Everything She Never Wanted E-Book

Mary E. Thompson

• Herausgeber: BluEyed Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

When tragedy strikes…

Henry Wilson has been a strong and steady force for his family for years. When death steals one of them, Henry’s ability to keep himself together is tested. Even surrounded by people, he’s never had anyone to lean on. Not since he made the biggest mistake of his life and told his best friend he was in love with her.

Right before she disappeared from his life for good.

And the chips are down…

Cynthia Hill is inching closer and closer to the life she always feared. Still single, and now jobless, she’s living back at home with her mom. It isn’t as bad as she thought it would be, which scares her more than the way she thinks about her former best friend.

All they have is each other…

Henry knows getting involved with Cynthia won’t lead to anything but pain. She’ll go back to her life, and he’ll be left to deal with one more heartbreak. One he isn’t sure he’ll survive.

Leseprobe

EVERYTHING SHE NEVER WANTED

RAISE A GLASS, BOOK FOUR

MARY E THOMPSON

Everything She Never Wanted

Raise A Glass, book four

Copyright © 2017 Mary E Thompson

Cover Copyright © 2022 Mary E Thompson

Cover photo (vineyard) from Pixabay and used under Creative Commons CC0

Cover photo (couple) from depositphotos © Ruslan117

Published by BluEyed Press, All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, businesses, locations, and events are either products of the author’s creative imagination or are used in a fictitious sense. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-944090-40-1

Print ISBN: 978-1-944090-41-8

Created with Vellum

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

About the Author

1

Henry Wilson collapsed onto his couch with a beer and his remote. It’d been a long day, but then again, they all were. It was supposed to be his easy time of year with all the vines dormant for the winter, but Henry found he couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. It had been six months since his parents, aunts, and uncles retired from Amavita, the family vineyard, and handed everything over to Henry, his brother Ryan, and their seven cousins.

At first, losing the seven people that ran most of the day to day operation of the vineyard was almost impossible. But after their first season, they’d all gotten into a routine that was working. Henry and Ryan had taken over managing the vines from their dad, Victor. At thirty-four, Henry knew he was prepared for the responsibility. He’d always imagined he’d take over the process and work there, but he still needed his dad’s guidance.

Henry flipped channels before settling on a sports channel. His cousin and roommate, Zach Bennett, would be pissed when he found out he was missing the replay of a women’s volleyball game. Zach loved women, especially half naked ones.

Henry sipped his beer and got up to get his dinner from the oven when Zach stomped his way inside.

“It’s cold as fuck out there.”

“You’re doing it wrong if you think ‘fuck’ is cold,” Henry quipped.

Zach flipped him off with one gloved hand. He whipped the same glove at Henry’s face, who ducked, letting the soaking wet fabric slap the fridge behind him, sticking for a second before falling to the floor in a mushy puddle.

“Still snowing?”

Zach nodded. “I should have driven today, but it’s hard to justify it.”

“Yeah, well, the dinner you left is hot so at least I was nice enough to leave you some.”

“I’d kick your ass if you didn’t.”

Henry laughed and carried his food to the couch while Zach stripped out of his many layers. In Bereton, New York, their winters were definitely cold and snowy. It gave Henry a break from work, but Zach was the chef at The Drunken Grape, the restaurant at the inn the family owned. He rarely got a day off work, but he insisted he loved what he did. Henry, on the other hand, enjoyed his days free of work. During the summer months, he was outside twelve hours a day, but when the snow started falling, he was content to have a chance to say no to work.

Once in a while.

“I saw you at the inn today,” Zach said as he took the seat next to Henry on the couch. His own hot plate of food was balanced on his knees while he sipped a beer. “Were you helping Andie again?”

Henry nodded. Their cousin was redecorating the inn one room at a time. With the winter in full swing and their guest list at an annual low, Andie decided to tackle the common areas for the month of January. Her boyfriend was helping, but Henry volunteered his time as well since he didn’t have anything else to do.

“Yeah. We’re tearing out the carpet in the hallway upstairs. She’s got someone coming in at the end of the week to replace it, but Cody and I are getting rid of it. Next week she wants to do the stairs.”

“She’s nothing if not ambitious.”

Henry smiled. “Aunt Pauline is finally on board so I think she’s trying to get as much done as possible before she changes her mind.”

“Are Aunt Pauline and Uncle Michael going to meet your parents?”

Henry nodded. “That’s what Mom said. In two weeks, I think.”

Henry’s mom, Josephine or Jo as she preferred, was the youngest of the four Richliano sisters. She and his dad, Victor, were only fifty-eight when the aunts and uncles all decided to retire, but Henry knew they’d worked hard most of their lives. Jo was only 20 when her father was killed in a car accident. Victor was her boyfriend and best friend in college and was there for her when Nonna asked her four daughters to help out with the vineyard. Jo and Victor got married shortly after graduating college and were best friends for the 37 years since.

Six months after turning over the business, Jo and Victor took off, ready to see the country. Jo told Henry before they left that they’d always talked about traveling but never had the chance when they were younger. He knew that was partly because he was born only three years after they were married. He was excited to see them finally enjoying life together, even though he missed them.

The shrill ring of Henry’s phone drew his attention from the volleyball game on TV. He smiled when he saw his mom’s name and picture light up the screen.

“Hey, Mom! How’s New York City?”

Josephine hiccuped and sobbed at the same time, putting Henry on high alert. His mom was the most stable woman he’d ever met. She was hard to rattle, especially when she had Victor by her side.

“You need to come here. Now. Find Ryan and come. Honey, it’s your dad. He’s had a stroke or something. I couldn’t wake him up. The doctors don’t know what’s going on. They’re doing tests. You guys need to be here.”

Henry could feel his perfect world crashing down around him. He was on his feet, searching for his keys, with Zach on his heels. “We’ll be there, Mom. Just hold on.”

Henry hung up the phone after getting the name of the hospital and a few more answers. He went to his room to pack a bag. “What happened?”

“My dad. He collapsed or something. Mom thinks he had a stroke, but she didn’t sound sure.”

“Do you need me to drive?”

Henry shook his head. “No. I need to get Ryan. Will you let everyone know?”

Zach nodded, pulling out his phone. “You know they’re going to want to come.”

Henry sighed. “Give me a few hours. You remember how they all were when Nonna broke her hip a few years ago.” Zach cringed. “I need to get to my parents, without all of them for a few hours. If he’s still there in the morning, they can come down, but they don’t need to be driving at night.”

“Neither do you,” Zach argued.

Henry shook his head. “Ryan and I can switch off. It’s less than five hours to New York. We’ll be there by midnight.”

“Be careful,” Zach said, his tone serious, something that sent a shiver down Henry’s spine. His cousin was not serious. He was goofy and wild and always playing pranks. If he was worried, it made Henry that much more uneasy.

He hugged Zach quickly and thanked him for his help, then ran out the door. He called his brother on his way over to the house Ryan shared with Leo, another cousin, and told him to be ready when he got there. Ryan had the same tone as Zach, and Henry’s gut sunk further.

The four and a half hour drive felt like it took forever. Henry broke every speed limit he possibly could and managed to shave off 30 minutes only to get stuck in traffic heading into the city. When they finally made it to the hospital, the brothers ran inside to find their mom.

A nurse pointed them in the right direction, but Henry didn’t like the look she gave them when she looked up Victor’s information. Henry’s heart sunk. He knew, without being told, that his father had either died or he wasn’t likely to make it.

“Mom!” Ryan yelled out.

Jo stood up and rushed to the boys with her arms spread wide. She wrapped them in her embrace. Henry inhaled her deeply, always loving how his mom smelled like pizza dough and wine, even though she wasn’t near the vineyard. She held onto them and the three stood, hugging and crying without a word.

Jo finally pulled back from the boys and nodded toward the chairs against the wall. The three sat, the boys both taking a seat next to their mom. She grasped one of each of their hands in hers and tried to compose herself.

“Have they told you anything yet?” Henry finally managed to ask.

Jo shook her head. “Not yet. The doctor came out before surgery and told me it would be a few hours. They didn’t know what they would be facing until they got in there to see. It could be an easy thing or it could be major. The good news is this is a great hospital, and I know they are going to do everything to help your dad.”

“What happened?” Ryan asked. Henry hadn’t wanted to ask, not wanting Jo to think he blamed her in any way. Ryan was always the more forward of the two of them, saying what was on his mind instead of hiding from the truth.

“I don’t know, sweetie. We were walking down the street and talking about what we were going to do. We had already gone to the Empire State Building and wanted to go to see the Statue of Liberty and Ground Zero. Dad bought me tickets for a Broadway show for tomorrow night. He started saying he didn’t feel quite right, like he was sick, but it felt different. He got a headache. A bad one. He said he couldn’t even see straight his head hurt so bad. He thought maybe he ate something bad and was getting sick. He wanted to go back to the hotel and lay down, but I couldn’t wake him up after he napped for an hour. The desk called 911 for me and they got him here quickly, but they all looked worried when I told them what happened. When we got here they took him right back and the doctor came out a bit later to tell me they were running tests. That’s when I called you, Henry.”

Henry listened carefully, grateful his mom didn’t sound like she blamed herself. She was upset but seemed to be okay. Her spirits were better than Henry expected, and he tried to tap into her strength.

“Have they said anything to you since then?”

Jo looked at the door across from them. The one marked Operating Room. “A doctor came out an hour or two ago. It’s all running together. He said initial tests showed an aneurysm that ruptured. They were going to do some more tests and then probably surgery once they were sure what they were looking at.”

Her voice wavered as she relayed the doctor’s words. Henry knew there was more to it than just what she was saying.

“What else, Mom?” he asked gently.

She squeezed his hand and looked up at him with watery eyes. “The doctor said we should have come straight here when your father’s headache started. Said that was when the aneurysm likely ruptured.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Mom,” Ryan said. “That doctor is a dick for making you feel like it was your fault. He needs to get his head out of his ass and save Dad. If he says something else to you, let us deal with him. I’ll make sure he knows exactly how much we appreciate him making it sound like you did something wrong.”

“It’s fine, Ry,” Jo assured him. “I’m sure he’s just one of those doctors with a poor bedside manner.”

“Yeah, well, they should teach that in medical school.”

Henry chuckled with his mom and brother, but he couldn’t shake the unease that filled him. “Maybe Dad will be treated by a different doctor after he’s out of surgery. I wish they’d tell us something else. If he talked to you an hour or two ago, they should have some new answers soon.”

Jo pulled Henry and Ryan’s hands onto her lap and nodded in agreement. They all sat together, not watching the TV in the corner of the waiting room, not drinking the coffee available, not voicing their worst fears. They just sat together.

An hour later the doctor finally emerged. He called Jo’s name and the three of them stood as one, the men flanking their mom as they approached the doctor.

“I’m Dr. Howard. I know you met Dr. Lee earlier. I’ve been working with him on your husband, your father,” he said with a nod to each of them. “Victor had a lot of bleeding by the time he got here, more than we expected. He was very weak when we finally got in. I’m sorry, but we did everything we could. He didn’t make it.”

Jo collapsed onto the floor. Ryan dragged her over to a chair and held her while they both cried. Henry stood there, not hearing the doctor tell him everything else he didn’t want to hear. The only thing he wanted to hear was that his dad was fine. That he was going to wake up and smile at him again. That he could pick up the phone and call his father whenever he wanted.

But he wasn’t going to get any of that.

* * *

Cynthia Hill spooned cereal into her mouth and tried to pretend there wasn’t anywhere else she’d rather be. If she hadn’t gotten fired from her job as a lifestyle reporter for the Philadelphia Post, she’d be in a staff meeting. Not that she loved those, but it was better than accepting defeat and living back in Bereton with her mother.

“Hey sweetie,” her mom, Vivian, said, walking into the kitchen with the paper.

Rub it in.

“Hi Mom.”

“I’m going to run to the store after work today. Do you want me to grab anything for you?”

Just another knife. Cynthia hated mooching off her mother. After she was let go, she searched for another job, but Annie got to the other papers first. She made sure Cynthia had no choice but to leave the city if she wanted to stay in journalism.

Of course, Annie said she was letting her go because there were others with more experience and the paper chose to pick up more stories from freelance writers instead. So they could avoid salary and benefits, they told her.

Yeah, because no one needed those.

“Whatever you get will be fine, Mom,” Cynthia said. She would have loved to request some of her favorites, but she needed to learn to live on a much smaller budget again. Her mom was nothing if not frugal. Cynthia was smart with her money, but after three months without an income, she admitted defeat and moved home before she was completely broke. She insisted on paying her mom something, but she knew it wasn’t nearly enough.

Vivian opened the paper and passed the lifestyle section to Cynthia. It was her own personal form of torture disguised as keeping in touch with the market. She’d always wanted to write for one of the major publications, and she jumped on the first job she was offered out of school. Part of her wished she’d waited, but she knew the road to publication was much longer for the bigger papers. She’d have suffered for years as a grunt instead of getting bylines her first year. Philadelphia wasn’t a tiny city, but the paper she worked for was one of the smaller ones. It worked for her. She loved it.

That was what she told herself.

“Oh, wow,” Vivian gasped.

Cynthia looked up at her mom’s stricken face and her heart kicked up. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember your friend, Henry?”

Fear rushed in, jacking her heart up another few notches as Cynthia waited for her mother to explain what happened to Henry.

“His father passed away.”

“Mr. Wilson?”

Vivian nodded. “Making good wine was one of the most important things to Victor Wilson, 58, of Bereton. A dedicated owner and one of the ‘uncles’ of Amavita Estates, Victor was always the one in the fields. Family and friends alike will remember Victor for his barrel laugh, his words of wisdom, and his talent that turned Amavita Estates into one of the premier vineyards in the Finger Lakes region.

“Mr. Wilson died Tuesday evening while visiting New York City with his wife, Josephine. The two had recently embarked on a ‘trip of a lifetime,’ their sons, Henry and Ryan, said.

“Born in Ithaca, Mr. Wilson was a graduate of Ithaca High School and Cornell University. He had a degree in viticulture and almost forty years experience running Amavita Estates. He shared his wealth of knowledge with anyone who crossed his path, happy to tell you how to make a great bottle of wine. If you were really lucky, he might even let you taste a grape once in a while.

“Besides his wife and sons, Mr. Wilson is survived by his brother, mother-in-law, three sisters-in-law, two brothers-in-law, three nieces, and four nephews. His parents, Robin and Jason Wilson, preceded him in death. The family will be accepting visitors at Russell’s Funeral Home Friday two to four and seven to nine. Funeral mass will be celebrated at St. Urban’s Catholic Church Saturday morning at ten am.”

“Holy shit,” Cynthia breathed. Mr. Wilson was always larger than life. She had a hard time imagining him ever being sick, let alone dying. Her heart ached, but her thoughts went to Henry. He’d been her best friend growing up. She knew it had to be killing him.

“You should go,” Vivian said, setting the paper down.

Cynthia shook her head. “No. I haven’t spoken to Henry in forever. He wouldn’t want to see me.”

Vivian gave her a look that said she was being silly, but Cynthia never told her mother what happened between her and Henry. It was too painful to confess. Especially since she partly blamed her mother.

“I think he’d appreciate you being there for him. Even if you two did fall out of touch. He was your best friend for a lot of years, Cynthia. You should go see him. Give your condolences.”

“He’s better off without me in his life. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Let him make that decision. I’m going to go to the funeral in the morning. I hope you’ll go with me. But I think you should go to the wake this afternoon also. He doesn’t even know you’re back in town, does he?”

Cynthia shook her head. “I didn’t want to tell him.”

“Well, think about it, Cynthia. I need to get ready for work.”

Vivian left the room, forcing Cynthia to argue with herself. She picked up the paper and looked at the grainy photo of Mr. Wilson. He was older than she remembered, but fifteen years could change a man. He still had the same smile she remembered. The smile that was just like Henry’s.

A pang of sadness she couldn’t ignore hit her square in the chest. She could go to the wake, say something to Mrs. Wilson, and leave. She didn’t even need to tell Henry she was there. Besides, he wouldn’t recognize her. It had been too long.

She hoped.

2

Cynthia smoothed out her charcoal skirt as she climbed from her car. She hated going to wakes and funerals, but she knew she owed it to Henry and his mom. Even though the last time she saw Henry ended with a fight and words she’d regretted the moment she spoke them, she still thought of Henry frequently. She missed him daily, but she knew they weren’t right for each other. They’d always wanted different things in life. There was a part of her that wished she’d find another guy like him, but there was definitely only one Henry Wilson.

In high school, Henry was a geek. He didn’t play any sports and wasn’t one of the cool kids, and it showed. He wore glasses over the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen, which Cynthia always thought made him look smart, not dorky, but Henry hated them. He was an overweight kid, something he threw in her face as an accusation when she said she didn’t love him the way he loved her. She never cared about his weight, but the damage was done.

Seeing Henry again would be nice. She hoped they could be friends but knew it was a long shot. When Henry admitted he loved her, it destroyed their friendship. For him, not her. She still wanted to be friends, but he wanted nothing to do with her.

She just hoped he wasn’t still in love with her. She was not looking to get attached while she was in Bereton. Once she was settled somewhere new, she hoped she’d be able to finally find a guy that was worth her time. Unlike the career focused, ladder climbing, cheating jackasses she met in Philadelphia. She knew there were decent guys there, some of her friends met some, but she never found someone who worked for her.

Eventually Cynthia realized it wasn’t just them, it was her.

But finding a boyfriend was the last thing she was thinking about as she walked into Russell’s Funeral Home.

The place was crowded, as Cynthia had expected. Amavita Estates was one of the biggest and most popular vineyards in the area. On top of that, Victor was well liked in the community.

Cynthia worked her way through the crowd. She thought she recognized a few of Henry’s cousins, but she didn’t say anything to them. It had been fifteen years since she’d been to Henry’s house. Even if they did recognize her, she was sure most of them wouldn’t want to talk to her.

Cynthia signed the guest book and made her way into the viewing room. She paused by the casket and knelt down to say a silent prayer for Mr. Wilson. He looked like the same man she remembered, but older. Cynthia always hated the way the deceased looked different than when they were alive. It helped her separate them though. When she saw a person in a casket and they looked like someone else entirely, she had an easier time saying goodbye.

A line formed beyond the casket and Cynthia stood with the crowd. She noticed Josephine, Henry’s mom, standing a few feet away. She looked stunning, as she always had. She had to be close to 58, like Victor was, but she didn’t look it. Her rich brown hair was streaked with gray, giving her an elegant look. Her blue eyes, the same ones Henry had, were shining with unshed tears. Cynthia just wanted to wrap her in a hug and take all her sorrow away.

Cynthia looked beyond Mrs. Wilson but didn’t see Henry or Ryan. She knew they would be there, but she’d hoped to see Henry without too much of a big deal. Dropping in on him like she was felt sneaky. She didn’t feel like she belonged there, but she decided her mom was right and she wanted to be there for her friend, even if they hadn’t spoken in years.

Mrs. Wilson extended her hand as Cynthia approached and thanked her for coming. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wilson. I doubt you remember me, but I went to school with Henry.”

“Mom.” A man interrupted them before Mrs. Wilson could say anything. Cynthia’s eyes ran down his muscled frame, appraising his broad shoulders and trim waist. His dark sandy hair was cut short and trimmed nicely, probably for the service. He was wearing a charcoal suit with a black shirt with the top few buttons undone. His smooth chest was exposed, and Cynthia wanted to weave her hands in his hair and her tongue across his chest.

Shit, she admonished herself. I can’t be lusting after Henry’s little brother.

He looked over at her and nodded before continuing on. “Go sit for a little while. Aunt Christina has some food in the back.”

Mrs. Wilson nodded and caressed his face with her palm, smiling up at her son. “Thank you, honey.” Mrs. Wilson glanced back at Cynthia and smiled. “This beautiful young woman said she went to school with you. I imagine she’s really here for you. Why don’t you talk for a minute?”

Henry turned and looked at Cynthia and her breath caught in her throat. She should have recognized those blue eyes. She wasn’t checking out Henry’s younger brother, she was checking out Henry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I… wait, Cynthia?” A grin teased his lips when he said her name. “Oh, wow, Cynthia Hill. How have you been?”

Cynthia’s shoulders relaxed, and she exhaled a deep breath. She really wasn’t sure how he would feel about her being there. The last time she saw him didn’t go well. But he was just Henry again.

A hot version, but still just Henry.

Henry nodded to his mom, then lightly gripped Cynthia’s elbow and guided her away from the crowd. “Oh, I don’t want to take you from…” she trailed off, unsure how to say the words.

“It’s fine. I’d much rather see you than have to talk to one more person.”

He turned his face from hers, and she could tell he was trying to calm his emotions. Henry’s family always meant everything to him. Losing any of them was bound to be hard on him.

“I’m sorry to drop in on you like this.”

“No, it’s fine. What are you doing in town?”

“I moved back about a month ago. I lost my job and needed a place to stay until I find something else. I’m living with my mom.”

“Wow, back home. It’s great to see you.”

Someone said hi to him and stopped to shake his hand. Henry thanked him and said he’d be back in the room in a few minutes. Cynthia knew she was pushing her luck being there.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this, but it’s kind of crazy here right now. Do you mind waiting for a little while and we can talk? I’d really like to catch up with you. Everyone should clear out in about thirty minutes.”

“Uh, well…” Cynthia wasn’t sure how to answer him. She loved the idea of spending time with Henry but wasn’t sure about interfering with his family time.

“It’s okay if you’re busy. Maybe another time then. It was nice to see you, Cynthia.” Henry turned to walk back to his mom, but Cynthia stopped him.

“No, Henry, it’s not that. I’m available. I just don’t want to intrude with your family.”

He smiled and Cynthia saw the boy she was best friends with in high school. He may have replaced fat with muscle and grown a few inches, but he was still the same Henry underneath.

“You won’t be intruding. I promise. It’ll be nice to have something else to think about for a little while.”

“Okay, then that sounds great.”

* * *

Henry walked back into the viewing room, his head spinning even more than it was before. Cynthia Hill was there. At his father’s funeral. He wasn’t sure which he expected less. To bury his father before he turned sixty, or to ever see Cynthia again.

His mother was still at the front of the line, but Ryan was beside her. Henry walked over, hoping he wouldn’t get distracted again.

“Mom. Go rest.”

She shook her head. “It’s almost over.”

“You need to relax a little, Mom.”

She looked up at him with a watery grin and patted his cheek. “You look so much like him.” She swung her eyes to Ryan. “And you have his eyes. He was so proud of both of you.”

Tears stung Henry’s eyes, but he was determined not to let them fall. He had to be strong for his mom and little brother. Ryan was twenty-six, definitely an adult, but Henry was the oldest. Henry was always the one with the level head. The one they looked to when they needed guidance. The age difference between him and his brother was more of a benefit than a hindrance. It gave them a different relationship. Seven years was a big gap, but as they’d both grown, Henry knew he liked the person his brother had become.

And it was all because of their dad.

Henry had no words for his mother. He knew his dad constantly told her how much he loved her. He doted on her, buying her gifts for no reason and making sure he was home every night for dinner, even if it meant going back to work afterward. Henry grew up knowing only a few things. His dad was his hero. His dad adored his mom. His mom would do anything for his dad. And his grandmother was crazy.

“He had a good life,” Nonna said, joining them.

Henry stepped back to allow his grandmother to join their small circle. The people left in the funeral home were talking to each other instead of waiting to see Henry, Ryan, or their mom.

“He did, Ma,” Jo said. “He wasn’t ready to go, but he’s with daddy and his parents.”

“He’s in good hands,” Nonna said. “I was sure the next funeral this family saw was mine. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

“We’re not ready to lose you either, Nonna,” Ryan said, hugging their grandmother.

“I’m not going anywhere if I have a say. But one thing we all learned this week is we don’t get to choose.”

Henry hugged his mother tighter to his side, letting her draw strength from him. He knew she had to be ready to collapse. She hadn’t stopped since Wednesday morning. He and Ryan stayed in the hotel with her Tuesday night, but Wednesday morning she was on the phone making arrangements for the funeral. She said there was no reason to wait, even though they wouldn’t be able to go through with the burial until the ground thawed. It would be months before Victor was finally at rest, but Jo didn’t want to wait to celebrate his life.

And that’s what she insisted his funeral was. A celebration of his life. Father Richard pushed back slightly when Jo offered her suggestions for the funeral, but she convinced him that it was what Victor would have wanted. Henry was proud of his mom, but he wasn’t sure how he’d survive such a happy event when his heart broke every second.

Ironic that the last time he saw Cynthia he had the same feeling.

He stayed with his mom until the crowd finally thinned to only the immediate family. They’d all rallied together to take care of Jo, but Henry and Ryan were staying with their mom for a few days. When she didn’t argue after they got home from New York, Henry knew she was crushed. He didn’t have Zach’s cooking skills, or any really, but he was doing what he could do take care of his mom.

“Why don’t you two go home tonight?” Jo said when they all moved to one of the couches to sit. “You both should be in your own beds.”

“Mom-”

She shook her head to silence the immediate protest from both Henry and Ryan. “I’m serious, boys. I need a night to myself. A night that I can cry and yell and throw things and not worry about my boys thinking I’ve lost it.”

A knife to the chest couldn’t have hurt more than knowing how broken his mother was. Henry wanted to argue, but he saw the pain in her eyes. He didn’t know what it was like to lose the love of his life, but he knew what it was like to lose his best friend. He wanted to do the same thing, and he didn’t blame his mother one bit for her emotions.

“Okay, Mom. But you call if you need anything. Any time. You know I don’t care.”

“Me too,” Ryan agreed. “Anything. We’ll be there.”

Jo nodded and patted their cheeks. “Thank you boys. Why don’t you head out. I’ll get a ride home with Marie.”

“Why?”

She smiled at them. “Ryan, go see your friends. You and Leo go out. Do something to pull you out of this grief. And Henry? Go see Cynthia. I know she’s waiting for you. She keeps peeking in here.”

“Cynthia Hill?” Ryan asked with a note of anger. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“She just came to pay her respects,” Jo said before Henry could answer.

He knew why his brother was angry. He was there when Henry declared his feelings for Cynthia, but he was young. Over the years, he was sure Ryan heard the story over and over with plenty of embellishments. None of which made Cynthia out to be the good guy.

“Tell her to go to hell,” Ryan spat.

“I love that you’re angry for your brother,” Jo said, “but you don’t know everything that happened between them. She’s here. I think that says something.”

“Yeah, she was bored or something.”

Henry wanted to defend Cynthia, but the truth was he had no idea why she turned up. She said she’d been in town for a month. Why hadn’t she called him? Or gone to see him? Why wait until his father died?

Maybe she didn’t know how to approach him. Or she was just scared and figured he wouldn’t make a scene at the wake. It didn’t matter to him though. He was happy to see her. Fifteen years had dulled a lot of the pain he felt when she told him she didn’t love him. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again with her, but he wasn’t going to walk away from the best friend he ever had that wasn’t related to him.

“I think I’ll go ask what she’s doing here,” Henry said, shrugging. “I haven’t spoken to her in fifteen years, but maybe it’s time to let the past go.”

Jo pulled him in for a hug and whispered, “Your father always liked Cynthia.”

Henry didn’t know why his mom told him that, but it made it easier to approach the woman who’d trashed his fragile eighteen year old heart in front of his entire family.

“Hey,” Cynthia said softly when he walked back over to her. She was sitting on a bench outside the viewing room, her legs crossed, a black heel dangling from her toes. The charcoal skirt she wore rode up and flashed more thigh than he’d seen from her outside the pool. She’d put on weigh in the last fifteen years, but she looked good. Lush curves that captured her youth and gave her an elegant, feminine look. She could have modeled for Botticelli.

Henry would’ve given his last dime for a copy of that painting.

“Why are you here?” he asked, unable to stop the question from erupting between them.

Her foot stopped bouncing and her throat moved with the effort she made to swallow. She shifted her weight, her shoe sliding back into place, then stood before him. His eyes ran down her body, not under his control, taking in the curves the her dark clothes struggled to hide. She was still stunning, but with the extra curves, she stole his breath. His attraction to her when they were growing up went far deeper than her looks, but he didn’t know the woman standing in front of him. All he knew was that she was gorgeous.

“I know I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say I was sorry. Your dad was an amazing man.”

She turned to leave and Henry knew he had to stop her. He wasn’t ready for her to walk away yet. He hated her and loved her at the same time. No, he wasn’t in love with her. But he still felt protective of her. The girl who’d crawled into his bed more times than he could count. The girl who shared that she always wished she had a dad like his. The girl who wanted every man except the one whose bed she shared on a regular basis.

“He always liked you,” Henry blurted.

She paused, just starting to turn the corner. If she took another two steps, she’d be out of his sight. But she stopped and turned toward him. Her lips turned up and she took a tentative step back. “I always liked him, too.”

“He asked me all the time why we stopped talking.”

“He was there.”

Henry nodded, not strong enough to relive that day with her. “He missed you. He would have been glad you came.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here, Henry. That I wasn’t around. That I haven’t seen him, or you.”

Henry nodded again, unsure what to say to her. He knew why she wasn’t there. He understood it. He wanted her to fight for him. For their friendship. But she was gone. She went back to college after that break, and he didn’t know if she’d returned at all until now.

“I hope you’ve had a good life. That you’re happy.”

She shrugged, not answering his question, but telling him she wasn’t happy. A part of him wanted to cheer that she hadn’t married some amazing man and lived a dream life, but that Henry couldn’t bring himself to find happiness in her misery.

“I’m sorry about your job. What are you going to do?”

They talked about Cynthia’s job, Henry feeling odd the whole time. He and Cynthia never struggled to say anything to each other. Their conversations, even when they first met, were easy. But talking about her job, hearing about a life he didn’t know anything about, made him feel even more uncomfortable than his suit that didn’t fit quite right.

“Let’s get out of here,” he blurted.

She stopped talking, mid-sentence, and gaped at him.

“Unless you have something else going on.”

She shook her head. “No. Um, I’m free.”

Henry stood, finally feeling lighter. He grasped her hand like he’d done hundreds of times before and pulled her toward the door. He got outside and realized he hadn’t thought things through because he’d ridden with Ryan and his mom.

Thankfully, Cynthia understood his dilemma. “My car. Over here.”

He followed her and grinned when she tossed him the keys. He caught them and slid behind the wheel of her car. He cranked the engine, warming his hands in front of the vents as cold air blasted around them. He thought for a minute, then finally realized there was only one place he could go with Cynthia.

3

Cynthia sat back and listened to the music drifting from the speakers as Henry drove. She felt like she was back in high school. Driving around with Henry, out together. The two of them against the world.

When he turned toward the high school, she knew he was taking her to the football field. They used to hang around after school, her checking out the football players and him listening to her complain about one guy or another. She was blind not to have noticed the way he looked at her. He was loyal, more loyal than any of her boyfriends had been. Henry stayed by her side, never admitting how much it probably hurt to listen to her talk about the guys she liked.

He parked in the lot, headlights shining on the metal bleachers rising from the ground. He turned to face her and she saw his sheepish grin in the moonlight.

“Maybe we should go someplace else. It’s pretty cold out there.”

“I have blankets,” Cynthia offered. Her mom taught her to always be prepared. In the northeast, that meant blankets in the car during the winter, along with flares and flashlights and the knowledge to change a flat tire if necessary. She’d needed all of them at one time or another.

Cynthia opened one of the bins in her trunk and dug out two blankets. Henry took them from her and handed her keys back. They walked, hand-in-hand again, to the bleachers, jumping the fence surrounding the football field and climbing the stairs to sit in the top row, like they always did.

Henry brushed snow off the seat with a thinly gloved hand. He wrapped her in one of the blankets before tugging the second one, the thinner, smaller blanket around his large frame.

Cynthia took a minute to appreciate the changes in her best friend. Not that she thought she was entitled to call him that after so many years, but in her mind, Henry would always be her best friend. Gone was the chubby guy who stood by her, held her when she cried over one break-up after another, let her complain about her lack of a father, and was always there. The new Henry was much more attractive, but he was still Henry. He was still the guy he’d always been. He was there with her, in the one place she always thought of him. Snuggling next to her and just sitting. Not pushing.

“I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you,” she said quietly. “I should have. I just didn’t know how.”

Henry huffed a breath that she knew meant he didn’t want to have the conversation. Cynthia shouldn’t have brought it up after the week he had, but she felt she needed to say something. “I don’t think I would have returned any of your calls if you tried. I was hurt and pissed off.”

“And now?”

He shrugged. “My dad just died. I talked to him three days ago. He was excited because he got tickets to a show Mom wanted to see. He was going to surprise her. Then he got a headache, laid down to rest, and never woke up. Maybe this is harsh, but you’re not at the forefront of my mind right now. And honestly, you haven’t been in a while.”

Cynthia leaned her head on his shoulder. They sat like that for five minutes, or an hour, Cynthia didn’t know. She didn’t care either. She was back with Henry. Time stood still when they were together.

“What are you doing now that you’re home?”

“I’ve been writing some freelance articles. Keeping my name out there. I’m hoping something will come up and I can settle again, but it’s a hard business to be in.”

“Is freelance a good possibility?”

“For now. If I can get picked up by one of the major publications, then yeah, it’ll be great. But long term, it isn’t enough. I’m hoping to find something in another city.”

He shook with a silent laugh. “You always loved the city. You and Alyssa. Neither of you could wait to get the hell out of Bereton.”

“I thought I saw her at the wake.”

“Yep. She moved back over the summer. Married Jake.”

“Jake?”

“The guy she dated the summer after we graduated. He took over for Harry.”

“Oh, that’s right. I think I met him a few times. What brought her back?”

Cynthia’s head shifted with his shrug. “Life. Her third marriage fell apart and she had nowhere to go. The aunts were retiring and the timing worked out for Alyssa to come back. Of course, she didn’t have a choice, but that’s besides the point.”

Cynthia sat up and looked at Henry. “What do you mean, didn’t have a choice?”

She grinned. “The aunts set it up that we wouldn’t inherit the vineyard unless we all stay for a year and work. Alyssa included. We all knew it was a ploy to get her to stay, but it worked and she and Jake got back together.”

“It’s nice to know she’s happy. How is everyone else doing?”

Henry nodded. “Good. Andie and Cody are dating now. Kristen and Phillip broke up.”

“Phillip? That scrawny kid she used to hang around with?”

Henry chuckled. “Yep. They’ve been dating on and off for years. They split a few months ago though and haven’t gotten back together so I guess it’s over this time.”

“Wow. I still think of Kristen as a kid. She was twelve or thirteen the last time I saw her.”

“A lot can happen in fifteen years,” Henry said, a hint of regret and a healthy dose of anger in his tone.

Cynthia sat silently for a few minutes, unsure what to say. The fact that Henry was even speaking to her was a relief. She didn’t expect him to be cruel because that wasn’t Henry, but she didn’t expect the relatively warm welcome she got either.

“I should get home,” Henry said after a few minutes. “I need to be there early in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Cynthia said, feeling foolish. She was feeling sorry for herself and Henry was trying to find a way to tell her he had to go home. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

Henry rolled their blankets up and reached for her hand. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

She didn’t press for more about his cryptic words. They walked back to her car and she drove to Amavita in silence. When she pulled onto the property, Cynthia realized she had no idea where Henry lived.

“Where to?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Follow this straight and take a right at the fork. We’re at the end.”

We? she wanted to ask. Who did Henry live with? Did he have a girlfriend? She was pretty sure he wasn’t married since he didn’t have a ring on, but anything was possible. Why wasn’t his girlfriend or wife at the wake? And why did Henry run off with her instead of whoever he lived with?

Cynthia followed his instructions until she found his house, dead center of the vineyard and surrounded by twisted branches that would be the lifeblood of Amavita Estates again in a few months. It was hard for her to imagine the place without Mr. Wilson walking the vines.

“Thanks for the ride,” Henry said, his hand on the latch. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

She nodded before she had a chance to think about it. Her mother was going to the funeral, and she’d already braved the wake. The funeral would be easy by comparison.

“My mom is coming, too.”

Henry nodded. “It’ll be good to see her. It was good to see you, too.”

Cynthia smiled. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, like he’d done thousands of times, but for once, she wanted him to linger. He pulled away and was out of her car and running toward his house, and the warmth of whoever was inside waiting for him.

* * *

A sharp knock on the door brought Henry’s eyes from his tie in the mirror to the opening door. “You about ready?” Zach asked, sticking his head in.

“No,” Henry answered honestly. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready for the day. How does a person prepare to say goodbye to their parent forever? But he knew that wasn’t the question Zach was really asking. “I can’t get this fucking tie right.”

Zach came into his room as Henry yanked out the failed knot. Zach was perfectly pressed in a suit he’d worn other times. His tie had a perfect knot. Even his damn hair was perfect.

Henry wanted to punch him.

But it wasn’t his cousin’s fault he’d been twisted in knots all night. No, that honor belonged to the woman he never thought he’d see again. And then guilt over the fact that he was thinking about Cynthia and not his dead father. Then more guilt for thinking of his father as simply ‘dead’ and not one of the nicer, gentler words that everyone else used.

Passed.

Deceased.

Moved on.

It all meant the same thing. That Henry couldn’t go into his parents’ house and see his father. That he’d never stumble across him wandering the vineyard. That every family gathering would feel a little empty.

It fucking hurt.

Henry slammed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, hoping to stifle the tears brewing. Zach silently tied a knot in Henry’s tie, then clapped him on the back.

“Limo’s waiting.”

Nonna insisted they hire limo drivers for the day. The others protested, but she went to Henry and Ryan and convinced them. She said when Nonno died, they were all so distraught they nearly left Dillon, the only one of the nine cousins who was born at the time, at the church. Between them all, they could take care of themselves and there was only one child, eleven year old Emily, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t benefit from having one less thing to worry about.

Henry figured Nonna knew what she was talking about and booked the rides. As he stepped outside into the snow, he was glad they’d made that call.

Zach climbed into the limo first, then Henry followed. Zach directed the driver to Ryan and Leo’s house, then to Jo’s. Before leaving the vineyard, they also picked up Aunt Marie and Nonna. The others were booked in the other two limos. They coordinated well and ended up driving down the streets of Bereton together.

Henry pulled in a deep breath when they parked in front of the funeral home. They all filed out, rushing into the warmth. It was ironic to have a place that reeked of death full of such warmth, but it was. Henry took his place next to his mother as the pall bearers moved the casket to the back of the hearse. They all piled back into the limos and drove the few blocks to St. Urban’s. The hearse pulled up first, followed by the three limos, in front of the church. Henry’s four male cousins plus Jake and Cody were the pall bearers, leading the way, carrying his father into church for the last time. Henry, Jo, and Ryan followed the casket, then the rest of the family.

Henry didn’t dare look around at the crowd as they walked in. He sat on the end of the front pew next to his mother, holding her hand through the mass. When Father Richard stood for his homily and spoke about Victor, Henry struggled to keep from crying.

When the mass was finished, Father Richard invited Henry up to the ambo for the eulogy. With heavy feet, he stood and moved up the steps to face the congregation, keeping his mother’s words in his mind. Henry pulled out the speech he’d prepared, hoping he had the strength to get through it all.

His eyes scanned the crowd, knowing Cynthia was there. For some reason, he felt the need to see her before he started speaking. To know she was there. Before he could locate her, he saw Albert Perry, the owner of their neighboring vineyard, Perry Mount. He wanted to throw the bastard out on his ass. After what Perry put his father through, Henry couldn’t believe the son of a bitch had the guts to show up. He was sitting at the back, but still. He was there. Acting like he gave a shit.

Henry tightened his fists and slowly released them, forcing his eyes from Perry’s. He found Cynthia a few pews ahead of Perry, his eyes landing on her as she wiped a tear from her lashes, and he felt like he could breathe again.

“My father was an amazing man. My earliest memories are walking the rows of vines with him. He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, but he was also kind and considerate and one of my best friends.”

Henry paused to take a breath, then continued.

“My entire life was one lesson after another. From the words he told me in the vines to the way he treated people. The most important person to my father was my mother.” He met her eyes and smiled at her. “My parents were best friends in college, but when they fell in love, my dad said he felt like he finally found what he was meant to do. Not make wine, but make her happy. He worked a lot, but he was always around for Mom. For Ryan and I, too. We were the most important things in his life, and there wasn’t a day I doubted that.

“Dad used to tell me that when I met the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with, we had to have a foundation of friendship. He said the reason his marriage to my mom was so strong was because they weren’t just married, but were each other’s sounding board. She was the one person he always wanted to turn to when he needed to talk or was bothered by something or had good news to share. She was it for him. He always encouraged me to find the same thing. A best friend who would become my everything.

“But dad’s advice was not limited to relationships. He had a lot of opinions on growing grapes, too. Say it with me everyone. ‘Don’t you dare eat the profits.’”