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CELIA

The final course was already plated when my mother-in-law found me in the kitchen. We couldn’t have looked more different if we tried, with her in silk and pearls and me in my loose-fitting pants and chef’s coat.

She stopped in the doorway without a hint of a smile on her perfectly made-up face. “They’re asking about dessert.”

I finished wiping down the edge of the last plate. “It’s ready.”

“Good.” Her gaze swept over the kitchen that had been my domain since I married her son. “Please bring this course out yourself. Richard Thornton mentioned he wanted to meet the chef, and we need to impress him tonight.”

“I’d be happy to.”

She returned to the tasting room without another word, and I heaved a deep sigh before picking up two plates.

“Want me to help serve too?” Susan asked.

I flashed my sous chef a grateful smile. “Thank you, but no. I’ve got this.”

“Damn straight you do.” She jerked her chin toward the door. “Even if the lady of the vineyard doesn’t realize it.”

A soft laugh bubbled out. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

Susan rolled her eyes, but she pressed her lips into a flat line when the servers came in. They carried the remaining plates out, and I followed them into the tasting room.

Harrison stood at the head of the long table with a bottle of Syrah. The label carried his family name, the one I’d taken when we got married nine years ago. Not that any of the guests would know it since he didn’t even bother to meet my eyes as I walked into the room.

I set my plates in front of Richard Thornton and his wife. She looked down at her dessert, then twisted in her seat to smile up at me. “Dark chocolate lava cake with a red wine raspberry coulis?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Her eyes lit up, but she didn’t get the chance to explain why she was so excited about the cake before Harrison murmured, “It’s the perfect pairing with our Syrah.”

Mr. Thornton shot him a look that he completely missed, and his wife’s smile widened. “How on earth did you know?”

“I was in the kitchen at Providence when you celebrated your tenth anniversary,” I explained.

“And you remembered a small detail like that after all this time?” She reached out to pat my hand. “Thank you.”

“Now I understand why the meal was so incredible.” Mr. Thornton dipped his chin in approval before turning toward Harrison. “You have a talented chef in your kitchen.”

“The vineyard’s always been lucky.” My father-in-law reached for the bottle in his son’s hand. “Which is why our wine sells itself.”

I quietly excused myself, and Mrs. Thornton’s gaze following me to the door was the only acknowledgment I got on the way out. But I didn’t have time to sulk over it because the kitchen needed to be cleaned.

Servers scraped plates, and Susan stood at the sink with her sleeves shoved past her elbows. “They like the dessert?”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned. “Good.”

We didn’t talk much after that. My shoulders ached when we were done, but I was used to it.

Harrison came in when the last rack of dishes was already going. His jacket was off, his tie was loose, and his smile was genuine. “Thornton wants a custom barrel. The Syrah we poured with dessert.”

I understood why he was so happy. Tonight’s dinner had already garnered him a forty-thousand-dollar sale.

“He asked about buying out the property,” Harrison added. “A whole weekend with an unlimited budget for a gala his wife is planning.”