A Stonecreek Christmas Reunion. Michelle Major

in the efficiency apartment above the barn on the property. He’d planned to rent a place in town so that he and Maggie could have more privacy. Now he was back in his childhood bedroom, with Joey across the hall in Trevor’s room. It had made the most sense logistically so that his mom could help with the boy.

      “I want to be a part of Harvest,” he told her. “This is my home. The grapes are in my blood.”

      “I know,” she murmured.

      “But Joey has to be my first priority.”

      “Yes,” his mother agreed without hesitation.

      “What does that mean for the CEO position?”

      She lifted the pitcher and refilled his glass. “Your dad managed the company and his family. Being a father doesn’t mean you can’t run the vineyard as well if that’s what you want.”

      “A father,” Griffin repeated, a little stunned at the words.

      “That’s what you’ll be to him. We’re his family now.”

      Griffin nodded. Cassie had told him she didn’t know who Joey’s father was. She’d been an only child and her parents had died in a car crash when she was seventeen. She had no siblings and no relationship with any extended family.

      “I need to talk to Trevor,” he said, almost to himself.

      “He’s still angry at you for leaving.” Jana’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “At Marcus for wanting to wait for you to take over his job and at me for supporting him in that decision.”

      “Maybe Trevor has a point.”

      His mother shook her head. “He’ll understand once you explain about Joey. I’m surprised the news didn’t sway Maggie.”

      Griffin looked out the kitchen window. It overlooked the backyard, which included a large flagstone patio, built-in grill, seating area and a stone fire pit. Beyond that was an expansive yard with ornamental grasses and beds of perennials. It was the only part of the property they kept properly manicured.

      He’d have to build a play set for Joey, as the one he and Trevor had used had been removed years ago. Maybe a tree house too. He’d always wanted one in the big maple tree in the corner, but his father never had time.

      “I didn’t mention it,” he said, turning his back to his mom.

      “Griffin.” The word was a soft admonishment.

      “I couldn’t guilt her into taking me back.”

      “You hurt her badly.”

      “I get that.” He felt a muscle tick in his jaw and pressed two fingers to it. “Maybe I didn’t understand while I was in Seattle, but I do now.”

      “So you’re going to let her go?”

      He squeezed shut his eyes then opened them again. “What other choice do I have?”

      “You could fight for her.”

      “What do I have to offer?” He lifted a hand, ticking off all the areas of his life that were in chaos. “I’m the guardian of a boy who just lost his only parent and will barely make eye contact with me. I have no actual job at the moment and I’m back to living with my mom.”

      “Maggie moved in with her father when she rented her house before the wedding.”

      “That’s temporary.”

      “So is this,” she reminded him. “You have a job if you want it, Griffin. You have a place at Harvest. You always have.”

      He laughed at the absurdity of that statement. “Not when Dad was alive.”

      “He would have come around eventually,” his mother insisted.

      “Doubtful.”

      “This isn’t about your father. You love Maggie.”

      “Who knows if what I felt was even real. I’m not sure why I thought I’d be able to make a relationship like that work in the first place. My track record is spotty at best.”

      “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

      He stepped forward and drew his mom in for a quick hug. “You give me too much.”

      A faint sound drew his attention to the far side of the room. Joey stood in the doorway, clutching his blanket in one hand with his other thumb shoved in his mouth.

      “Look who’s awake,” Jana murmured with a smile.

      “Hey, buddy.” Griffin plastered the biggest, brightest smile he could manage onto his face. “Did you have a nice nap?”

      The boy shrugged.

      “Would you like to make some cookies?” Griffin’s mother asked. “I have ingredients for chocolate chip or peanut butter. Which do you like best?”

      Joey stared at her for a moment then popped his thumb out of his mouth. “Peanut butter.”

      Jana let out what sounded to Griffin like a relieved sigh. She’d probably wondered if the boy would even answer her. “Peanut butter it is.”

      Joey stepped into the kitchen, the corner of his tattered blanket trailing across the travertine tiles. “Are you going to make cookies?” he asked Griffin.

      “Um...” Griffin glanced at his mother then back to Joey. “I’d love to, but I need to do a walk-through of the vines before I meet with Marcus...” He paused, then clarified, “He’s the man who runs the vineyard right now and I’m going to help with his job now that we’re here to stay.”

      “I’m so glad to hear that,” his mother whispered, squeezing his arm on the way to the pantry.

      “I want to come with you,” the boy mumbled.

      Jana stilled.

      “Are you sure?” Griffin scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I’m just walking through fields, checking on rows of grapevines. Your... My... Ms. Jana here is offering an amazing afternoon filled with sugar and chocolate chips and—”

      “I like it outside,” Joey said simply.

      Griffin glanced at his mother, who smiled and dabbed at the corner of her eye. “All those years when you’d try to follow your dad around while he worked. Who would have ever thought you’d be in his shoes?”

      She meant the words as a compliment. A fond reminiscence of her late husband. Because of that, Griffin didn’t correct her. But he wanted to. He wanted to shout and rail that he was nothing like his dad. If Joey wanted to shadow him in the fields, he’d let him and the afternoon wouldn’t be filled with lectures and admonishments.

      “Do you have boots?”

      “Nope,” came the boy’s answer.

      “Your gym shoes will suffice for now, but you’ll need something sturdier as the weather gets colder.”

      “What’s sur-fice?” the boy asked, his little brows furrowing.

      “They’ll be okay until we get you new shoes,” Griffin clarified.

      “Can the new ones have basketballs on them?”

      “We’ll see what we can do.”

      “Does that mean yes or no?”

      Jana laughed then covered it with a cough. Griffin shot her a glare then returned his attention to Joey.

      “It means I’ll try,” he told the boy.

      Joey cocked his head, like a puppy studying his owner after being told to sit for the first time. The seconds ticked by, but Griffin didn’t dare move. Somehow this moment felt like a test, and he’d never been great at tests.

      “Okay,” his new ward answered finally, and the