Chapter 3
Natalie stretched her arms high over her head, the chill morning breeze catching her briefly exposed midriff and making her shiver.
Her body still ached from Gemma’s going away party.
True to their word, no one drank except for the glass of bubbly Gem had requested for a toast. They certainly hadn’t gotten wasted, but they had stayed out late dancing, and the so-called run the next morning was more of a gesture of keeping their word than a run.
Still, the fact that her muscles were sore made her think that maybe she wasn’t in as good health as she had thought.
Her morning run had been average at best, but it was still great to be out in nature before it got busy at the winery.
She had a tour to give in a few hours; it seemed like that was more than half of what she did now—give tours.
It wasn’t a bad thing. She actually loved this side of the business almost as much as the viticultural side.
A lot went into the vineyard that most people wouldn’t see.
Vines required maintenance. Not just the normal watering, fertilizing, and cutting back all tended plants needed to thrive, but almost individual attention to the varietals.
Her research centered around growing environs and how vines may or may not hold a genetic memory of their original conditions.
It was equal parts fascinating and meditative about taking people on a journey through the estate.
Watching people learn, show interest, and ask questions about each area filled her with a joy she couldn’t express. The whole process was rejuvenating.
Standing on a small rise near the house meant she could get a good view of the closest vines and the restaurant.
They had opened the cellar door to the public long before she was born, but the restaurant had been added and opened when she was a little girl.
It all seemed so exciting then, with the machinery and construction equipment, but her favorite part was the menu design.
Three months of tasting different meals—from starters to desserts.
She had been involved in the business since before she could understand what that meant.
Maybe that’s why the place meant so much to her now.
Sure, she had grown up here, but plenty of people grew up in a family business and wanted nothing to do with it unless they had to.
Jordan was one of those people, she mused; he was only involved because he didn’t want to lose out on the money his father had brought to their lives.
She heard the gravel of the driveway crunch behind her and turned her head.
The taxi company was not one of the familiar ones, which meant that it had come from a fair distance away.
Regardless, the signage was very clear. This driveway was for the private residence, and all staff and visitors needed to use the cellar door—which shouldn’t be open for another hour.
Had she lost track of time? Natalie flicked away the run summary on her watch and checked the time. No, she had not.
Why wasn’t anyone getting out? She narrowed her eyes at the car. Someone was in the back, so it wasn’t there to pick up Gran, but she couldn’t quite make out who the passenger was.
Sighing, Natalie started toward the car. “Guess my day starts now,” she muttered.
When she approached the car, she saw the outline of the passenger—a guy.
The curiosity evaporated, leaving only a twisting anxiety as she saw the door open and a familiar face emerge behind it.
“Jordan?”
“Hey, Nat,” he said, smiling widely.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to balance firmness in her voice while appearing at least a little friendly.
“Nothing to worry about.” He stepped away from the cab and revealed what he was holding.
“Oh, no,” she said as soon as she saw the obscenely large bouquet. “Jordan—”
He held up his free hand. “These aren’t for you. Well, some of them are, but not like that.”
Staring wide-eyed, she noticed an odd mixture of flowers in the bouquet—none matched. “What do you…?”
“Here, hang on a second,” Jordan said, shuffling through the bouquets. “These are for you. Please notice they are yellow and orange.” The roses he extended toward her were, in fact, yellow and orange blooms. Nestled between them, white daisies dotted the arrangement.
“I see that,” she said, reaching out hesitantly.
Jordan cleared his throat. “Natalie, I owe you an apology—”
“Wait, please don’t,” she said, interrupting. “You’ve apologized plenty.”
“I’ve said sorry many times, but I owe you an apology. I need to own my shitty behavior of the past if I’m ever going to move on with my life. Can I continue?” He seemed sincere, but then again, he always seemed sincere.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat again.
“I want to start by saying there are no excuses for how I treated you during our relationship—I’m only looking to explain.
I was drinking often and not thinking clearly, and I let my insecurities and fears drive my actions.
I do not believe I’m an alcoholic in the sense that I was never addicted to it, but I certainly abused it.
And you were hurt the most by my actions.
I would like to apologize to you for everything and try to make amends in any way I can. ”
Natalie opened her mouth to speak. He had tried on a few occasions to convince her they should give it another go—even in court when she had provided evidence against him.
He spoke quickly to cut her off. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.
This is not me trying to date you, even though I was a total idiot to let you go.
The flowers are important. I did some research and thought you’d like them.
Yellow roses are for friendship, orange means energy or excitement, and daisies are for new beginnings.
I’d like us to have a new beginning and be friends if possible. ”
She still hadn’t taken the bouquet, and doing so felt like agreeing to terms she wasn’t sure of. But Jordan didn’t make speeches—certainly not ones like this. Tentatively, she accepted the flowers. “Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I accept your apology.”
His eyes sparkled, and a shy yet charming smile crossed his face. “So, you might forgive me someday?”
Sarah’s voice cut through the air, and they both turned to look at Natalie’s grandmother.
“Forgiveness is for the person wronged, not the wrongdoer,” she said.
“It is something the wronged party settles upon to spend no more time or energy on that person’s actions.
Understand, young man, that the women in this family may bestow their forgiveness upon someone, but we never forget what they did. ”
Natalie had to hide a giggle as Jordan almost snapped to attention and hurried past her. “Yes, ma’am, I understand. I also owe you an apology—if you’ll let me.”
Her grandmother’s face barely moved, aside from a flick of her eyebrows that seemed to encourage Jordan, who quickly continued.
“My actions were inexcusable. They hurt your granddaughter and caused your family great distress,” he said, offering a bundle of gladioli flowers in white and lilac. “I sincerely apologize and hope I can find some way to make amends.”
“And what do these mean, then?” Sarah asked, gesturing at the flowers.
He smiled. “Strength of character and moral fortitude.”
It wasn’t much, but Natalie noticed the twitch at the corner of her grandmother’s mouth before she pressed them tightly together. “A compliment to me or an aspirational statement?” she asked.
“Can’t it be both?” Jordan said.
Natalie couldn’t help but roll her eyes; he was sometimes far too smooth for his own good.
Sarah hummed in question. “And how many more of these little parcels do you have to deliver today?”
With a sheepish glance at the cab, Jordan shrugged. “Too many. I’d like to deliver these to Joan. Is she here?”
“She isn’t,” Sarah said. “I’m assuming there are tokens in there for Madelaine, Jack, and Emily as well?”
“Yes, ma’am. I—”
“They are all at the store in town. You do remember where that is, don’t you?”
The comment was sharp, and Natalie held her breath as she watched Jordan flinch before nodding sheepishly and replying. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Good, you can go now,” Sarah said. “Natalie, I need to see you in the office.”
Despite Jordan’s best efforts, Sarah was unmoved.
Natalie knew it would take a lot more action than a token of apology to shift her grandmother’s stance even an inch.
Her ex-fiancé caught her eye as he retreated toward the cab, and she shot him a small smile—so small it shouldn’t have elicited the relieved grin he offered in return.
Inwardly groaning, Natalie reminded herself she needed to be less friendly with him than anyone else; she didn’t want to risk encouraging him in the slightest.
Natalie decided watching him depart would risk that, so she moved to the front door, where her grandmother was. “How long were you standing there, and was it necessary to direct him to where he ruined all his prospects and was arrested?”
“Long enough, and yes,” Sarah said. “Now, office.”
“Oh, you really need to speak with me? I thought it was a please-leave tactic.”
“It wasn’t; if I wanted him to leave, I’d have simply told him to.” Sarah turned to walk back into the house and winced.
“Gran?” Natalie was about to ask if she was all right but caught herself. “Give me your arm if we’re going up the stairs.”
There was a split second when she felt her anxiety spike. Since her grandmother had slipped on the garden steps a few months ago, there was no point in offering help unless she wanted a lecture laced with insults—apparently, demanding that she let you help was all right.
Sarah flapped her hand as if shooing a fly, but she paused as they approached the base of the stairs and held out her arm. “Well, hurry up then. You’re supposed to be helping, not hindering.”