The Prodigal Son. Beth Andrews

tight, Aidan slowly got to his feet. “You have to partner with us—move back to Jewell and help run the winery. If you don’t, Mom’s going to sell the Diamond Dust to someone else.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      IT WAS A JOKE. SOME SORT of elaborate prank. It had to be.

      Matt hunched his shoulders against the cold morning breeze and closed the front door of his mom’s house. The Diamond Dust meant too much to his mother for her to just toss it aside like it was an old sweater that didn’t fit her anymore.

      Besides, he’d been home almost two days and she hadn’t once mentioned anything about selling the winery to him.

      How could she not have told him before?

      Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he headed down the winding road hoping to catch her on the way back from her daily walk—and to give himself time to work off some of his building irritation. He didn’t want to face her until he’d gotten this surge of unreasonable panic under control.

      He passed between a large block of Cabernet Franc vines and some Nortons—plants he and Brady had helped their father put in over fifteen years ago. The sun rose above the hills to his right, splashing light on the bare trees, illuminating the frost on the ground. Ten minutes later, his nose freezing, his ears stinging with cold, he reached the farmhouse which had been extensively renovated to house the Diamond Dust’s gift shop and tasting room. Just beyond it was the actual winery, a building designed to match the weathered exterior of the farmhouse but with a large cellar for making and storing the wine.

      Frowning, he stared across the empty parking lot then narrowed his eyes as he studied the rows of vines in the number ten block. Or was it number eleven? Either way, they hadn’t even been pruned yet, which was a mistake since it was the middle of February. And they really should install a drip irrigation…

      He ground his back teeth together. Whoa. Back up there, hotshot. None of that was his concern. And by God, he was going to keep it that way.

      A dog barked. Matt glanced over to see Aidan’s Irish setter, Lily, keeping pace beside his mother as they came around the bend.

      “Have you lost your mind?” he asked.

      “What was that?” Not slowing, she reached under the wide, white headband covering her short cap of hair and pulled a set of headphones away from her ears. He noticed the small MP3 player hooked to her pocket. Good to see she was using the birthday gift he’d given her.

      “I asked if you’d lost your mind.”

      The sun picked out the gray strands in her dark blond hair as her arms pumped furiously at her sides, the shiny, dark blue material of her windbreaker swishing softly. “If I had, would I even be aware of it?”

      He took hold of her elbow, forcing her to stop. “Did you threaten to sell the Diamond Dust to a third party if Aidan, Brady and I don’t agree to take over?”

      He held his breath while she squinted up at him from behind her glasses, the lines around her eyes prominent. “I wouldn’t call it a threat.”

      He dropped her arm, his stomach sinking. “What would you call it?”

      “An opportunity.”

      “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

      “Do not raise your voice to me, Matthew,” she said in an all-too-familiar tone. “If you can’t discuss this in a calm, reasonable manner, then there’s nothing more to say.”

      “You’re trying to ruin my life and you want me to be reasonable?”

      “For your information,” she said so coldly it made the morning temperatures feel practically balmy, “this is not some evil plot geared toward the destruction of your happiness.”

      Sure seemed that way to him.

      “Wait a minute,” he said, starting to pace, “was this Al’s idea?” Retired Senator Al Wallace, his mother’s fiancé, seemed like a nice enough guy, but Matt had only met him a few times. Somehow he couldn’t fathom his mother coming up with this idea on her own.

      “Of course not. Al only wants me to be happy.” She exhaled heavily, her breath forming a soft cloud. “I’ve just realized it’s…it’s time for me to step back from the Diamond Dust.”

      “So step back,” he said, wincing at how desperate he sounded. “You want to retire? Fine. Go on and move to D.C. after you get married. Aidan and Brady can keep the winery running.”

      “They could,” she agreed. “But, Matt, I’m not going to be around forever—”

      “Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered.

      “—and I want to make sure the winery is in good hands. Aidan and Brady need a quality vintner’s expertise if they want to do more than simply keep the winery afloat. I see no reason to drag this out. Especially when I have interest from a prospective buyer.”

      He stopped and gaped at her. “What?”

      “An old friend of Al’s contacted me last week. He asked if I was considering retiring since Al and I were engaged. Seems he, along with his daughter and son-in-law, are interested in purchasing an established winery and he thinks the Diamond Dust would be a good fit for them.” She sent him a pitying glance. “Didn’t your brothers explain all of this?”

      “Guess they left a few details out.”

      Like the most important fact of all. Instead, Brady had, according to his usual M.O., remained silent while Aidan had gone on about their responsibility to their heritage and their father’s memory. Neither one had mentioned there was a real live buyer interested in the winery.

      Matt shoved his numb fingers into his pockets. “Being interested isn’t the same as having an offer on the table.”

      She gave him her, do you really think I’m an idiot? look, the one she’d used when he’d been fifteen and had tried to sneak out of the house with two bottles of wine tucked inside his jacket.

      “He’s already made a substantial initial offer on the business.”

      “How substantial?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

      She tipped her head to the side. “Fourteen point five.”

      His mouth fell open. He shut it. Opened it again. “As in…million?” She nodded. “Just for the winery?” He’d known the Diamond Dust was profitable but he’d never have guessed it did that well.

      “For the business, the property and buildings.”

      His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “Buildings? You’d sell the plantation? Our house?”

      For a moment he thought she’d deny it but then her lips thinned. “I could hardly sell one without the other. The Diamond Dust is the plantation and vice versa.”

      His stomach turned. No wonder the offer was huge. The Diamond Dust was over three hundred acres of rolling hills and dense woods set just on the outskirts of Jewell. Sixty of those three hundred acres were planted vineyards. Add those in with the five buildings on the property and you had some seriously prime real estate.

      And his mother didn’t just plan to unload the business she’d spent most of her life building, she also wanted to sell the land that had been in the Sheppard family for over one hundred and fifty years. Un-freaking-believable.

      “Who has that kind of money, especially in this real estate market?” he asked. “Wait, it’s not Donald Trump, is it?”

      “Of course not,” she said, as if he was the one who’d lost his mind instead of her. “It’s Lester Caldwell.”

      With a short bark of laughter, Matt tipped his head back. Lester Caldwell. Make that Lt. Governor Lester Caldwell, the son of a prominent Virginia family and a