Thirty-five
Beckett
O n Sunday evening, the phone rings as I’m speeding down the two-lane road that leads to the Paradise vineyard. I glance at the screen—Mom. Of course.
I answer. “Hey, I’m coming, I swear.”
“You’re late, Beckett.” Her voice is calm, and I hear the teasing under it. “What’s your excuse this time?”
“My double bypass turned into a triple,” I explain. “I’m just now hitting the gravel. Should be there in two minutes.”
There’s a pause and then she laughs. “I can see the dust cloud from the kitchen window. You always drive like a man on fire.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “See you in a sec.”
I hang up and dust flies behind me like smoke. As I get closer to the house, the low whirring of rotor blades cuts through the air. Kingston’s chopper is landing across the yard, the wind whipping the grapevines nearby.
He steps out in all black, like he just walked out of a GQ spread.
I roll my eyes. “Let me guess,” I say once I’ve parked, “Mom called you too?”
“Of course she did.” Kingston grins. “Just like the old days. Only now it’s not the PA system in the house. It’s my cell blowing up.”
We both laugh, heading toward the front door.
“So, why are you late?” I ask.
“Meetings in Vancouver,” he says, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. “The traffic to the helipad from downtown was brutal this afternoon.”
“Meetings, huh?” I glance at his neck and grin. “Is that a hickey?”
He tugs his collar higher. “No.”
“It so is.”
He grumbles under his breath, but he’s holding back a smile.
We step into the house, and I’m engulfed in the scent of garlic, basil, tomatoes, and cheese. “Lasagna night,” I murmur.
I’m grateful for this ritual. It’s the same as when we were growing up. Except now we’re grown, with lives that pull us all in different directions. But Sunday dinner still brings us back.
I pause in the hallway, watching Kingston head into the kitchen to greet Mom. I take one more breath in and let it out slowly. Family makes it all worth it.
Tarryn barrels into me like she hasn’t seen me in a year instead of since yesterday, wrapping her arms tight around my middle. “You’re here!” she beams, her long hair swinging. “You made it!”
I chuckle and ruffle her hair like I did when we were kids. “I always make it. Eventually.”
She gives me a look. “You’re late. ”
“Double bypass turned into a triple. What can I say?”
Her grin widens, and I know something’s up. Tarryn always lights up when she has a plan cooking. “You look happy,” I say, raising a brow. “This about Zach? You finally gonna can his—”
Before I can finish, Zach strolls into the living room, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“For you, auntie,” he says with a smarmy smile, offering them to our mom like he’s on The Bachelor .
Tarryn mutters, “Kiss up.”
I grin. “Brown noser.”
We exchange a look and crack up. But then my eyes drift over Zach’s shoulder—and land on her.
Sadie . She’s across the room, laughing at something Ryker just said.
He’s leaning in close, way too close. The guy’s got that cocky smirk he pulls when he’s turning on the charm, and I don’t like it one bit.
Ryker may be my brother, but if he thinks he’s gonna slide in and take my girl, I will introduce him to my knuckles.
I catch Sadie’s eye. She sees me and straightens, her laughter faltering. There’s something shy in her expression, like she’s not sure if she should come over.
Then she does.
She walks toward me, hips swaying in that way that always messes with my head. When she reaches me, her arms go around my neck for a quick, warm hug. I don’t hesitate to wrap mine around her waist, pulling her a little closer.
She leans up and whispers, “Your mother insisted. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
I nod and murmur, “That sounds like her.”
Sadie smiles, and for a second, everything feels right.
“Dinner!” Mom calls. “Get in here before it gets cold!”
We file into the dining room. Sadie slips into the chair beside me, and I catch Zach doing a double take like someone just slapped him with a wet sock. His smile drops, and he awkwardly shifts in his seat across the table .
Tarryn catches it too. She nudges me and smirks, mouthing, “ This is going to be good .”
Damn right it is.
Everyone settles around the long farmhouse table. The lasagna trays are steaming, garlic bread stacked high, and a massive Caesar salad fills a wooden bowl in the center. Mom’s real china is out. That means this is important.
In addition to me and Tarryn, my brothers, and our parents, Trinity’s tucked in beside Greyson, her smile as sweet as ever. Zach sits two seats down from me, still eyeing Sadie like he swallowed a lemon. Uncle Max is seated beside him, trying to act like he belongs here more than any of us.
Dad clears his throat, bowing his head. The rest of us follow. “Thank you, Lord, for this beautiful meal, for Vicky’s hard work in preparing it. Amen.”
“Oh, stop it,” Mom says, with a shake of her head. “You know very well I didn’t make it.”
Dad grins. “I know, I know. But I figured I’d wink and keep your secret.”
He does just that—winks at her. And damn if Mom doesn’t blush like she’s twenty again.
“I work full time, Trace,” she scolds lightly. “I don’t have time to make a giant dinner like this from scratch. And don’t you start filling these boys’ heads with those kinds of expectations.”
Greyson lifts his glass of water. “Don’t worry, Mom. I know better.”
Trinity, all soft curls and wide eyes, turns to him. “Really? Because I made you osso bucco last night. With chocolate soufflé.”
Greyson grins, biting back a laugh. “Ohhh. That’s what that was supposed to be.”
Trinity gasps. “The carrots were a little mushy, and the soufflé slightly collapsed.”
Mom narrows her eyes at Greyson. “That is not the way to appreciate your wife’s cooking.”
“He did appreciate it,” Trinity cuts in sweetly, then adds with a glint in her eye, “but it seems the appreciation may not be extending to tonight.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then Greyson raises his hand dramatically. “It was the best meal I’ve ever had. I’m sorry, Mom. I had to say it.”
The entire table bursts out laughing. Even Dad leans back and wipes his eyes, shaking with laughter.
Once the chuckles calm down, Dad lifts his glass. “I just want to say how lucky we are to be here. All of us. Healthy. Happy. Together. That’s what matters.”
We raise our glasses. “Here, here,” echoes around the table.
Mom leans forward with that warm smile she saves for guests she actually likes. “I’m so glad you were able to join us tonight.”
Sadie returns the smile, a little shy but graceful as always. “Thank you for having me. It smells amazing.”
Everyone digs in, the sound of forks scraping lasagna and clinking glasses filling the air. It’s cozy.
Mom dabs her lips with her napkin and looks back at Sadie. “How’s Caleb doing? Does he have any plans to move home?”
Sadie swallows a bite and nods. “We talked yesterday. He’s good. Busy as always, and…I think he might have a girlfriend.”
Mom’s eyes light up like someone plugged her in. “Really? Caleb?” She practically claps. “Oh, that would be lovely. You know, I never used to be into matchmaking, but these days…”
Tarryn catches my eye across the table, and we try not to laugh. Mom’s been on a mission lately to pair us off like she’s casting a Hallmark movie.
Mom turns her attention next to Zach. “And how are things in the tasting room?”
He straightens in his chair like he’s been waiting for this. “Fantastic. We just hired a certified third-level sommelier. ”
The room quiets a bit. Tarryn cocks her head and frowns. “Third-level? That usually comes with a six-figure salary. We don’t have that to spend.”
Zach doesn’t flinch. “Dad and I talked it over,” he says, tipping his chin toward Uncle Max. “We agreed that the value she’ll bring is immeasurable. I’ll find a way to make it in my budget.”
I glance at Tarryn. Yep, she’s seething. Her fingers tighten around her fork, and I can almost see the fire in her eyes. Zach makes everything so hard.
Dad, who usually stays out of these things unless the house is on fire, looks over at Max and Zach. His voice is calm but sharp around the edges. “Why exactly do we need someone that expensive in the tasting room?”
Zach launches into a long, overly rehearsed speech about wine education, enhancing customer experience, international reputation, blah blah blah.
Max adds, “The vineyard can more than afford it. Zach made a compelling argument. I supported the hire.”
Dad nods slowly, but his jaw tightens. “And what was the budget you were given?”
Zach shifts in his chair. “Well—”
Tarryn cuts in. “The capital outlay for the new pinot vines has already eaten a huge chunk of profit this year.”
Max crosses his arms. “Replacing those vines wasn’t my idea.”
Tarryn sits up straighter, voice rising.
“Because you didn’t want to deal with it!
The vines were over a hundred years old, Max.
After the smoke from the fire two years ago and last year’s late freeze, they were nearly dead.
If we’d waited like you wanted, we’d still be out the money and behind on harvest.”
Dad raises his hand, palm out. “Enough.”
The room goes still.
He looks at Max, then Zach, then Tarryn. “Office. Nine a.m. Tomorrow.”
Even Ryker stops chewing for a second .
Dad doesn’t say much when he’s mad. But when his jaw locks like that, you know he means business. And from the look he just gave Max and Zach, I’m guessing he’s on Tarryn’s side.
The silence hangs thick, until Sadie clears her throat gently and offers a soft smile. “I wanted to let everyone know…Rosie Kennedy’s funeral is Friday afternoon. We’re holding it at Dot’s Diner. Just like she planned.”
That cools the air a bit.