“This place is magical.” Marion shifted the weight of the fallen branches in her arms and stared up at the muted sunlight as it filtered through the canopy of trees.
“It was always one of my favorite places when I was a kid.” Alfie stood by her side, close but not touching as he followed her gaze toward the branches above their heads.
They’d been exploring the woodland at the edge of the vineyard for almost two hours now, and the afternoon had slipped away in a haze of wood gathering and excited discovery.
“Look!” Charlie exclaimed, dropping to his knees as he spotted another bug. He scampered after it with Alfie’s special magnifying glass clutched carefully in his hand. “This one has stripes!”
Marion nodded toward her nephew. “You’d better go and identify it for him,” she told Alfie, even though she longed for him to stay by her side.
Alfie glanced at Charlie, and then back at her, giving her the impression he was torn between who he would rather spend time with. With a wistful smile that made her blush, Alfie nodded. “I’ll be right there.”
She liked that Alfie put Charlie first, that he understood her nephew needed this sense of connection.
“I can gather more logs,” she assured Alfie, hoisting them higher in her arms to prove her point.
Alfie chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made her stomach do a slow flip. “I think we have enough,” he said, tucking his own pile under his arm as he went to Charlie and crouched down beside him.
Marion watched as Alfie patiently identified the bug and then explained how it was eating the leaf, his voice hushed but animated. Charlie hung on every word, his face filled with fascination. Her affection for Alfie threatened to grow into something more.
How could it not? He’d spent hours showing her nephew the wonders hidden in fallen logs and forest undergrowth, never once growing impatient or bored.
“I’m hungry,” Charlie announced suddenly, looking up from the bug with the abrupt shift in focus only a child could manage.
Marion glanced at her watch, surprised to see how late it had grown. “We should get home for dinner,” she said, already mentally cataloging what she had in the refrigerator that could be quickly transformed into a meal.
“Can Alfie stay for dinner?” Charlie piped up, his hopeful gaze darting between the two adults.
Marion opened her mouth, but no words came out. She would love Alfie to stay for dinner, and longer. But she didn’t want to pressure him. He’d already been so generous with his time, once again.
Alfie cast a look over his shoulder at her, as if trying to assess her reaction.
So Marion took the plunge. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded despite the nervous flutter in her chest.
Alfie’s face lit up with a smile that seemed to radiate pure happiness. “I’d love to,” he said.
Charlie whooped with delight, punching the air with his free hand. “Yes! Alfie’s coming for dinner! Alfie’s coming for dinner!”
“We’d better head back then,” Marion said, smiling at her nephew’s enthusiasm.
Alfie and Marion carried the logs, while Charlie gathered the small treasures he’d found, a few interesting stones, and a pine cone dropped by a squirrel.
They were the start of his nature museum, and as they made their way back through the forest toward the vineyard, he scoured the forest floor for any other interesting objects.
“Look!” Charlie crouched down and carefully picked up a piece of eggshell.
“It’s belongs to a robin,” Alfie told him. “See how blue it is?” Alfie looked up into the tree above. “Look, there’s the nest.”
“Does it have baby birds in it?” Charlie whispered as if he didn’t want to disturb them.
Alfie was silent for a moment, his head tilted to one side. “No, they have flown the nest.”
“Can I keep the eggshell for my nature museum?” Charlie asked.
“You can,” Alfie said. “But you must never take eggs from a nest.”
“I know,” Charlie said, running his finger lightly over the eggshell.
“So, a nature museum?” Alfie asked. “That is a cool idea.”
As they emerged from the tree line, the view stole Marion’s breath away all over again. The terracotta roof gleamed golden in the late afternoon sun, while the leaves of the vines seemed to sparkle like emeralds as they fluttered in the breeze.
It was perfect.
Just like the man walking beside her, Marion thought, stealing a glance at Alfie’s profile. His quiet strength, his patience, his gentle kindness, all of it wrapped in a package that made her heart beat faster whenever he smiled at her.
“Oh!” Alfie stopped suddenly beside her. “Before we go, I should grab a bottle of wine for dinner. Would you mind a quick detour?”
“Not at all,” Marion replied, even though her arms ached from holding the branches.
“Is it from your grapes?” Charlie asked, skipping alongside them as they changed direction.
“Some of them,” Alfie nodded. “My parents have been making wine here for over thirty years.”
He led them toward a stone building set partially into the hillside and set down his logs. Marion did the same, thankful for the chance to stretch her arms. Then he pulled open the heavy wooden door and cool air wafted out, carrying with it the rich, earthy scent of aging wine.
“Whoa,” Charlie breathed, stepping inside. His eyes widened as he took in the enormous oak barrels lining the walls and the racks of bottles stretching into the shadows.
“This is where the magic happens,” Alfie said, his voice dropping to a reverent tone that matched the hushed atmosphere. “The wine ages here, developing its character.”
Marion moved deeper into the room, drawn by its quiet serenity. “It’s incredible,” she murmured, running her fingers lightly over the smooth surface of a barrel.
“My father calls it the heart of the vineyard,” Alfie said, moving to a rack of bottles. He studied the labels carefully before selecting one. “I think you’ll like this. It’s one of our Cabernets, not too heavy.”
“I’m sure it will be perfect,” Marion said, watching as he cradled the bottle with obvious affection.
“Can we explore?” Charlie asked, his hunger obviously forgotten.
“Another time,” Alfie said, and Charlie didn’t argue as they headed back toward the entrance.
When they emerged back into the sunlight, Charlie blinked rapidly, adjusting to the brightness. “That was so cool! Like a secret cave, but for wine!”
Alfie laughed. “That’s a pretty good description, actually.”
“I’d like to live in a cave,” Charlie announced as they collected their stacks of wood. “Are there caves in the mountains?”
“There are,” Alfie replied.
“Can we camp in them?” Charlie asked. “Or do bears and wolves live in them?”
“Sometimes,” Alfie said. “The bears that live in the mountains sometimes hibernate in them.”
“Cool!” Charlie said as he ran off through the rows of vines, pretending to be a bear.
“He looks so carefree,” Marion said as she watched him go.
“He’s not the only one,” Alfie said.
She ducked her head as heat flared across her face. “We’ve had a rough time of things before we moved to Bear Creek.”
“I gathered,” Alfie said as if choosing his words carefully.
“I was worried I might have made a mistake coming here,” she admitted.
“And now?” he asked.
She didn’t dare look at him as she said, “Now, I think it’s the best decision I could have made. For both of us.”
“I’m glad,” Alfie said as they reached the truck and carefully arranged the logs in the bed.
As Alfie helped her stack the branches, their hands brushed, and Marion felt that now- familiar tingle of awareness dance up her arm.
She glanced up to find him watching her, something unreadable in his eyes.
For a moment, standing there with Alfie and Charlie, the three of them working together with the vineyard spread out behind them, Marion could almost believe they were a family. That this was their life, collecting logs for bug hotels, exploring forests, heading home for dinner together.
The thought squeezed her heart painfully.
She couldn’t afford to think like that. Fairy tales weren’t real, and happy endings were for storybooks, not for women who’d seen the darker side of relationships through her sister’s experience.
Alfie was kind and considerate, but she couldn’t read too much into his actions.
Even if she desperately wanted to.
“All set?” Alfie asked, closing the tailgate.
Marion nodded, pushing away her wistful thoughts. “Ready when you are.”
The drive back to town was peaceful, with Charlie pressed against the window, watching the scenery flow by as he clutched Alfie’s magnifying glass. Marion stared straight ahead, not daring to look at Alfie.
He made her feel things that she’d denied herself. Dare she risk opening her heart to him?
So, instead of thinking of the man seated close to her, she thought of her refrigerator and its contents. By the time they reached the little rental house, she had a dinner menu all figured out.
As soon as Alfie turned off the engine, Charlie jumped out of the truck, still full of energy despite the long afternoon.
“Go get cleaned up,” Marion told him as they entered the house. “Hands and face, please.”
“Okay!” Charlie darted down the hallway, his footsteps echoing through the small house.
In the kitchen, Marion set down her bag and turned to Alfie. “Coffee?”
“Please,” he said, setting the wine bottle carefully on the counter.
Marion busied herself with the coffeemaker while Alfie washed his hands at the sink. The domesticity of the moment wasn’t lost on her. How natural it felt to have him in her kitchen, moving around each other with easy familiarity.
She opened the refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients, bell peppers, zucchini, onions, garlic, and chicken breasts. When she turned around, Alfie had already found a cutting board and knife and was reaching for the vegetables.
“May I?” he asked.
Marion nodded, handing him the peppers. They worked in comfortable silence, Alfie chopping vegetables while Marion prepared the chicken and started boiling water for the pasta.
They moved around each other as if they’d done this a hundred times before, anticipating each other’s needs without having to ask.
When Alfie reached for the salt at the exact moment she was about to ask for it, Marion felt something shift inside her. A recognition that went beyond the physical attraction she’d been fighting since they met. This felt like something more. Something deeper.
As she watched him expertly dice an onion, his strong hands moving with surprising grace, Marion felt herself falling.
Not just for the idea of being in love, but for Alfie himself.
This man who talked to plants and made terrible puns and looked at her as if she were the most important thing in the world. Or, at least, his world.
“What?” Alfie asked, catching her staring.
Marion shook her head, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Nothing. Just...thank you for today. Charlie had a wonderful time.”
“So did I,” Alfie murmured. “So did I.”
Their eyes met over the cutting board, and for a moment, Marion allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, fairy tales could come true after all.