“Ok, ok. Just had to ask in person.”
Ever since Jerry agreed to sell, my father had been trying to give me money. Even Marco offered to help. Yes, I had law school loans coming out the wazoo. And yes, I could have used the influx of extra cash. Truth was, the head-start my father had given me was more than most people ever got to start a business. This one was on me. Though my loan had been miraculously approved, just barely, thanks to the law school loans, the sale wasn’t final until the end of next month. When Sunset Vineyards would be solely owned by me. Crazy to imagine when just a few months ago I didn’t even know if I wanted to stay.
“Ok, remember I told you that we were obviously not building the brewery?”
“Of course.”
“Check it out.”
Past the docks, we could finally see the path. A wooden “Sunset/Grado Wine Trail” led the way. Dad looked back at me, and then began to navigate the path. I had to admit, it was perfect. Using the funds Jerry had set aside for the brewery startup, I bought hail nets and then used some of the money for this. As we walked, Dad ran his fingers along one of many benches. Ahead of us, a gazebo similar to The Dock’s. A couple sat inside looking out to the lake and sipping wine with a basket at their feet.
“This is beautiful, Rae.”
It really was, especially this time of year. “We used the same landscaper Grado hired to renovate their courtyard and lawn. He did an amazing job.”
“A path from Sunset Vineyards to Grado,” he mused as we walked.
“A path. A place to get away, for some privacy. We’re billing the gazebo as the ‘top engagement spot on the whole lake.’”
Dad laughed. “Top spot according to?”
“According to Brooke, Marco’s sister-in-law, who’s been marketing it,” I admitted. “We’re advertising the path as a way to hit two top Seneca wineries in one. Planning lots of promotions like a shared wine cruise next summer.”
“This was all woods before? I can’t even remember.”
“Yep. You had to drive to Grado from here. Which was so dumb since it’s really not that far. With this path in place, at least.”
“Speaking of Grado, I think I recognize that particular one.”
Marco.
I’d told him we’d be there before it got dark.
“Did you think I’d get lost?” I teased him as Marco walked toward us.
“I wasn’t taking any chances.”
He’d heard plenty about my dad, of course, but they’d never met.
“Mr. Watson,” he said, coming up to him. Marco and my father shook hands as I watched. Without pause, Marco kissed me on the cheek and held my hand. He knew I’d been nervous about today. Squeezing his hand, I silently told him it was all ok.
His smile was so handsome. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to dating a model—literally. I’d found out Marco had been an actual model when he was younger which shouldn’t have surprised me. But so far, I wasn’t used to it at all. Or how good it felt to be with him every single day.
“What do you think of the wine path?” Marco asked my father.
“I think it’s a brilliant idea. Rachel refused to tell me what she’d been doing after the brewery was scrapped.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” I said. “It’s something you kind of have to see to get its significance.”
“Well, I love it. A practical way to tie your wineries together, so to speak.”
“Speaking of being tied together,” Marco said to me. “If Neo asks you about participating in next week’s Kitchi County Games, the answer is no.”
“What are the Kitchi County Games?” my father asked.
“They’re held every year at the end of October, part of the Fall Festival, just outside of Kitchi Falls. Neo is the reigning champion of the three-legged race, and I refuse to have him brag about beating me again.”
“So wait, you’re just not going to enter?” I asked. “That doesn’t sound like you.”