The Italian's Unexpected Heir Page 7

  “Seems like Sylvie is trying to sway you into changing your mind about the sale,” Vito said as he propped himself up against the worktable.

  Enzo moved around the barrel, searching for any leaks. So far it looked good. “She’s wasting her time. It’s practically a done deal.”

  “You didn’t sign the papers, did you?” There was concern in Vito’s voice.

  “No. But I will as soon as we work out the final terms.”

  “So there’s still time for you to change your mind?”

  “It’s not going to happen.” If this was anyone but his father’s best friend, he would have told Vito to buzz off already. But Vito was a part of the family. He was like his uncle and no matter how much he stepped on Enzo’s nerves, he just couldn’t tell him to get lost.

  “Did you ever consider raising your family here? Maybe with Sylvie.”

  That was it. He wasn’t getting away with that—favorite uncle or not. Enzo straightened to his full height. But when he turned, he found Vito had already made a hasty exit. No one could ever accuse Vito of not being a wise man because right about now Enzo was about to unload all of his pent-up frustration when—

  “Enzo?” It was Sylvie’s voice. “Enzo, are you in here?”

  “Back here,” he called out. It was only after he’d spoken that he realized the mistake he’d made. He was in no frame of mind to deal with her. He was certain she’d want to talk about that almost-kiss and want to analyze its meaning.

  Her footsteps approached and he braced himself for her anger or accusations. He just needed to get it over quickly and then he’d tell her that he needed her final date for the wedding business. Quick. Simple.

  He gave himself a mental shake. Nothing was simple when it came to Sylvie. It was more like complicated and confusing. But Vito had been right. She was doing everything in her power to sway his decision about the sale. It wasn’t going to work. But that didn’t keep him from wondering what she’d try next.

  “Oh, there you are.” She joined him at the worktable.

  “What did you need?”

  “Did you happen to see the note I left you in the office?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t been in the house since this morning. I always make plans to stay far away on wedding days.”

  “I don’t blame you.” It was the first time she’d said something like that.

  “You make it sound like you don’t like the weddings.”

  She shrugged. “I just know they get loud and congested. And if you don’t have to be there, it’s best to find a nice quiet corner of the estate. I know that’s what I’d do if I could.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him. And he wasn’t in the mood to figure it out. But since she was here and before he forgot, he said, “Sylvie, we have to talk about the wedding business.”

  When her gaze met his, there was a sadness in her eyes. The look tore at his gut. It felt like no matter what decision he made it was going to be the wrong answer for someone.

  But Sylvie was smart and talented. She would land on her feet. And it wasn’t like he was planning to kick her to the curb. He would pay for her moving costs and her housing until she was able to get settled. He’d even help her find another job, not that he knew anything about weddings. Still, he would do what he could with job references and utilizing all of his contacts.

  “What about it?” she asked in a softer voice than normal.

  He sighed. This was so much harder than he’d imagined. “We need to set a final close date for the business.” When she didn’t say anything but instead stood there looking at him like he was the enemy, he said, “I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

  He didn’t know what he expected—for her to yell at him or to stomp off. But she did neither of those things. She started naming off weddings from memory. They were weddings that stretched well into the next year. He knew canceling them would create a lot of drama for not only Sylvie but also the couples and their families. The guilt mounted.

  “When you told me the estate was to be sold,” Sylvie said, “I started working out a plan. I spoke with a stellar wedding planner in Florence. She was willing to take on some of my clients. And the ones she couldn’t fit into her schedule, I plan to handle myself but with a different venue. I just have one final wedding here at the estate.”

  “You did all of this already?”

  She looked at him like, well, of course. “I couldn’t afford to wait around and hope something would change. We’re talking about the biggest day in someone’s life. I couldn’t ruin it and so I’ve been spending most of my time making alternative plans.”

  “I bet it didn’t go well.”

  She glanced away and shook her head. “There were a lot of upset people.”

  “I’m sorry, Sylvie. I never meant to put you in such an awful position.” Once again he hadn’t been able to spare the feelings of someone he cared about. If only he’d thought of all the ramifications of selling the estate; maybe he could have made this easier on Sylvie. He wasn’t sure how and it really didn’t matter now. The damage was done. “What did you come here to tell me?”

  She wrung her hands together. “There was an important phone call this morning, while you were out in the fields. I tried to reach you.”

  His gut twisted up in a knot of worry. “Was it my sisters? Did something happen to one of them?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s nothing like that.”

  He blew out a pent-up breath. “Then what was this important call?”

  “It was about your big win in Paris.” She sent him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Word is out and Tuscany Views magazine wants your story.”

  “My story?” He shook his head. “I don’t have a story. You told them to go away, didn’t you?” When she didn’t immediately answer, a feeling of dread came over him. “Sylvie, what did you do?”

  “All they want is to speak with you and take some photos.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Why? You deserve this. You work hard around this vineyard.”

  “Because...” His mind raced for a reason the interview and article were a bad idea, aside from the fact that he didn’t feel he was deserving. “Because this place isn’t set up for photos.”

  “What? Of course it is. It’s always kept up for vineyard tours and wine-tasting parties.”

  “Not anymore. I’ve started taking things down and packing up the place for the new owner.”

  It was then that she glanced around at the bare walls. She moved to the doorway of the large wine-tasting room. There was nothing left on the walls or shelves. The room was bare except for the furniture because he had yet to find someone willing to buy it.

  All the vineyard’s rich history was now boxed up and put in storage. He didn’t know what to do with it all. He was going to talk to his sisters about the wall hangings and plaques as well as the photos. It was a lot to go through.

  “It shouldn’t take long to put it all back up,” Sylvie said with a hopeful note in her voice.

  “When is this reporter supposed to be here?”

  “Thursday.”

  “As in five days from now?”

  Sylvie nodded. “See. Plenty of time.”

  At last, he had his out without hurting her feelings. “Not enough time with just one person to do it all and look after the vineyard.”

  “One person?” Her fine brows drew together. “But what about Vito and the others?”

  “Vito is off on holiday. So are a couple of other guys. They needed a break before harvest. And the other guys are busy clearing a new field to be planted for next season. The new owner wants to expand the vineyard.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Sylvie paused as she processed this information. “We can still do this. I’ll help you.”


  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s not your job.”

  “But I told them you’d do it and I didn’t get their number so I can’t call them back.”

  “It’s a magazine. I’m sure you can call the office and they’ll put you through to the reporter.”

  “I didn’t catch their name.”

  He frowned at her. He had a feeling no matter what he said she’d counter it with an answer. He knew where she was going with this. She was hoping this interview and media coverage would change his mind about selling the estate. It wouldn’t.

  But she was so intent on him doing this that he felt as though he owed it to her after he’d ended her wedding business. “Okay.”

  Her eyes widened. “Okay, what?”

  “We’ll do it.”

  “You’ll do the interview and let them tour the estate?”

  He didn’t want to; he really didn’t. Selling this estate wasn’t easy for him, and reminding himself of everything he was about to turn his back on wouldn’t help matters. But all the good memories were interlaced with all the bad memories—things he wanted to forget.

  Still, when Sylvie looked at him with hope in her eyes, how could he turn her down? Right now he felt if she asked him for the stars and the moon, he’d climb the tallest ladder and gather them for her.

  But he also remembered what Vito said about Sylvie doing anything she could to change his mind about selling the estate. He couldn’t allow her to get her hopes up that he would reverse his decision and then have her crushed once more.

  He cleared his throat. “Sylvie, I’ll do the interview and tour, but you need to realize that I’m not going to change my mind about selling the estate. It’s going to be sold.”

  Emotion flashed in her eyes, but in a blink it was gone before he could make it out. “I understand. Thank you for agreeing to do this. It’ll make a really nice memory for you and your sisters.”

  He didn’t know about that. Still, he kept putting one foot in front of the other as he marched toward the estate sale. He’d made the decision to turn his back on this place and it had seemed right at the time. So then why was he starting to get the feeling it was the worst decision he’d ever made?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WOULD THIS WORK?

  Sylvie hoped so.

  But how had Enzo figured out what she was up to? Sylvie thought she was being so stealthy, and all along he knew she was trying to sway his decision about selling the estate. So much for her secretiveness.

  But maybe this was better. He knew where she stood on the sale. Why keep it a secret? If someone vocalized their opposition to the sale, perhaps he’d rethink his decision. Not that her opinion was that important to him or anything. Still, he might listen to her, if she could do it the right way.

  It wasn’t until he mentioned he had been packing things that she realized there were photos and mementos missing from the main house. Now she knew where they’d gone. Enzo was slowly and steadily removing signs of the Bartolini family from the estate—like some sort of human eraser. She had to wonder if by removing the physical things if it would remove whatever memories were attached to them. Was it really that easy to turn your back on the past?

  It was midmorning by the time Sylvie made it to the winery. She’d intended to be there much earlier, but she’d gotten caught up finding a new venue for an upcoming wedding. It broke her heart to turn away business, but Enzo wasn’t giving her much option.

  When she stepped into the winery, she found Enzo making notes on his digital tablet. “Sorry I’m late. I had some work that needed doing.”

  “If you don’t have time for this we could cancel—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I can manage everything.” She glanced around at the bare walls. They were like canvases just waiting to be adorned with color. “I like it here.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded. “I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s so different from the main house. Whereas the house is cozy and warm, this room is huge—” she gazed up at the two-story ceilings “—and it has an industrial feel with the metallic tanks. I don’t know. I just like it.”

  Enzo glanced around as if trying to see it the way she did. “I spent a lot of time down here as a kid. This was the best room to hide in when playing hide-and-seek with my sisters. They were afraid of the big tanks so they didn’t venture in here much.”

  She smiled as she imagined Enzo as a small child. “So what you’re saying is that you cheated.”

  “I did not. I won fair and square. They could have come in here, if they’d wanted.”

  “Uh-huh.” She continued to smile as she shook her head. “And your father didn’t mind you playing in here.”

  “He minded. But he didn’t know everything that went on.”

  “So you were sneaky, too?”

  His dark brows drew together. “Hey. I don’t think I like the picture you’re painting of me as a child.”

  “Just calling it like I see it.” She laughed at his look of outrage.

  “I definitely don’t want you talking to the reporter.” He turned, setting the tablet on the worktable. He retrieved a utility knife and moved off to the side of the table where there was a stack of cardboard boxes. He sliced open the tape on the top of one.

  “I could give them a more balanced story,” she said, enjoying this bit of banter. It’d been far too long since they’d had this much fun together. This day was definitely looking up. “With what I’m learning about you, they could do an exposé about the real man behind the image.”

  His brows drew together. “What image?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The handsome winemaker with an award-winning touch.”

  His frown lines smoothed as a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I wouldn’t give up your wedding work. Journalism definitely isn’t your calling.”

  “What? I liked that tag line. Maybe this is better—Sexy Winemaker Wins Big.”

  “First, who is this sexy person? And second, it wasn’t that big.”

  “And who’s being modest now?”

  He didn’t answer her as he lined up the framed prints on the table. “These are the photos we had hung in here for the tours that give a brief tutorial of the winemaking process.”

  She moved next to him. She gazed down at the photos that she’d seen numerous times in the past, but this time she saw them differently. Instead of telling the story of how grapes were turned into wine, she saw the story of Enzo’s past.

  In the first photo was a picture of a woman picking grapes. She was smiling brightly while holding a cluster of grapes. Sylvie didn’t need to be told; it was clear it was his mother. Carla Bartolini had been a beautiful woman, just like her daughters.

  Sylvie made her way down the table, looking at each photo. Enzo quietly followed her. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking but she didn’t want to disturb the moment.

  She paused in front of the photo of a man in this very room. Though she’d never met Aldo Bartolini, she knew without a doubt it was Enzo’s father. The resemblance was that great.

  There were other photos of Enzo and his sisters when they were young. In one framed photo, the entire family was standing in front of four large holding tanks. “You all look so happy.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” he muttered.

  “Really?” Her gaze moved from him to the photo and back to him again. “Are you saying you and your family weren’t happy in this photo?”

  “I’m saying I don’t know.” He moved next to her and stared at the photo. “I thought we were happy. But now I know all those happy moments were covering up big secrets. I don’t know what was real and what was just for show.”

  “Maybe you don’t need to figure it out. Maybe you just need to accept the memories the way they are in your mind. I’m sure your parents w
ould want that for you.”

  “But how can they be so happy when they were keeping something so explosive from us?”

  “Perhaps it’s because they’d made peace with their decision. They had to believe they were doing the right thing for their family. And then they let it go because otherwise it would have destroyed the family you knew. Just like you need to let go of the anger at them and the guilt you’ve heaped on yourself before it destroys you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do that. You don’t understand.”

  Sylvie turned to him. “Why are you so willing to just reject the happiness you felt? It was a real and genuine emotion. You should be embracing it instead of rejecting it.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Embracing the good memories of your mother?”

  “I’m trying.”

  “But you’re still blaming yourself for not being there for her as much as you feel you should have been.”

  She nodded.

  “Then how is that so different from what I’m doing?”

  She glanced away. She supposed that in a way, it wasn’t. Maybe they both had some letting-go to do. Maybe it was what they both needed to do before either of them could be truly happy.

  And then she remembered something she’d forgotten in her grief. It was a conversation with her mother near the end. Sylvie had been apologizing for having to leave for work when her mother had told her she understood. And she was proud of her. She said that Sylvie was the best daughter she could have ever hoped for. And that soon she would be reunited with Sylvie’s father, and both of them would be watching over her, smiling down upon her. She urged Sylvie to find a love like that for herself—a love that would last all of eternity.

  Sylvie’s gaze moved to Enzo. What would her mother make of him? Would she tell Sylvie to cut her losses and leave the estate? She had so many questions. In this moment she missed her mother with such a fierce intensity.