Epilogue
GEMMA
Five Years Later
We were married a few days after Bas proposed, on Christmas Eve, in the building with his father’s name over the door.
Camille, Thalia, and Wallace had put everything together for a wedding in four days.
They’d brought the bare trees from the Grove back in, strung with white lights, winter branches in the black urns from After Dark lined the aisle, and the Grand Cru mirrors hung along the walls so the room seemed to go on forever.
Wallace had rigged a projector that illuminated the entire ceiling, so the colors of the northern lights danced above our heads.
What I’d expected to be a small gathering turned out to be close to standing room only.
I came in on Zeke’s arm, but when we stopped right inside the entrance, he stepped aside.
My mother, wearing a dress that brought out the blue in her eyes, stood on my right.
Tobias, wearing a tuxedo, tucked my left arm through his.
The three of us walked together to where Bas waited, and when my brother took a seat, my mother stood beside me with Arlow and Brylee.
Everest was Bas’ best man, and Huxley and Rand also stood with him.
Edna, who I’d learned was an ordained minister, married us.
When she told the story of what had brought Bas and me together, she included the part about accosting me—her word—in the ladies’ room at the Estuary and telling me that the ones who get under our skin are the ones worth their weight in every button they push.
I thought back to those uncertain days, when all I knew for sure, even then, was that I loved Bas with all my heart.
There were three cakes because I couldn’t decide between the ones that were served at First Pour and the ball.
We’d danced for what felt like hours, with Brylee filming every moment, when my husband took my hand and said we had to go. Arlow had packed my bag, assuring me she’d remembered everything, then admitted that Ev had researched what to wear in Iceland in December and had given her a list.
The following night, we stood together in the dark, me looking up at the sky, and Bas looking at me because he wanted to remember the expression on my face when I first saw the northern lights.
“What are you thinking about?” Bas whispered, coming up behind me where I stood next to the crib, watching our baby girl sleep. He ran his hand over my ever-expanding belly. “She’ll have to move into a regular bed. I hope she takes it better than Thomas did.”
I leaned against him. “Yesterday, she announced that she was ready.”
We’d named our son for Bas’ father and our daughter for my mother, who’d lived in one of the cottages since Tobias came to work at Whitmore full-time.
I’d learned on the flight to Reykjavik that Bas had gone to Valerius the day after he proposed and asked my mother and Tobias to be at the wedding.
He’d asked Karl too. And Bert. Neither had made it, but I chose to celebrate the two who did rather than the ones who didn’t.
The other thing he’d told me was that she stopped drinking that day.
Now, five years later, she remained sober and spent every moment she could with her grandbabies, who called her Oma.
“Mama? Papa?” I heard Thomas call out for us.
“We’re in here, baby,” I said. He walked over in his footie pajamas, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes.
“I’m not the baby. This is the baby.” He put both hands on my stomach. “Hello, baby,” he whispered before breaking into giggles. “He kicked me!”
“He’s saying hello back,” Bas said, scooping him up and carrying him back to bed. I stayed a minute longer, watching my daughter sleep in the crib her father had slept in, with the porch light on downstairs, the way it was every night.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next book in
Heather Slade’s Wicked Winemakers
Russian River Valley First Label series,
Wolf’s Want
He’s the valley’s favorite son, whose
family is selling the estate out from under him.
She’s the Whitmore nobody looks at twice,
with ideas nobody’s brave enough to try.
Together, they’ll find out what happens when
the Wolf finally has something to lose.
RAND
Everybody in the Russian River Valley knows me.
What nobody knows is that I always figured Howling Wolf would be mine someday.
I never said it out loud. I didn’t think I had to.
Then my father sits me down and tells me a family we trust has made a fair offer.
My grandparents are getting older, and since I’ve never shown much interest, they’ve decided it’s time to sell.
I want it. I’ve always wanted it. So I ask for one harvest to make my case, and I go to the one person I’ve heard talk about wine the way I should have been talking about it all along.
Arlow Whitmore. I’ve charmed every woman in this valley at least once.
She’s the only one who’s never fallen for it. Now, she’s the only one I want.
ARLOW
My sister’s the beautiful one. I’m the one in work boots, with dirt under my nails.
What I want is to make wines nobody in this valley would dare put in a bottle.
I’ve never told anyone but Rand Whelan, once, in a conversation I’m sure he forgot.
He didn’t. Now, he’s standing in front of me with one harvest to convince his family not to sell Howling Wolf, offering me a cellar and free rein to do whatever I want in it.
It’s his family’s name on the label, but it’s the first time anyone’s asked me to be bold instead of careful, and I can’t say no.
I’ve had a crush on him for years. One season, side by side, every day.
It’ll be fine. It’s not like he’s going to notice me. Men like him never do.