All I've Waited For

“Then how did you two meet?”
Claire eyed Derek. If she were worried that Derek hadn’t told his family much about her—okay, nothing actually, other than the fact he was engaged and bringing his fiancée home for a bit—she didn’t show it. “My grandfather owns the vineyard where Derek interned. I lived with my mother in Paris as a child and visited the vineyard every summer. Fell in love with it immediately. It is a part of me. I believe you understand this.” She tilted a smile at Dad.
He grinned back. “I do indeed.”
“Oui. A few years ago, I decided to work for my grandfather full time. He is getting older, having some memory issues. While he would not admit it, he needed my help. And I was glad to give it, to gain the chance to learn more about the operational side of the business. You see, I’m set to inherit the vineyard when …” Claire placed her wineglass on the low wooden table that separated her and Derek from his dad and Nancy, then casually sneaked her hand inside of Derek’s. “Well, eventually.”
“And that’s how we met.” Derek checked his watch. They had a lot to discuss, and today had been a waste of time.
Okay, waste was probably too strong of a word, given that he’d been able to catch up with his sisters, niece, dad, and stepmom. But other than his and Claire’s appointment to start planning their wedding this afternoon, nothing they’d done had moved him any closer to his goal.
And it was questionable whether the appointment had really done so. He’d hardly heard a word of it—not when he’d seen her again.
Ashley Baker had always been a knockout, but today she’d been positively radiant in her tight jeans, a red shirt that brought out the blue in her eyes, and that blonde hair hanging to her trim waist. But the way his breath had caught at the sight of her had nothing to do with her looks.
Okay, maybe not nothing. But it was much more driven by the very real reminder of the way she’d splayed open his heart with her rejection all those months ago.
Still, despite the memories, Derek had to stay focused on the reason he’d returned to Walker Beach in the first place. And even if it were a bit uncomfortable, he would work with Ashley and Claire to get a nice wedding planned. Claire deserved that and more.
He fixed his gaze on Dad again, who looked ready to bend in half and take a snooze. “So … Jorge?”
Nancy gave Dad that look once more, patted his arm, and stood. “Claire, you look as tired as I feel. Would you like to head inside with me?”
Claire squeezed Derek’s hand. “Of course.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, the scent of her vanilla perfume enveloping him, then followed Nancy into the two-story house.
He turned. “Is everything all right, Dad?”
His father set aside his glass and stood, nearly toppling over at the movement.
Derek jumped forward to help him, but Dad swatted his hand away. “I’m fine, son.” Picking up his cane, he pointed it toward the field. “Let’s walk and talk.”
Jack Campbell was a stubborn man, and Derek had always admired him for it. But right now, with his health clearly failing, Derek couldn’t help but wish his father had a little less bull and a little more sheep in him.
They made their way down the wooden deck steps and onto the dirt and soil. With his dad next to him, they made slow progress. Derek examined the nearest plant, finding tiny green buds and miniature grape leaves sprouting along the vine. Their shoots grew upward as their workers had been instructed to prune any down-facing shoots. This practice reduced the number of overall grapes they’d get, but that didn’t worry Derek. Any viticulturist worth his salt knew that allowing the vine to focus on fewer grapes led to a more concentrated product, and he’d much rather have quality over quantity.
“How are the vines doing as a whole this year?” They’d talked about business here and there while he was overseas, but Dad had always seemed to change the subject somehow.
Now, he remained quiet for a few long moments, his lips quirked to one side. “We lost some in the eastern quadrant to disease last month.”
That stopped Derek in his tracks. “How did Jorge let that happen?” The vineyard manager should have had his people checking the plants religiously every week. There was no excuse for that. “What are we paying him for?”
“We’re not.”
“Come again?”
His dad sighed and leaned heavily on his cane. “I had to let him go four months ago.”
“What?” Derek couldn’t help the bite in his tone. “Why?”
“You know I purchased new equipment a few years back. Then I was in the hospital for a short spell last year. The bills started adding up. I had to make a tough call.”
And Derek’s sisters hadn’t told him? He was going to be having a very frank discussion with them both, and soon. “I would have come home.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Your purpose in going to France was to learn new ways of doing things, to bring our vineyard up to snuff, make us more competitive.”
“But that will only work if the vineyard is still around long enough for me to implement what I’ve learned.” Derek dragged his hands through his hair. “What about that grant you received from the city of Walker Beach a few months ago?”
“It’s significant, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough, not since the hospital bills hit. Our insurance is only for catastrophic stuff.” Dad looked out across the field, quiet. He’d once been the strongest man Derek knew, someone who ruled his house and business with wisdom and kindness, but also an iron will. Now look at him.
His gut twisted. “Did you look into a business loan?”
The sad smile on Dad’s face let Derek know his father was one step ahead of him.