Only now, he wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. Now, he wanted answers. No, he needed answers. He needed to know why Delaney had thrown away their relationship like garbage, as if it meant nothing. How could she toss them aside, especially in so public a manner, without any regrets?
He pushed away from the desk and swiveled, staring out of the window onto the endless fields of grapes, not really seeing them. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration a familiar feeling whenever he thought of Delaney Winters. Maybe it was time to stop living in the past, stop being dragged back into the hollow void his life had been for too long. Well, he wasn’t really given a choice in facing his past. Caroline and Matthew had seen to that, inviting them all back for one last reunion.
He closed the weather site. It was only depressing him further. Caroline would understand if he couldn’t get out there until Thursday afternoon, or even Friday morning. Groomsmen were accessories at a wedding, much like earrings and bouquets. Matthew probably wasn’t even going out until then either, with his big case he’d been killing himself on. They’d fly out together on Thursday after he was sure the vines were all set.
He reached for the phone and picked it up, but before he could dial, a voice echoed through the line.
“Hello? Ethan?”
Ethan frowned and glanced at the caller ID. Damn.
William Leavitt Van Owen.
He couldn’t avoid a conversation now he’d already picked up. He straightened in his office chair involuntarily and assumed the formal position that he knew his father was also sitting in. He had always mirrored his father from the time he could follow him into the office.
“Hello, Dad. How are you?”
“Ethan. We were expecting you at the board meeting the other day.”
Shit. He’d completely forgotten about it, focused on laying some flash tape to keep the birds from eating the grapes. He glanced at the calendar on the wall and the date circled several times in red marker.
“Dad, I’m sorry. We were shorthanded and had to get some things done.”
His father’s deep sigh had the same effect it had had when Ethan was ten and had disappointed his father in some vague way. A shot in the gut. Only now, things were different. Ethan was different. Why couldn’t his father see that?
“That is what staff is for, Ethan. Hire the best and manage them. Haven’t I always said that?”
The tone was even and calm, but Ethan could sense the roiling tension beneath the words. He intentionally forced his muscles to relax and leaned back. He was successful in his own right. He didn’t report to the old man. Not anymore.
“You also said to work side-by-side with the staff. No job is too big or small for the boss. Gain their respect and they’ll work harder for you.”
Ethan held his breath at the pause in conversation. Finally, his father laughed, a short sound, less of mirth than of rueful admittance.
“I taught you well. Nice to see you took some of my lessons to heart.”
“I took all of them and applied them here. We’re one of the fastest growing wineries in East Texas.” A note of pride threaded through his voice, and he despised the need he had for William’s approval.
“That’s fine, Ethan. Great, in fact. But when will you stop this little venture and come home where you belong? This winery thing is something you do on the side, or in retirement. It’s not a career for you. Hire the right staff to run the day-to-day and come back here and take over Van Owen Financial. I’m not going to live forever, and I’d like to retire someday.”
Ethan’s hand throbbed, and he glanced down. It was clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. He relaxed them, stretching out his fingers and taking several deep breaths. This conversation had been building for months, ever since his father had had the heart scare in the late winter. Since then, he had become obsessed with Ethan coming back home, to the point of inviting him home for family dinners and inviting eligible young women to tempt him back to Houston. If not one temptation, then another. His father always said there was more than one way to skin a cat.
Ethan hated cats with their independent ways, fickle manners, and elite attitudes. Maybe he had more in common with them than he thought.
A niggling sense of doubt and fear prodded him from the back of his brain. “Dad, is everything okay with your heart?”
“My heart is fine, despite the heart attack. It’s the rest of me. I’m sixty-two and Kira has been after me to spend more time with her, traveling and doing God knows what else.” He sighed again. “Ethan, I’m tired. I want to spend less time in the office and not because I’m sick. But I need you to take over. You’re the only one I trust.”
Ethan swiveled in his chair and looked out the small window over the fields. His heart no longer belonged in Houston, among the skyscrapers, concrete, and noise. He liked the smell of the earth and plants, the sounds of the birds, even the obnoxious tourists who were starting to find his small place. He was at peace, could be happy to spend the rest of his life here, away from the noisy falseness of the society he’d left behind. Here no one knew who he was except as the owner of Hermitage Vines. He was appreciated for what he had accomplished, not what his father had built or his grandfather. He had done this, with a little startup capital from his father. But he’d paid all of it back and was starting to see a small profit out of the venture. Turning it over to someone else, even someone he trusted, made his gut clench with a loss he’d only felt once before.
It always came back to Delaney. Five years since the breakup, and he still wasn’t over her yet. Not by a long shot.
He ruthlessly yanked his thoughts back to his father and the conversation at hand.
“Samantha has been working in the business since she graduated three years ago. She loves the business. Why not groom her?”
“She’s young, impetuous, just graduated from business school. She hasn’t quite got the years behind her to be a driving force in the corner office. Not like you. Besides, she just got engaged. Soon, she’ll be married and having children. Work will take a backseat.” His tone switched to a more persuasive one, used most often when he was about to lower the hammer on a deal. “You used to love the rush of the deals, the money-making. It’s in your blood, son. I want you to come back while I can groom you for the president’s chair.”
“And it almost killed me, just like it’s killing you. Dad, I don’t enjoy that anymore.”