Chapter 1
Ivy Hart stretched lazily, gazing out at the changing colors of the sea on Kuta Beach.
Paradise…
It was a place she had never thought she would visit, much less under these circumstances. She glanced to the lounge chair next to her, seeing Harper also gazed out across the water. The sun was just touching the horizon, and soon they would be witnessing the last, spectacular sunset of this trip.
Reaching out, she took her sister’s hand. “It’s beautiful here. Thank you for asking me to come with you. I hope being here has helped heal your soul some, Harper.”
“It helped. A little.” Harper squeezed Ivy’s hand and released it.
They continued to watch the sun make its descent, the sky streaked with a rainbow of colors, from oranges to pinks to purples. Artist that she was, Ivy had taken many shots of these sunsets with her cell phone over the past ten days. Tonight, though, she merely committed the beauty of the sunset to memory.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. This was Harper’s honeymoon. Only without her groom. The night before the wedding, Harper learned she wouldn’t be marrying Atherton Armistead—because he was sleeping with Harper’s roommate and best friend. The little weasel hadn’t even been man enough to face his fiancée and break things off with her in person. Instead, Ath had sent Trey Wilson, his best friend, to tell Harper she wouldn’t be marrying Ath.
Trey had been as gentle as possible in relating everything to Harper, but the biggest blow had been that the wedding would still take place the next night, with Cynthia Fox stepping in as the bride. Ath’s betrayal was horrific enough, but to learn that her groom’s wedding with another bride would occur almost broke Harper. Thankfully, Ivy had been there to step in and pick up the shattered pieces. Trey, who had firmly announced he was on Team Harper and had cut all ties with Ath, gave her the airline tickets and told Harper Ath wanted her to go ahead and take the honeymoon. Bewildered, she’d turned to Ivy, who had agreed to accompany her sister to Bali. The only kink had been Ivy’s job.
A job she no longer had.
She had worked for a Houston art gallery ever since she’d graduated from Trinity University in San Antonio with a bachelor’s degree in art. Ivy was a painter, but she had needed to find a job to make her way in the world. The art gallery had seemed a natural fit at the time. She thought she would work there by day and paint by night. Little did she know she would put in between ninety and one hundred hours a week, performing the job of art gallery director and auctioneer, without the title or pay. Lawson Everhart, her boss and head of the gallery, was the laziest person Ivy had ever met. She did his job and hers, with no thanks.
Ivy had been the one to manage the gallery’s staff. She had trained them in on how to handle artwork to prevent damage to paintings and sculptures being placed on display, as well as instructing them on how to set up exhibitions. She met regularly with clients who collected art, advising them on future purchases and enabling them to sell pieces in their collections. She had also met with artists, reviewing their pieces and determining which ones would be selected for upcoming exhibitions at the gallery. The shows themselves had all been hers to design, as well as the marketing used to promote upcoming shows and events. All financial aspects had been left up to her, including accounting, budgeting, and the all-important fundraising.
After she had found the artists and put the shows together, organizing every aspect from style to theme, Lawson would swoop in as if he had planned the entire exhibition, taking credit for everything from finding a particular artist to the kind of hors d’oeuvres and wines served. He claimed responsibility for tracking down unusual pieces of art collectors wished to purchase and crowed about the prices he received for the ones they sold.
Lawson Everhart was an ass.
When Ivy had called, wanting to take some of her accumulated vacation time to go to Bali with Harper, her boss had refused, even though she had over fifty vacation days coming to her. When she saw Everhart wasn’t going to budge, she did the unthinkable.
She quit.
No two-week notice. No apologies. And uttering those two, simple words had freed her.
Lawson had screamed at her over the phone, but Ivy stood firm. Her sister needed her. She wasn’t going to abandon Harper at the lowest moment of her life. She blocked Lawson’s number and that of the gallery. Of course, once she returned to Houston, she would touch base with the twins, Arlo and Paloma. They had worked at the gallery for over a decade, and they had become close friends of hers.
She wouldn’t stay in Houston, though. Ivy hadn’t told Harper yet, but she had called their parents a couple of nights ago. Not only had she wanted to assure them that Harper was doing as well as could be expected, but Ivy told them she wanted to come home to Lost Creek, the small town in the Texas Hill Country where she and Harper had been brought up. Their parents owned a winery there, and Ivy knew the tasting room manager would be retiring soon. She’d pitched the idea of taking on that position. It would be a terrific fit for her, because of her excellent sense of smell and knowledge of the wines Lost Creek Vineyards produced.
It would also finally give her time to pursue her art. Never again would she put painting on a back burner as she had for the last several years. She was determined to use her voice through her artwork. Thankfully, her parents agreed she would be a natural to head up the tasting room. Once she and Harper’s flight landed in Houston, she would pack a few things and head for the Hill Country. She only had about six weeks left on her apartment’s lease, and that would give her plenty of time to figure out what to save, sell, or donate. Ivy looked forward to starting a new chapter in her life, in a place she had always thought was in her blood. Being back in the Hill Country would definitely inspire her art.
The sun finally disappeared, and Harper turned to her. “Thank you for coming with me to Bali. If I would have come by myself, I’m afraid I might have remained in a dark place. Having you here with me, Ivy, made all the difference. Yes, I could have swum and snorkeled and surfed on my own. Taken the Balinese cooking class and e-biked on my own.
“But you’ve also let me talk everything to death, too. Thank you for being my sounding board. My rock. I love you so much.”
Harper embraced her, and they clung to one another a moment, their love for each another an unbreakable bond, despite the fact they weren’t blood sisters.
Harper pulled away. “You even quit your job to come be with me. I know I was a wreck after Trey broke the news to me, but I’m starting to feel guilty.”
“Don’t,” cautioned Ivy. “I needed something to force me to act. To quit. While I loved what I did at the gallery, I was sick of Lawson claiming credit for everything I accomplished. Plus, I haven’t really painted since college. I’m determined to return to it.”
“It’s always been such a big part of your life. You should pick it back up and devote as much time to your art as you can,” her sister encouraged.
“I will. If anything, I will be more vocal in whatever I do now,” she promised. “I won’t accept compromise like a meek lamb anymore. I am going to be a lion.” She grinned. “Or a lioness, I suppose.”
Harper laughed. “I will cheer you on as you roar. Maybe I’ll even get my own roar back.”
A server appeared, bearing the drinks they had ordered. They thanked him and lifted them from the tray, holding them high.
“To us—and whatever we decide to do next,” Ivy said, clinking her glass against Harper’s and then taking a sip of the tropical drink, laced with the perfect amount of rum.
“I actually have an idea of what my next venture will involve,” her sister shared.
“What?” she asked. “I’m excited that you are thinking ahead.”
“I’ve drowned my sorrows for the last ten days. Atherton Armistead isn’t worth any more of my time. Neither is Cynthia. She can have him. Good riddance to them both.” Harper took a sip. “The biggest thing I realized is that I’m going to need to leave Austin.”
“Oh, Harper, you love Austin. And working for Sandra Bellows.”
“I’ll admit Austin holds a very special place in my heart. After all, I spent the last decade there, first as a college student and then working in the city. But think about it, Ivy. With Ath’s dad being the lieutenant governor—and Army probably going to run for governor during the next election—the Armistead influence is everywhere. All the movers and shakers in Austin that I deal with as I plan events either know the Armisteads well or are acquaintances of them. How can I plan weddings, engagement and birthday parties, bar mitzvahs, and corporate events and escape that Armistead circle of influence?”
She nodded in agreement. “You can’t. Everywhere you go, you’d be planning business or social or political events that included people who would know what happened to you. Worse, they might try to pump you for information or gossip about what happened.”
“Exactly,” Harper said. “The Armisteads own that town. I can’t change that. But I can change my situation.” She took a deep breath. “What I’m thinking about is going home to Lost Creek.”
“What?”
Harper smiled. “I know. I always wanted to leave our small town for the big city. Yes, I could land a job in Dallas or Houston or San Antonio. Sandra would easily write me any recommendation I needed. She knows people everywhere, and she could probably help me land a new job right away. I don’t want a big city, though. I realize I miss where we grew up. The Hill Country is calling to me, Ivy. I need the peace and serenity it offers.”
“What are you thinking of doing there?” she asked.
“I’m going to talk with Mom and Dad about building an event center at the winery,” Harper explained. “More and more brides are abandoning traditional church weddings and looking for something unique. What would be a better place than Lost Creek Winery as the setting for their wedding? The event center could be on the property. I could use wines from the vineyards. Have a couple of the places in town cater the receptions.”
“Blackwood BBQ would be perfect,” Ivy suggested.
“I agree. Barbeque would be my go-to in that kind of setting. Besides an event center, I could also offer outdoor space for wedding ceremonies. While I think weddings would be my biggest bookings, I could plan and execute all the same kinds of events I’ve been putting on for the last several years. Think about it. Lost Creek is only forty-five minutes or so from San Antonio. I know I could pull in business from there. It could also help out the town. Destination weddings are growing, and this would be one where you didn’t need a passport to attend. There are already so many BBs around Lost Creek, as well as a few small hotels and a couple of chain ones. Guests coming in could benefit the restaurants and other businesses along Main Street and the town square.”
Ivy smiled. “I think you’ve hit on a perfect idea for you, Harper. It would be a great career move, to helm your own business.”
“I just need to talk things over with Mom and Dad. Convince them.”
“Hey, you’ve already persuaded me it’s a great idea. It would also be a nice way to showcase the family wines. I’m sure if guests aren’t familiar with any of Lost Creek Vineyards wines, they would be by the time they leave the event they attend. You know the winery has the land. That won’t be a problem. What about financing? Will you ask Mom and Dad to go halves with you?”
“No,” Harper said, determination on her face. “I’ll pay to rent the land from them, but I want to build the event center on my own. The big thing will be finding a bank who’ll loan me the money. I’ve made a healthy income the past few years, and I’ve socked away a lot, but I don’t have enough for everything needed.”
“Maybe Mom and Dad could loan you the money. I know they put a lot back into the business, but they’ve had several good years in a row now, especially with the blends Dad has created in recent years.”
“That’s a thought,” Harper mused. “I need to think more about it, but just talking it out with you now makes me know this is what I’m meant to be doing. I’m going to follow my heart—all the way home.”
“Since I don’t have a job, I believe I’m going to go home, as well,” she admitted, not ready to tell Harper yet about her new manager position at the tasting room. Only ten days ago, her sister had been shattered, thinking her life was over, betrayed by two people she had trusted implicitly.
Now, Harper was so excited about her new venture, ideas spilling from her, and Ivy didn’t want to take away from this moment. They would have plenty of time to discuss her own move, especially since they would both be living in Lost Creek once again. This time tomorrow, they would be on a plane, returning to Texas, to start the next chapter in their lives. Ivy hoped it would be both professionally and personally satisfying.
Raising her glass, she said, “To the Hart girls—and our futures.”
“To the Hart girls,” Harper echoed, touching her glass to Ivy’s.