“I…wasn’t ready to be a father. I guess I never was.”
Catherine wondered if she’d misunderstood him. “You mean to say you never had children?”
“None,” he said. “Three wives, but not one of them was interested in a family. For that matter, neither was I.” He hesitated and his gaze skirted hers. “I was a selfish bastard when I left you. Unfortunately that hasn’t changed.”
She couldn’t confirm or deny his words, for she no longer knew him.
“Would you mind telling me about Edward?” he asked.
Catherine leaned back and sipped her coffee. “In many ways he’s very like you. The physical resemblance is there, anyway.”
Greg looked up and smiled faintly.
“He’s six-two and muscular.”
“How old? Thirty-four?”
“Thirty-five,” she told him. “His birthday was last month on the twenty-ninth.”
“Is he married?”
“Yes, and he has a son himself and another baby on the way. Next spring.”
Greg’s smile grew wider.
“He’s a doctor.”
“Really?” Greg seemed to have trouble believing it.
“My husband is, too.” Perhaps it was time to remind Greg who Edward’s father was. “Larry raised Edward, helped make him the kind of man he is. Larry’s his father.”
Greg shook his head. “I wouldn’t interfere in his life.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in—and then it occurred to her what he’d meant. “Are you asking to meet Edward?”
Greg didn’t respond for a long time. His face pale and intent, he finally said, “Yes. Could I?”
Four
Matthias Jamison enjoyed puttering around in his greenhouse before breakfast. The mornings—that was when he missed Mary the most. She’d been gone fifteen years now, and not a day passed that he didn’t think about the woman he’d loved for more than thirty years. Some men he’d known were quick to remarry after losing their wives. Not him. Mary had been the only woman for him, and no one else would ever fill the void left by her death.
The sunrise over the Cascade Mountains was glorious, the light creeping up over the horizon, then spilling across his western-Washington vineyard like the promise it was. The morning sun was a reassurance, the pledge of another day, another opportunity. Mary had been the one to teach him that, but he’d never fully appreciated her enthusiasm for mornings until it was too late. He wished he’d shared more sunrises with his beloved wife.
Their only grandson now suffered from the same rare form of leukemia that had claimed her prematurely. It looked as if Tanner, too, would die. Matthias’s jaw tensed and he closed his eyes. How could a loving God let an innocent child suffer like this?
What made an untenable situation even worse was the fact that his daughter bore the burden alone. Her ex had done nothing for her or the boy, making Matthias feel doubly responsible, but beyond phone calls and the occasional visit, there was little he could do to help her from where he lived.
The phone rang and Matthias hurried back to the house, hoping for good news. “Hello,” he answered in his usual gruff voice.
“It’s Harry.”
A longtime friend and vineyard owner from the Napa Valley. “A little early for you to be phoning, don’t you think?” Matthias couldn’t prevent his disappointment from showing. He’d been hoping it was his daughter, Gloria, on the phone. He sighed heavily. It damn near killed Matthias that he was as powerless to help the boy as he’d been with Mary.
“I’ve got news that’ll cheer you right up,” Harry said.
“I could use some good news.”
“It’s about Greg Bennett.”
Matthias stiffened at the sound of the name. He hated Greg Bennett with an intensity that had grown through the years. Bennett owed him. The success of the winery was largely due to Matthias’s guiding hand. If it hadn’t been for him, especially in those early years, Greg would have lost the vineyard ten times over.
The younger of the two Bennett boys had shown a talent for the business, but Matthias had been the one to teach him about grapes, about wine making, about operating an estate winery. Greg’s father, John Bennett, had lived for the vineyard, to the point that it had destroyed his marriage. But he’d been impatient with the boy, an ineffective teacher.
A few years after Greg had joined Bennett Wines, John had died, and Greg had taken over. From that point on, Matthias had advised Greg, guided him and helped him expand enough to buy out his brother’s share. Matthias had treated Greg as he would have treated his own son, if he’d had one. He’d shared everything with Greg Bennett, his skills and ideas, his enthusiasm for viticulture and wine making, his friendship. That was what made the betrayal so painful, so devastating. Mary’s illness was an almost intolerable blow, but Greg’s refusal to help them—that had been, in a way, an even greater blow.
Mary had loved Greg, too. Many nights she’d insisted Greg join them for dinner. She’d opened her home and her heart to Greg, and when she needed him, he’d said no. Neither bonds of family nor friendship, neither obligation nor gratitude, had influenced his decision.
“What about Greg?” Matthias asked now.
“He was in San Francisco looking for a loan.”
So Greg’s vineyard had been hit by fan leaf disease. Matthias had suspected as much, but hadn’t heard. “Did he get one?”
Harry paused for effect. “Not a dime.”
“Good.”