across from the desk, forced to listen to his old man lecture about responsibility, making good choices and the importance of doing his best no matter what the situation.

All important lessons, Matt acknowledged grudgingly. And ones he deserved to hear, just as he probably deserved most of the punishments his father had doled out in response to his youngest son’s wild ways.

Then again, maybe if Tom hadn’t been such a hard-ass, Matt wouldn’t have rebelled so much.

Aidan finally set his mechanical pencil down. “Don’t tell me, you hate that chair, too.” When Matt raised an eyebrow, Aidan continued, “You look like you’re ready to rip it apart with your teeth.”

That was why he’d avoided this room ever since his dad died. It was too full of memories. And memories only caused problems. Better to focus on the present. And the current hell he was living through.

“We need to discuss this…situation we’re in,” Matt said, keeping his tone neutral.

“I take it you’re referring to our conversation earlier, the one that caused you to take off like the devil himself was riding your ass.”

He’d rather deal with the devil. Old Satan had nothing on Aidan Sheppard. “I needed some fresh air. Time to clear my head. I went back to the cottage but you’d already left.”