Elsbeth gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. She’d faced down bank managers for her farm loan with less anxiety than she felt now, driving up the winding road to Thornberg Vineyard.
She was nervous, more nervous than she had been when she bought Rose Farm. Back then, it had been just her dream at stake. Now, it felt like her heart hung in the balance, too.
What if his parents didn’t like her?
What if they weren’t happy about the amount of time he was spending over at Rose Farm?
It seemed as if her if onlys had been replaced by what ifs .
So, what if they did like her? What if they were happy that Philip was helping out a new neighbor?
That was much better.
Ever since her mom’s cancer diagnosis, it was as if a dark cloud loomed over her. But she needed to step out from under that dark cloud and start looking for the sun to break out from behind it.
As she rounded the final curve, Thornberg Vineyard came into view, and Elsbeth’s breath caught in her throat. The hacienda-style house stood proudly against the backdrop of the mountains, its terra-cotta roof and cream-colored walls bathed in the golden light of early evening. Surrounding it, row upon perfect row of vines stretched across the gentle slopes, their leaves rippling like waves in the breeze.
“Oh,” she whispered, slowing the car to better absorb the view.
It was beautiful, more beautiful than she had imagined. And it gave her hope. If these amazing vines could thrive in the mountain climate, then her flowers should, too.
She eased her foot down on the gas and followed the gravel drive toward the house, where she spotted Philip’s blue truck parked to one side. Pulling in beside it, Elsbeth cut the engine but didn’t immediately get out. Instead, she took a moment to compose herself, breathing deeply as she gazed across the vineyard.
Suddenly, the hairs on her forearms stood on end. A ripple of awareness coursed through her body, and she looked up to see Philip striding toward her across the gravel. The sight of him took her breath away. Tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze, he moved with the easy confidence of a man perfectly at home in his surroundings.
She could feel the connection they shared. She’d felt it from the moment they’d met. But did he feel the same way?
That was the question burning a hole in her brain. That was the question she was too scared to ask, because the fear that he might not paralyzed her.
Why? She didn’t want to lose him. It was as simple as that.
If she admitted her feelings to him and he didn’t reciprocate those feelings, it might ruin the friendship they had. It wasn’t worth the risk. At least, that was what she told herself—but each time she saw him, it was harder to stick to that resolve.
With a deep breath to compose herself, she got out of the car and stood watching him as he approached. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. Not just physically, though there was no denying his rugged appeal. It was more than that. Philip was caring and attentive. She could see it in the meticulously kept vines, in the way his hands had gently guided hers when teaching her about irrigation, in the thoughtful way he listened when she spoke about her mother.
“Hi,” he said with a smile as he came toward her.
“Hi.” Elsbeth blushed, feeling suddenly shy. Taking a step toward him, she gestured to the sprawling property. “This place is amazing.”
“After dinner, I’d love to give you a tour,” Philip offered, his face radiating with well-earned pride.
“That would be perfect,” Elsbeth replied, hoping she’d make it through dinner first. Her stomach was already tied in knots, and she hadn’t even met his parents yet.
“Shall we?” He offered his arm, the gesture so old-fashioned and courtly that it made her heart flutter.
She nodded and slipped her arm through his. The moment they touched, that current of recognition flowed between them again. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. His touch left her feeling as if she could conquer the world.
Or at least, dinner with his parents.
With this newfound confidence, she walked with him to the house. The wraparound porch was adorned with flowering plants in terracotta pots, and comfortable-looking chairs that begged to be sat in. And the view… She stared out across the endless rows of vines. The view was to die for.
Elsbeth tore her gaze from the vines, and Philip led her through to the kitchen. The heavenly aroma of garlic chicken filled the air, making Elsbeth’s stomach growl so loudly that Philip turned to look at her.
She covered her mouth with her hand, mortified. “Sorry, I was too nervous to eat earlier.”
Philip’s brow furrowed with concern. “You shouldn’t be nervous. My family likes you already.”
Before she could ask how that was possible when they hadn’t even met her, an older woman came into the kitchen, smoothing down the skirt of her sundress. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and her eyes—the same warm brown as Philip’s—crinkled with kindness.
“This is my mom, Leanne,” Philip said, his voice filled with such pride and affection that it made Elsbeth’s heart ache. “Mom, this is Elsbeth.” He said her name as if she were royalty, and in his presence, she did feel like a queen.
“Elsbeth, it’s wonderful to meet you at last,” Leanne said, stepping forward to envelop her in a warm hug.
The embrace caught Elsbeth off guard, and for a moment, she froze. It reminded her so much of when her mom held her that tears misted her eyes, and she could barely breathe.
Slowly, Elsbeth relaxed into the hug, her body surrendering to the maternal warmth as she rested her head on Leanne’s shoulder. She closed her eyes, allowing herself this moment of comfort that transported her back in time. It felt so much like her mother’s hugs that for a heartbeat, she could almost believe it was her mom holding her.
The kindness of Philip’s mom, a woman she had only just met, overwhelmed her. Leanne seemed to sense what Elsbeth needed, rubbing small circles on her back as Elsbeth took a shuddering breath, fighting back tears.
With a final squeeze, Leanne inched away, her eyes glistening. “Philip,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “why don’t you pour Elsbeth a glass of wine? Your dad chose a couple of bottles specially for tonight. They’re on the counter.”
“Sure,” Philip replied, moving toward the counter, though his concerned gaze lingered on Elsbeth.
As he stepped away, Leanne straightened and placed her hands gently on Elsbeth’s arms. “It really is so good to meet you, Elsbeth.” She reached up and brushed a stray tear from Elsbeth’s cheek with her thumb. “And I want you to know that you’re a part of this family now. So if you ever need anything, even if it’s just someone to talk to, my door is always open.”
“Thank you, Leanne,” Elsbeth whispered hoarsely, touched beyond words by the genuine warmth radiating from this woman.
“Now, you sit down and…” Leanne suddenly turned toward the door, a smile spreading across her face.
A moment later, an older man with Philip’s same dark features entered the kitchen. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly trimmed, and he carried himself with quiet confidence. His eyes instantly sought out Leanne, and they exchanged a look of pure love and connection that made Elsbeth’s heart ache with longing.
She stared at their silent exchange, mesmerized by the depth of feeling that passed between them. Then she looked away, only to find her gaze meeting Philip’s across the room. The same look was there in his eyes—that same intensity, that same devotion—and Elsbeth realized with startling clarity that the emotions it conveyed matched exactly what she felt in her heart whenever Philip was near. Or far.
Love.
Confused by the sudden realization, she looked away, her cheeks flushing.
“Elsbeth,” the man said, approaching her with an extended hand, “I’m Hugo, Philip’s dad. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Your home is beautiful.” She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the colorful tiles, the hand-painted plates, and the woven textiles. “Have you traveled a lot?”
“We have,” Hugo confirmed. “When we were younger, we went out into the world to sample the various wines, from different countries and different regions,” Hugo explained. “We took a little inspiration from here, and a little from there, and made something of our own.”
“And the house reflects that,” Leanne added as she returned to the oven, checking its contents. “Now, dinner is ready. Let’s eat and drink, and then Philip must show you the vineyard.”
Elsbeth nodded, still trying to process the flood of emotions washing through her.
Philip appeared at her side with a glass of deep red wine. “Here you go,” he said, his fingers brushing hers as he handed her the glass. That familiar spark jumped between them, and Elsbeth knew from his slight intake of breath that he felt it, too.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking a sip to steady herself. The wine was exquisite, rich and complex with notes of blackberry and something earthy she couldn’t quite identify.
“Do you like it?” Hugo asked, watching her reaction closely.
“It’s wonderful,” she replied honestly. “I’m still learning about wine, but this is...special.”
Hugo beamed with pride. “It’s from our reserve collection. From vines Philip helped plant when he was just a boy.”
“Really?” Elsbeth turned to Philip, who ducked his head modestly.
“I wasn’t much help back then,” he admitted. “More of a hindrance, probably.”
“Nonsense,” Hugo countered, clapping his son on the shoulder. “You’ve always had a gift with the vines. Even then.”
Leanne began bringing serving dishes to the table. “Enough shop talk for now. Let’s eat before everything gets cold.”
They settled around the table, which had been beautifully set with mismatched ceramics that somehow worked perfectly together. Candles flickered in the center, casting a warm glow over their faces.
“This looks amazing,” Elsbeth said as Leanne served her a portion of garlic chicken and roasted vegetables.
“Family recipe,” Leanne replied with a wink. “Philip mentioned you enjoyed cooking.”
Elsbeth glanced at Philip, touched that he’d shared such details about her. “I do. My mother taught me.”
“She taught you well, from what I hear,” Hugo said, passing her a basket of freshly baked bread.
“Philip is being kind,” Elsbeth replied as she helped herself to bread.
“That’s how we raised him,” Leanne said with an adoring smile at her son. “Now, tuck in.”
A comfortable silence fell as they began to eat. Elsbeth couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so...at home. The Thornbergs had welcomed her as if she’d always been a part of their lives, not like someone they’d just met.
“So, Elsbeth,” Leanne said after a few moments, “Philip tells us you’re turning the Old Larson place into a flower farm.”
“Yes,” Elsbeth nodded, warming to the topic. “I’m calling it Rose Farm, after my mother.”
“What a beautiful tribute,” Leanne said.
“Philip suggested it, actually,” Elsbeth admitted, glancing at him. Their eyes met briefly, and she felt that now-familiar flutter in her chest.
Hugo nodded approvingly. “The name suits the place. That land has been waiting for someone to bring it back to life. It’s been abandoned for years. Just waiting for you.”
“I hope I’m up to the task,” Elsbeth said, taking another sip of wine. “There’s so much to do.”
“You’ve already made remarkable progress,” Philip interjected. “The irrigation system is nearly complete, and we found that spring, which changes everything.”
“You found the water,” Elsbeth said, not wanting to take the credit away from Philip.
“Philip has always had a knack for finding water,” Hugo chuckled as he glanced at his wife.
“It’s true!” Leanne insisted. “Although when he was younger, Philip finding water usually meant he came home dripping wet from head to foot.”
“Mom,” Philip said, with a teasing warning in his voice.
“Let’s make a toast,” Hugo said, raising his glass. “To all things that grow.”
“Especially love,” Leanne added.
And Elsbeth could not agree more.