“That was delicious,” Elsbeth said, setting her napkin beside her empty plate. The meal had surpassed her expectations. Not just the food, which was outstanding, but the easy conversation and genuine warmth that flowed around the table.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” Leanne smiled, reaching across to refill Elsbeth’s wine glass. “It’s been a joy having you here and hearing all about your plans for Rose Farm.”
“Thanks,” Elsbeth said as she reached for her glass.
“And don’t forget my offer,” Hugo said. “When you’re ready to sell your flowers, I would be more than happy to introduce you to Martha Horton, who organizes the farmers’ markets around this area. The farmers’ market in Bear Creek gets good foot traffic, especially during tourist season.”
“I’d appreciate that. I had done some research but hadn’t gotten as far as looking up contacts,” Elsbeth admitted. “I’ve been so focused on getting the irrigation set up so I can start planting.”
“Martha would be more than willing to drop by and offer you her advice,” Hugo said. “She’s always looking for quality local vendors.”
“And when you are ready to make bouquets,” Leanne added, leaning forward with enthusiasm, “there’s this wonderful warehouse about thirty minutes from here that carries the most beautiful ribbons and vases. I go there for my crafting supplies. We should make a day of it sometime. Maybe invite Cassia, too.”
“I’d love that,” Elsbeth said, surprised at how natural it felt to make future plans with Philip’s family. As she placed her wine glass down on the table, she snuck a glance at Philip.
Throughout dinner, he’d been attentive and encouraging, drawing her into the conversation whenever she fell quiet. He’d made such an effort to make her feel part of the family. And he’d succeeded.
“Thanks for dinner, Mom,” Philip said as he stood up and began clearing the dishes.
“Yes, it was wonderful.” Elsbeth pushed her chair back. “Let me help with the dishes. It’s the least I can do after such an amazing meal.”
“Absolutely not,” Leanne said, gently taking the plates from her hands. “You’re our guest.”
“Besides,” Hugo added, nodding toward the door, “Philip owes you a tour of the vineyard. And sunset is the best time. The light makes everything golden.”
“Yes, you two go on and enjoy the sunset,” Leanne encouraged.
Hugo chuckled and winked at his son. “Plus, you really should see those vines he’s been fussing over all day. Not a dead leaf in sight. I’ve never seen them looking so pristine.”
Philip’s cheeks flushed as he shook his head at his father. “Dad...”
“What?” Hugo spread his hands innocently. “I’m just saying you’ve been particularly...thorough...today.”
Elsbeth bit back a smile as Philip placed the dishes next to the sink and then offered his hand to her. “Shall we?”
She placed her hand in his, that familiar electricity sparking between them. “I’d love to see the vineyard.”
As Philip led her back out onto the porch, the setting sun bathed everything in amber light. The rows of vines stretched before them like ribbons of gold and green. The sight took Elsbeth’s breath away.
“It’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” she whispered, her hand still clasped in Philip’s.
“Come on,” he said, tugging her gently toward a path that wound between the vines. “I want to show you my favorite spot.”
They walked in comfortable silence, enjoying the sweet scent of ripening grapes mingled with the earthiness of soil and the faint perfume of wildflowers growing along the edges of the vineyard.
“Your parents are wonderful,” Elsbeth said finally, glancing up at Philip’s profile. The golden light caught in his dark hair, highlighting strands she hadn’t noticed before.
“They like you,” he replied as he cast a sideways glance her way. “I knew they would.”
“I like them, too.” She paused, gathering courage. “I can see where you get your kindness from.”
Philip’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly around hers. “They’ve taught me everything I know about growing things. About patience.” He looked down at her, his eyes intense. “About waiting for the right moment.”
Something in his tone made her pulse quicken. There was a weight to his words, as if he were trying to tell her something more.
They crested a small rise, and Philip stopped. Before them, the vineyard spread out in all directions, the mountains rising majestically in the distance. A rustic wooden bench sat facing the view, weathered by years of sun and rain.
“This is it,” Philip said, leading her to the bench. “My favorite spot. I like to come here and simply sit and look out across the vineyard.”
“I can see why,” Elsbeth said as he led her closer to the bench.
They sat down on the bench together, their shoulders touching. The simple contact sent warmth cascading through Elsbeth’s body. She couldn’t imagine a more perfect end to the evening.
Well, perhaps one thing could make it more perfect.
She glanced at Philip, wondering if he might kiss her. Her heart fluttered at the thought, but he was staring at the vines, his expression distant, as though his mind had traveled somewhere far away. The connection she’d felt so strongly moments ago seemed to have dimmed.
Maybe she’d misread everything. Maybe this was just friendship after all.
Philip blinked suddenly and drew a deep breath, as if returning to himself. He squeezed her hand gently and half-turned toward her, his eyes intense with something unspoken.
Elsbeth’s pulse quickened. There was clearly something he wanted to tell her. She could see it in the way he held himself, in the slight furrow of his brow. But a flicker of anxiety rose in her chest. What if his secret changed everything between them? What if it ruined this beautiful connection they’d built?
She didn’t want that. Even if tonight was all they ever had, she wanted to preserve it as something perfect and untarnished.
“So, this is where the grapes grow,” she said, breaking the silence, “but where does the magic happen that changes them into wine?”
Philip hesitated, his expression unreadable. His mouth opened as if to speak, then closed again. Whatever he’d been about to say remained unsaid as he stood and gently pulled her to her feet.
“This way,” he said, his voice slightly rough.
Elsbeth knew immediately she’d broken the moment. Whatever he’d wanted to share would remain his secret for now. Part of her felt guilty for not giving him the space to open up, but another part felt relieved.
Her mind flashed back to that terrible day in her mother’s kitchen, the moment when her mom had sat her down and said those words that had changed everything: “I have cancer.” How many times had she replayed that scene, wishing she could somehow change the script, alter the ending?
What if Philip’s news was something she could never unhear? Never unknow? Not that anything could be as devastating as learning her mother was sick, but still...
“The winery is just down this path,” Philip said, leading her through the vines. His hand remained firmly clasped around hers, warm and reassuring. “My brother Kris is the real expert, but I know my way around the tasting barrels.”
As they walked, the tension between them gradually eased. Elsbeth found herself relaxing into the moment once more, appreciating the beauty surrounding them. Fireflies had begun to appear, tiny pinpricks of light dancing between the vines.
“It’s magical,” she whispered.
Philip looked down at her, his expression softening. “It is one of my favorite times of the day. There’s a hush that settles over the place.”
They stopped walking and turned to look out across the vines. It truly was magical. And so was the man beside her.
Watching his profile in the fading light, Elsbeth realized she’d been unfair. If he had something he wanted to say, she should let him say it. She owed him that much. And it wasn’t as if it was necessarily going to be bad news. She often forgot that there were good things in the world, too, that people had good news to share.
“Philip,” she turned to him and placed her hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, so steady, so strong, like Philip himself. He looked down at her, his eyes lingering on her lips, the moment suspended between them like honey dripping from a spoon.
But then the sound of voices broke the silence.
“Kris and Cassia,” he said, and held up a hand and waved.
Elsbeth turned, cursing herself for not letting Philip speak before. Two figures emerged from between the rows of vines, walking hand in hand toward them.
“Hey there, Philip,” Kris called as he walked. “We were just finishing up for the evening.”
“We recently converted one of the old barns into a restaurant,” Philip explained to Elsbeth, his hand moving to rest lightly on the small of her back. It was a small but intimate gesture.
“Oh, really?” Elsbeth asked, trying to mask her disappointment at the interrupted moment.
“It’s how we met,” Cassia said with a smile. “It’s good to meet you, Elsbeth.”
“You, too,” Elsbeth said, immediately warming to the woman’s friendly attitude.
“Yes, we were the first victims of Finn’s matchmaking,” Kris said with a wide grin, but Philip shot him a look that wiped the smile off his face.
But Elsbeth felt a profound sense of relief. She was not imagining things at all. Philip did feel the same way.
“Matchmaking?” she asked, glancing between the brothers.
“It’s kind of a family joke,” Philip said quickly.
Kris cleared his throat, looking slightly abashed. “Our brother Finn has a knack for...bringing people together. Though he’d probably say it was just a happy coincidence.”
“He thought it was funny to make up an advert for me. You know, like a mail-order bride type thing,” Kris explained, his arm slipping around his partner’s waist. “And then he accidentally posted it online.”
“And I saw the ad, thinking it was for real. And so I came here…” Cassia glanced sideways at Kris.
“And so we opened a restaurant, so that Cassia would stay,” Philip added.
“Wow.” And Elsbeth had thought Philip had gone out of his way to help her. This took things to a whole new level.
“Not that I would have left anyway. You know how sometimes you meet someone and just know?” Cassia added, leaning into Kris’s embrace. “Like your souls recognize each other?”
Elsbeth’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes,” she whispered, unable to stop herself from looking at Philip.
“Of course you do,” Cassia said and reached out and squeezed Elsbeth’s hand.
Elsbeth swallowed hard as heat rushed to her face. Cassia’s words echoed in her mind, making her feel exposed, as if everyone could see right through her. Was it truly that obvious? Could they all see how deeply she’d fallen for Philip?
“I should probably get going,” she said suddenly, glancing at her watch though she couldn’t focus enough to read the time. “I have an early start tomorrow. The irrigation system still needs work.”
Cassia’s eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting to one of embarrassment. She shot Philip an apologetic look, clearly realizing she’d overstepped.
Philip merely smiled reassuringly at his brother’s partner. “I’ll walk you to your car, Elsbeth.”
Relief washed over her. He didn’t mention the unfinished tour of the winery, didn’t try to convince her to stay. He simply understood her need to retreat and respected it without question. It was one of the many things she loved about him—his quiet empathy, the way he seemed to read her moods and respond to them without judgment.
They said quick goodbyes to Kris and Cassia before heading back through the vineyard toward the house. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Fireflies continued their dance around them, and the first stars had appeared in the deepening blue of the evening sky.
As they passed a particularly lush section of vines, Philip paused and reached into the foliage. With practiced fingers, he plucked a small, purple-black grape and offered it to her.
“Try this one,” he said. “These will make our Cabernet. They’re still a bit tart, but you can already taste the complexity.”
Elsbeth accepted the grape, their fingers brushing momentarily. She popped it into her mouth, surprised by the burst of flavor. Sharp and sweet at once, with hints of something deeper.
“It’s amazing. The way you describe it, I can just imagine the wine it will make,” she said, genuinely impressed.
Philip smiled, pleased by her reaction. He moved a few steps farther and plucked another grape from a different vine.
“And this one will go into our Merlot blend,” he explained, handing it to her. “Notice the difference?”
As she tasted the second grape, the tension that had gripped her began to melt away. This was the Philip she’d come to know—passionate about his work, eager to share his knowledge, with no expectations beyond the moment they were sharing.
“I can. They are very distinct,” Elsbeth replied.
By the time they reached her car, the easy rapport between them had returned. Philip opened her car door with that old-fashioned courtesy she’d come to expect from him.
Elsbeth slid inside quickly, not trusting herself to linger. Her feelings were too raw, too overwhelming. If she stayed another moment, standing close to him in the moonlight, she might do something foolish, like pull him close and confess everything she was feeling. She wasn’t ready for that—not when she still needed to sort through the chaos in her heart.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said, looking up at him. “Please thank your mom and dad for their hospitality. The dinner was amazing.”
“I will,” Philip promised, his hand resting on the car door as he leaned down slightly. His eyes searched hers, a sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Goodnight, Elsbeth. Sweet dreams.”
He closed the door gently, and Elsbeth started the engine, her hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel. As she drove away, she caught a glimpse of him in her rearview mirror, standing exactly where she’d left him, watching her go.
The road wound through the darkened vineyard, each curve taking her farther from Philip but not from her thoughts of him. She knew with absolute certainty that when she closed her eyes tonight, her dreams would be filled with Philip Thornberg. His gentle hands, his warm eyes, and all the unspoken words that hung between them.
What did Cassia mean about souls recognizing each other? The question circled in Elsbeth’s mind as she navigated the moonlit road. There was clearly something special about the Thornberg family, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
But then she barely knew him.
That wasn’t true, was it? She felt as though she’d known Philip forever, as if some part of her had been waiting for him all along.
As she pulled into her driveway, she wondered if Philip was looking at the same moon right now, thinking of her.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, echoing his parting words. And for the first time since her mother’s passing, Elsbeth felt a surge of hope.
Perhaps her dreams—all of them—might actually come true.