“I like how you’re thinking, Gina. This all sounds real interesting.” He tried to imagine it. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a waste of her time and energy. What if no one came out here? “It’s a lot of work though. You sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely. And it’s really fun work, Dad. I’ve dug out so many treasures to use. It’s going to be really cool. There’s this amazing old trunk just full of photos and memorabilia—stuff I can use for the tasting room and the website and even the anniversary celebration.”
“A trunk?” He rubbed his chin.
“Yeah. It’s so old, I’ll bet it came on the ship with our Italian ancestors. Anyway, the deeper I dug, the more I found. Like going through a time warp. It even had some of your stuff too.”
“My stuff?” He frowned, then recalled the antique trunk that used to sit next to the stairway when he was a kid. But what had he put in it?
“Yeah, I set your stuff aside for you.” She led him back to the stack of dusty furnishings and picked up a large manila envelope. “I’m pretty sure this belongs to you.” Her brows arched as she held it toward him.
He blinked and, fully aware of what was in the envelope, took it from her. “I thought I threw this stuff away.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I took a peek inside.” She peered curiously at him. “Who’s Brynna Meyers?”
“Brynna Meyers?” He slowly repeated the name, feeling an odd tightness in his chest. “Nobody, really. Just an old friend.”
“An oldgirlfriend?” She drew out the last word.
“Just a girl I met at camp a long time ago.” He peeked into the envelope to see that the letters and an old Kodak folder of snapshot photos were still there.
“Sounded like she was more than just a girl from camp, Dad.” Gina’s blue eyes twinkled with far too much interest. “Come on, tell me, who was she?”
He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just a girl from a summer camp that I attended after my senior year of high school. It was up in Oregon. On the coast. A really spectacular location.”
“Yeah, the background in the photos looked pretty.”
“Uh-huh.” Leroy hid his irritation. She’d obviously gone through all of it.
“Yeah. And that girl—the pretty brunette with the big blue eyes was in almost every photo—wasthatBrynna Meyers? Your girlfriend?”
He shrugged again. “Yeah. We had a little camp romance. Nothing more.” He peered at her. “Did youreadthe letters too?”
She glanced away, fiddling with a dog-eared stack of old sepia-toned photos, then barely nodded.
“You did?”
“Just one. Sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
He looked down at his boots. “It’s not.”
“Was she your first love?”
“Oh, Gina.” He tugged one of her pigtails. “You’re just a hopeless romantic.” Then, without giving her a chance to question him further, he slid the folder under his arm and turned to leave. “Keep up the good work in here.” He called out to his dog, who’d been lying in a shady spot by the barn, as he strode back out into the sunshine—as if on some official business, but really just trying to escape his nosy daughter.
As he continued toward the house with Babe at his heels, Leroy felt divided. On one hand, he was surprisingly eager to dig into the old envelope and study every bit of it ... but on the other hand he wished he’d tossed the whole thing decades ago. For the time being, this blast from his past would have to remain securely tucked in his master bedroom—safe from the snooping eyes of his overly curious daughter. And not just Gina either, since Sophie often took it upon herself to help with the housework. How she found the time was a mystery, but he knew how she poked around. Maybe even worse than Gina! Of course, Sophie did it in a nurturing sort of way, asking why he hadn’t taken his vitamins or worn the new socks she’d put in his drawer. Just like her mother.
Similar to Marcie, Sophie loved domesticity and organization. Apparently the double-wide she, her husband, Garth, and their two kids occupied over on the back slope of the vineyard wasn’t enough to keep her busy. She claimed housekeeping for her dadallowed her time in the old family home. Leroy knew that, like him, Sophie loved the serene view overlooking the vineyard. And she probably appreciated a bit of solitude and quietness in lieu of her normal routine of chasing two noisy youngins. Of course, she claimed the kids needed “daddy time” with Garth when she headed over to clean.
As he peeked in the kitchen, sadly overdue for Sophie’s touch, Leroy knew he should be grateful for his daughter’s help. His housekeeping was pretty slack—he’d become too good at ignoring dust and dog hair and clutter. And he hated doing laundry the “right” way. Who cared if his whites turned gray? Well, besides Sophie. Unless she was in the back of the house or upstairs, she didn’t appear to be around at the moment. That was good. He hadn’t liked Gina snooping into his past. He didn’t need Sophie sniffing around too.
Just to be safe, he tiptoed up the back staircase. He felt bad for being secretive with his girls. He had no doubts Gina had only his best interest at heart. His daughters had all been fiercely protective of him after their mother passed and news spread around that he was a bachelor. Within months, “well-meaning” matchmakers came crawling out of the woodwork. But the attempts at setting him up usually fell apart. Partly due to mismatches ... and even more so to the “loving” intervention of his devoted girls. They were a picky bunch! Eventually he quit trying. Dating was not for him. He had had enough on his plate raising his three girls and keeping the vineyard afloat. There’d been no room for romance. And bachelorhood agreed with him. How many guys could traipse through the house with muddy work boots and not get yelled at?
His master suite was quiet and undisturbed and, to his relief, still messy. Sophie must not have been here at all. Hopefully she wasn’t in the office either. He’d told her to stay home and put her feet up. Hopefully she was doing just that. Naturally, this was just one more reminder that he needed to start interviewing office managers. The sooner, the better.
He studied the thirty-year-old folder for a long moment, tempted to dump its contents onto his unmade bed and just stare ... and wonder. But, hearing a vehicle coming up the gravel driveway, he suspected the truckload of new vineyard workers had arrived. They would need his direction for getting started on the scorched south hill. So he opened the bottom bureau drawer and slid the envelope beneath a stack of old blue jeans. He knew he’d have to deal with the letters and photos later—maybe in a ceremonial fire. Because, really, he didn’t need the distractions of an old romance—and a broken heart—to haunt him again. He just didn’t have time for that right now.
Chapter 6
