“We’re worried about you.”
“Because I’m drinking wine in the middle of the day? I swear, it doesn’t usually happen. Most of the time I’m too busy to stop for lunch, which isn’t anything I ever thought I would say. Unfortunately with the Grands’ cooking being as fattening as it is, skipping a meal once in a while doesn’t work as a weight-loss plan.” She patted her stomach. “I guess I’m going to have to seriously think about portion control.”
Her two sisters exchanged a knowing glance. Brenna sighed in exasperation. “I hate it when you talk about me behind my back.”
“We didn’t,” Katie said defensively, but as she spoke she tugged on a strand of her reddish-brown hair and bit her lower lip-sure signs that she was lying.
Francesca shrugged. “We’re just a little concerned.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re getting married.”
Brenna took a sip of the 1999 Cab; ’98 had been a crappy year for California wines, but ’99 had been better. She eyed the cookies and thought about grabbing one, but maybe she should wait until she got things settled with her sisters.
“Amazingly enough, your pending nuptials don’t exactly impact my day,” she said. “We’ll be harvesting the Chardonnay grapes any day now, so I’m going to be too busy for the sewing marathon everyone is about to embark upon. But I’ll be there in spirit.”
“It’s not about the dress,” Katie said, then glanced at Francesca. “You tell her.”
Francesca sipped her wine, then sighed. “We don’t want your feelings to be hurt.”
While she appreciated that they worried about her, she still had no idea what they were talking about. “Are you telling me you don’t want me at your wedding?”
“Of course not,” they said in unison.
“Then how could you hurt my feelings?”
“You’re not seeing anyone.”
They weren’t making any sense. Brenna gave up on self-control and grabbed a cookie. “If the concern is I’ll be depressed because I’m dateless, I swear I’ll be fine.” Right now a man was the last thing on her mind. Well, unless he had a million dollars to loan her. Then she was intensely interested.
Katie shook her head. “Francesca, this isn’t the time for delicate psycho-speak. Just blurt it out.” But rather than wait for her sister, Katie continued. “Francesca and I are worried that you’ll be upset because we’ve finally found great guys and that bastard you were married to is getting married to someone else and you’re all caught up in the winery and what if our long-lost brother really does claim it, and without the winery, you don’t have a life and we’re afraid our happiness is going to depress you.” She paused to suck in a breath.
Brenna took a bite of her cookie and chewed. “Impressive lung control,” she mumbled over the crumbs, then swallowed. “I’m fine.”
Neither sister looked convinced. Brenna glanced between them. The Marcelli daughters were a perfect blend of their Italian-Irish heritage. Katie was mostly Irish with pale skin and reddish-brown hair. Francesca had the thick, dark hair from the Marcelli side of the family, but had also inherited hazel eyes and a tall, thin body from the O’Sheas. Brenna was pure Italian-dark hair, brown eyes, plenty of curves.
Which left Mia. Brenna smiled as she thought of her baby sister’s bleached hair and high drama makeup. Mia had never met a tube of mascara she didn’t like. But then, Mia had always been just herself.
Her sisters had been her best friends all their lives. No matter what else happened, she knew they would be there for her, as they always had been.
“This is your time,” she told Katie and Francesca. “You don’t need to worry about me. I swear, everything is great. More than great.”
They didn’t look convinced. Well, poop. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone about her plans until things were settled, but maybe they would sleep better at night if they knew she wasn’t about to drown her sorrows in a case of Marcelli sparkling wine.
Francesca’s gaze narrowed. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“A lot.”
Brenna set her wineglass on the nightstand and stood up. She walked to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and began to change her clothes.
As she reached for the button on the waistband of her skirt, she said, “I went to see Nic Giovanni about a loan. I think he’s going to say yes.”
After smoothing her shoulder-length hair, she turned back to find her two sisters staring at her. The combination of open mouths and wide eyes was pretty funny.
“No way,” Francesca breathed. “You did not go to Nic for a loan, did you? You’re really doing this? You’re starting your own label?”
Katie clutched her wine in both hands. “How much did you ask for? Not the amount you said before because that was-”
“A million dollars,” Brenna said cheerfully as she pulled on her jeans. “Or seven figures, as they say on the street.”
“No way!”
Francesca sounded horrified. Katie mumbled something Brenna couldn’t hear, which was probably for the best. Her business-minded sister would get caught up in payment schedules and the disaster of what would happen if Brenna failed. Something she wasn’t going to let happen.
She hung up her suit, then plopped back on the bed. “I didn’t decide to go to Nic on a whim. I’ve run out of options. I can’t get a bank loan. Not without Grandpa Lorenzo giving his support. Everyone I talked to assumed that if he wasn’t behind me, it must be because I’m a bad risk. Even as a good risk, I’d have a tough time. There isn’t any collateral. I mean, I’m going to buy those four acres I want, so that would help, but I don’t have a penny of my own to put down. It’s not as if Jeff and I had any assets to split during the divorce.”
Her sisters looked stunned and slightly panicked.
“What about the settlement money?” Francesca asked.
“Not even close to enough.”
Brenna thought about the monthly payments her soon-to-be-ex husband would be sending. While the income would be nice, being reimbursed for putting his ungrateful ass through medical school didn’t come close to the cost of starting a new label. If Nic came through-she crossed index and middle fingers on her left hand-Jeff’s payments would barely cover the interest on her million-dollar loan.
“It’s going to work out great,” she promised.
“Nic Giovanni,” Katie breathed. “You just went to him and asked for the loan? But you don’t even know him. What makes you think he’ll say yes?”
Brenna picked up her wine and cleared her throat. “He likes to take risks. He gave some other winery start-up money a few years ago. I read about it and remembered.”
As for not knowing Nic…well, that wasn’t exactly true. Ten years ago she’d known everything about Nic. Not that she’d ever told her sisters. Loving him had been her only secret. One she’d held close to her heart.
At first she hadn’t told anyone because she’d assumed he wouldn’t stay interested in her for very long. Then she hadn’t told because keeping their relationship a secret had made it seem more special. And when it had ended, she’d been too ashamed by what she’d done to say anything.
“Start-up money is a world of difference from a million dollars,” Francesca said. “What if it doesn’t work? What if something bad happens?”
Brenna shrugged. “Then I fall on my butt.”
“Owing a million dollars.”
“I don’t care. I have to try. You’re right-I may fail, but I think it’s unlikely. But if it does, I’ll be okay. Even if Grandpa Lorenzo sells the winery, or leaves it to our long-lost brother, he’ll still settle cash on each of us. It probably won’t be a million dollars, but it will go a long way toward paying off my debt.”
“So wait,” Katie said. “Wait and use that money when you get it.”
Brenna shook her head. “This is the right time. I can feel it. Besides, there are four acres I want to buy, and they won’t stay on the market forever. There’s a crop of Pinot Noir grapes with my name on them, some Chardonnay grapes. I have an idea for a fabulous cuvee. My life has been on hold for the past ten years. I’m not
