Two hours. She sat and ate and silently fumed while she gave Benito the floor. Oh, the Italian was smooth, that’s for sure. With his Powerpoint and charts and tables and statistics looking all flashy and convincing. He even researched her town, name-dropping people like Hope Windward, Lily Novak, Thomas Boon, and Willie Richmond, granted she’d introduced him to Willie.
Sort of. The others were business owners who would also benefit from Coastal Vines expanding, or so Ben promised.
He’d drawn up a design on his fancy laptop, completely demolishing the integrity of their barn and tasting room, turning it into a state-of-the art winery. Everything was computerized, making less work for Alexis and her parents. Supposedly.
She could practically feel Grumpy rolling over in his grave.
What Ben didn’t mention was what the commercialism would do to their property, their label. And the business they’d lose during construction.
“I can’t believe you want to turn my apartment into a party hall.” Alexis pushed back her stool and went behind the counter to pour herself a glass of water. She stayed behind the counter, using it as a barrier, and poured three more glasses, not wanting to waste any of their wine on the evil spawn of corporate America.
“I’d like to take a look at the inside to be sure it would work. I like how the ground slopes so the upstairs is level in the front while the tasting room back here is ground level as well. You avoid stairs and having to make everything handicap accessible. The space could be rented out for corporate functions, weddings, reunions. You name it. It would bring in a lot of business for your winery, during the function and after.”
“Meanwhile, I’ll live on the side of the road, and our fields will be taken over by cars and strangers, partying their drunk asses through our vines and crops.”
“Alexis, keep an open mind.” Her father stood and carried his wine glass with him. “I’d like to see an estimate of what it will cost to turn it into a function hall. I’ll show you upstairs.”
“That would be great. Mind if I take pictures to send to the builder?” Ben slid his phone from his pocket and followed her father.
“Sure.”
“No! You’re not going into my apartment and taking pictures.” Alexis blocked the doorway, not allowing Ben to get by. Instead of growling at the imposter, Hemmy wagged his tail and led the way. So much for having a watchdog.
“He won’t be looking at your things, Alexis. He’ll be taking pictures of the space,” her mother chided.
“My things are in the space. You’re not going up there.”
Instead of being annoyed, the irritatingly adorable dimple sunk into his cheek as his lip quirked higher and higher. Ben leaned forward and spoke softly so only she could hear. “Did you leave your bra and panties hanging off the shower rod?”
“I don’t wear panties,” she growled. Ben straightened and gasped, his eyes darkening to a midnight blue. “That’s not what I…” Nah, better to see him sweat and think she was commando than to tell him she wore unflattering cotton underwear. No sexy lingerie in her drawers. What was the use when no one would see? And she wasn’t worried about underwear lines showing in her baggy jeans.
Ben licked his lips and her flesh prickled as his gaze traveled south, stopping near her crotch. She’d never inspired this kind of reaction out of a man before. Alexis wasn’t shy and often quipped inappropriate jokes, sometimes even sexual, with the guys. They’d laugh and flirt innocently with her, but no one ever raked his eyes down her body or got her insides to quiver in lust.
“Permesso?”
Oh, the accent and the Italian. She curled her lip and sneered at him. “Fine. Take your stupid pictures. But you’re not tearing down my apartment to build a party hall.”
“A function hall.”
“Tomato, to-mat-o.”
“Nobody says to-mat-o.”
“Nobody says, permesso.”
“Maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong people.” Ben winked as he slipped past her, his arm brushing against her over-sensitized chest.
She cursed him under her breath and swore louder when his tight, round, perfect backside remained eye-level as she followed him up the stairs. Since when did she start fantasizing about taking a bite out of a guy’s ass?
When they reached her apartment, she remembered why they were there, and why she hated Benito. He ran his hand along the wall and knocked on it at random places as he paced the perimeter.
“It isn’t much, but Alexis likes her privacy. We added plumbing, for obvious reasons. The bathroom is on the other side of the kitchenette, and the bedroom in the back corner.” Her father showed Ben to the bedroom while she and her mother stayed in the open space.
“Sweetheart, you’re being rude to Ben. He’s been nothing but gracious volunteering his time to put together a proposal.”
“Volunteering? You hired the guy to—”
“No, he offered to come out and take a look. To put together a business plan for us at no cost. He’s not making any money off us whether we choose to move forward with all of his plan or part of it.”
“Or none of it.” Alexis crossed her arms and leaned against the refrigerator. “So he flew out here on his own dime out of the goodness of his heart? That’s bullshit. He wants something.”
“Alexis Marie.”
“I don’t buy it.” There was something the Italian was keeping from her. And she had a funny feeling her father and mother were in on it as well. Her mother avoided her questioning eyes, confirming Alexis’s assumption. If her parents were thinking of selling…
Not wanting to have a family talk in front of Ben, she’d let it go for now. But as soon as he left, she’d make her parents come clean.
“The walls seem solid. What’s on the other side?” Ben ignored her as he crossed the living room and peered up at the ceiling.
“Alexis said she didn’t need much space so we only finished off a third of the space. It saves on energy costs as well.” Her father and Hemmy followed Ben around like…like a freaking dog in heat.
“Any idea how many square feet in all?”
“’Bout two thousand downstairs. I’d say the same up here.”
“That’s a nice sized space. Not too large, not too small.”
“Okay, Goldilocks. You done up here?” Alexis didn’t like the intimacy of him in her apartment. He looked too good standing in front of her sofas that matched the blue in his eyes. If he sat down and made himself at home, her ovaries would combust and she’d hate herself more than him.
Why did the villains always have to be so good looking?
“I’ll show you the operation we have going on. It’s nothing like what you have at Martevino, but I think you’ll be impressed.” Her father opened the door and motioned for Ben to go down the stairs first.
Alexis stayed upstairs for a few extra minutes to compose herself. She’d never been so…snippy. So…bitchy before. By the quizzical looks her mother had been giving her, she must have figured out something was off, or going on, between her and Ben. Alexis needed to cool it and pretend he was just a hired salesman coming in to do a pitch.
A few more probing questions to make it seem like she was considering his plan, and she’d be rid of him. For good. She finished her pout and went downstairs to join the crew. She stayed quiet while her father rattled on about their barrels and new labeling system, a recent upgrade Alexis had to be coerced into approving. Not that her parents needed her approval.
Technology was taking over, changing people.
Friends. Sisters. A heaviness weighted down her chest when she thought of her sister. She missed her. The old Grace. The new one was unapproachable, and Alexis wanted her sister back. Modernism and the latest trends stole her sister away.
She wouldn’t let it steal Coastal Vines as well.
They returned to the bar in the tasting room and Alexis took out a notebook from a nearby drawer.
“I have questions.”
“I’d hope you all would. Again, this is just a preliminary plan. Without having seen your building, the grounds, and even the town, I had to go by what I found online, and what Shane and Claudia have told me.”
“Yeah, anyway.” Alexis waved his comment away and instantly regretted her attitude. If she wanted to appear professional and open-minded, this was not the way. She needed to show her father that she’d taken Benito’s plan into serious consideration. And then reject it. So an open mind she’d pretend to have.
“Your suggestion to offer signature wines, introducing one or two new labels a year? Easy to suggest, but we’re limited with our research team here. If business is going to boom, as you claim, when are we going to come up with new recipes? What makes us unique is we’re one of the few wineries in Maine that uses only the grapes grown in their vineyard. Most places use grapes shipped from other parts of the country, or Europe. Even Australia. Don’t even think about suggesting we use…” Alexis over-exaggerated a shiver. “Italian grapes.”
There was nothing wrong with Italian grapes. It was the Italian people—person—in her life that she had a problem with.
Ben didn’t hide his amusement, his lips quirking once again. “I have some ideas for you.”
“That’s lovely, Mr. Martelli, but this is a family run winery and we develop our own recipes.”
“I’m simply suggesting teaming up with neighboring farms. The blueberry farm and apple orchard across the road. A beekeeper. Your own berries. Claudia.” He focused his attention on Alexis’s mom. “You said you plant rhubarb in the spring. I’ve heard winemakers using all sorts of fruits and vegetables in their wines nowadays. Use Maine, especially Crystal Cove, as your resource, and you’ll see what cross promotion can do for you.”
“We do cross promote. Our wine can be found in just about every local business,” Alexis reminded him.
“That’s great for you. What are you doing for them?”
She narrowed her eyes at Ben and bit her tongue. She had no response. Shit. Her throat grew thick and a bead of sweat worked its way down her spine. She’d never thought of it that way before. Maybe that’s why she had so few friends? Being a selfish business owner had never been her intent. Hell, being selfish wasn’t in her nature. That was her sister’s role.
“That’s a good point, Ben. We donate to raffles and give gifts of wine, but we don’t do much to promote other businesses. I like this idea.” Her father tapped his finger to his lips, deep in thought. Dollar signs running through his head, most likely.
“And your function hall can do the same. You can suggest area caterers, florists, musicians to brides and other events you hold. It’s where everyone in the community comes together to showcase their talents, in a way. You could even host craft fairs or bake offs, if that’s your town’s thing.”
“People drive through Crystal Cove to see the ocean, not trees and grapes,” Alexis scoffed, needing to end the meeting and send Benito packing.
“Then change that.”
Oh, the Italian looked smug and confident. Mr. Big and Rich from a fancy California town, heir to a thousand acre vineyard, thinking he knew it all. Pointing out Alexis’s selfishness and acting all smug.
“Let’s talk construction. Hypothetically.” Alexis scribbled in her notebook.
“Of course.”
“What would you estimate the cost to be to renovate my apartment into a function hall?” Stop the snark! Stop the snark!
“I’m not a contractor—”
“I know.”
Her mother sighed in frustration. The amused smile on her father’s face as he filled their glasses with more wine, showed he enjoyed the banter between Alexis and Ben.
“—but I did spend a few years working for a construction company.”
“Of course you did,” Alexis mumbled under breath.
Ben smiled. “I can have some figures for you soon. I’ll run the specs by some contractors. I’ve been in contact with Parker Construction. The father and son team sound competent.”
Of course they were. She went to school with Ty, and his father, Wade, was as sweet as they came. The Parkers had roots in town. Celeste ran Books by the Ocean, while her husband and son were reputable contractors. Mia was Grace’s age, and as far as Alexis knew, was just as flighty.
At least she stayed around town and didn’t traipse off to Europe to sow her wild oats looking to make it rich. Money. The root of all evil. Alexis tamped down her anger toward her sister, not wanting it to interfere with the business at hand.
“And what kind of money do you think this hall will bring in?” Alexis tapped her pen against the pad of paper.
“I looked at the going rate for function halls in the area. They’re nonexistent. The closest one is twenty-five miles from here, and they range from five hundred to two thousand dollars. It really depends what comes with the hall. Do they need to rent tables and chairs, or do you provide them? How many people can it hold? Things like that. There are no rules. You can decide what you want to offer.”
“Five hundred dollars for an empty room?”
“Minimum.”
“That’s a rip off.”
“Ever plan a wedding?” Alexis cocked her head and shook it slowly. “Someday you will, and you’ll be grateful to find a place so cheap.”
“Then you’re saying we should charge more?”
“I’m saying it’s completely up to you. You could set up price packages. Maybe a cheaper rate when they buy X number bottles of wine. Something like that. You could offer a special label for the bride and groom. Or unveil a new wine to partygoers before it’s available to the general public.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Ben. To have happy brides and family functions at our winery? I can picture it now. Maybe a gazebo out in the field by the rock walls for pictures.” Claudia beamed, a wistful glint in her eyes.
Alexis scowled. “Parking. Think of the cars. Where are the thousands of people who come to party and get drunk and trash the place going to park?” She couldn’t let her mother get carried away too soon.
“Your space isn’t big enough to attract thousands. Maybe a hundred, tops. You figure that’s about fifty cars. Shane, you own fifty acres, but only five are harvesting grapes, correct?”
“Yeah. Another half-acre for some blueberry and raspberry bushes. The rest of the land isn’t good for growing.”
“But good enough for parking,” Ben added.
“Great. Twenty acres of parking. That’s attractive.” Alexis returned her attention to her notebook, pretending to write down notes.
“We’d keep it to gravel and crushed rock, like you already have. Landscape it. Maybe have two or three small lots, outlined with rock walls and flowering bushes. A water feature or two to break it up.”
“Oh, Ben, you’re a genius.” Her mother nearly swooned.
“This is ridiculous.” Alexis shot up from her stool and rounded the bar. Deja` vu from only an hour ago. “It all sounds great, Mr. Martelli, but you’re forgetting about one important factor. The most important.” She paused for dramatic effect. The Italian testosterone in the room was turning her into a girl. “Money. Until I see hardcore numbers, I’m not convinced. We could invest hundreds of thousands into your fancy shmancy plan and only get a couple hundred on our return. This is all theory and wishful thinking. I want real data and facts. Get that for me, Mr. Martelli, and then maybe we’ll talk.”
Alexis kept her hands firmly on her hips as she watched Ben pack up his briefcase. He reached out his hand to her parents, which they shook apologetically. “I appreciate your time, Shane and Claudia. Please call or email me with any more questions or things you’d like me to look up. I’ll be in the area for a few more days.”
Ben approached Alexis like a panther to his prey. “And Alexis, lovely seeing you again. You’re right. Hard numbers are important. I’ll work on these as soon as I get back to the inn.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear and she stiffened. “Don’t forget our dinner date.”
“Not on your life,” she hissed.
“It’s the highlight of your day, remember? I’ll pick you up at six.” His breath kissed her ear, and then he was gone, the cold, raw air chilling her bones in his wake.
And her temper and lust boiling her blood.
He’d been an ass not to come clean last night or this morning, but it was fun tormenting Alexis this afternoon. Ben enjoyed her parents, and even Alexis’s mild temper. It was nothing compared to his sister’s. He’d known ahead of time that Alexis was not in favor of expanding. However, there weren’t many ways to increase income without expanding in some capacity.
When Shane gave him access to Coastal Vines’ financial records, Ben cringed. Shane was right to be worried about the winery’s success. They hadn’t increased their net profit in five years, even though tourism in and around Crystal Cove had been on the rise.
And Alexis was right to worry about investing on an inland piece of property in the coastal town. Tourists, and even locals, didn’t come to the quaint cove to drive through the wilderness. Even though the winery was only one mile inland, to out of state folks who’d already trekked three hours north of the Maine-New Hampshire border, a mile seemed like eternity.
They’d drive the additional hour and a half along route one to Bar Harbor, but a mile inland, through winding roads with no known landmarks along the way…not attractive. It was Ben’s job to make it attractive. And he’d need the town’s help to do so.
Not that it was his job job. His parents didn’t ask for much, but set the bar high for all the Martelli siblings. Between needing to distance himself from the trouble he left in California, and the desire to please his parents, he took on this…project as not only a favor to them, but to himself as well.
And frankly, he found he enjoyed it. Even though his business kept him busy, he still went to the family vineyard every weekend to help out in the fields, in the bottling plant, pouring samples. He liked keeping a hand in the business.
He missed it. The dirt. The physical labor. And being in Crystal Cove, meeting the townspeople, researching the local area, made him miss getting his hands dirty on more than just numbers and a computer screen.
He missed driving through small towns, down dirt roads that led to nowhere in particular.
Today, he’d taken Bayberry Road to the winery, and tomorrow he’d continue down the road to see what else was out there. In the meantime, he took a mental note of the maple trees and what he assumed to be sugar shacks behind some of the homes. March, if he remembered correctly, was when the sap ran.
While researching New England wines, he’d come across a winery in New Hampshire that made a maple apple wine. The winery was four hours south of here, so Coastal Vines could corner the market on this classic New England flavor up here in central Maine.
The sign indicating an alpaca farm hung loose from its chain near a rusted mailbox, and Ben wasn’t sure the farm was still a thing, or more for nostalgia. Again, he noted the possibilities along the road. A large white mailbox read Coastal Art and Snyder underneath.
Ben’s marketing and creative side stirred up the realm of possibilities. Expanding the winery would do wonders for the people in the sleepy town. Soon tourists would be bypassing the summer crowds of the usual congested tourist traps to see all Crystal Cove has to offer.
Excited about how his plan was coming together, Ben sped up to get to the inn. Ah, the inn. It was quaint as well. Could use a new coat of paint or two. He’d have to ask about their summer bookings. As far as he could tell, he was the only one staying in the fifteen-room inn. The innkeepers were a lovely couple, John and Melissa Miller, if he remembered correctly. And he usually did.
They’d be interested in increasing their guest list as well, he was sure. Once he parked his SUV, he reached around to the backseat for his briefcase and hurried up the front steps.
“You must be missing the warmth of California right about now.” John chuckled, greeting him in the foyer. “Bet you don’t have winters like this where you’re from. Although we haven’t hit our cold snap yet.”
“Not quite.” Ben unbuttoned his jacket and nodded toward John’s coffee. “Have any more of that in the kitchen?”
“Sure thing. Melissa drinks it all day long. Don’t know how she falls asleep at night. But she does. Come back into the kitchen and I’ll rustle up some food as well.”
“Thank you, but I’m still full from lunch.”
“Ah, yes, you went up to Shane and Claudia’s.” John poured the coffee in an oversized pottery mug with a red lobster on the front and handed it to Ben.
In a small town, he supposed there were few secrets. “Thank you.” Ben blew on the steamy liquid and sipped. “I take it January is a fairly slow month around here.”
“Yeah. Mostly. A few romantics come up for a weekend getaway. Order a lobster dinner at The Happy Clam. Other than that we rest up for the summer people.”
“I noticed a couple other inns and motels in the area, but you’re the only one open year round.”
“Why not?” John shrugged. “Missy and I are here, might as well take in travelers, or those who want to get away, and put a few dollars in our pocket at the same time.”
“You like the slow pace around here?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re close enough to Rockland if we need some action, but even that town closes up to some degree in the winter. Portland ain’t too far away. S’not like we’re up country, or out by the Allagash.”
“I suppose you know why I met with the Le Blancs today.” He didn’t want to give away his hand, and John was an open book. Might as well see what the man knew.
“I knew some wine guy from Cali-forn-i-a was going to be visiting. When you reserved your room I figured you were him. Don’t know what you guys were meeting about though. None of my business, really. They like to talk grapes. They get their vines delivered from some college facility in Minnesota. Strangest thing. Who would think you could do that? I suppose you’re sending some of your vines from Cali-forn-i-a.”
From what he’d read, most of the varieties his family grew wouldn’t survive one winter in the east. But he doubted John wanted to hear about the idiosyncrasies of winemaking.
“We’re talking about the business is all.”
“Their daughter Al is a workhorse. She lives and breathes those grapes. For a time back in their high school days I thought my Brandon and Al would be a thing. Married and giving us grandchildren by now.”
A jealous ache cramped in his side and he put his mug down before he spilled it. “Brandon?”
“My son.” Yeah, Ben figured that much. “He and Alexis were close as peanut butter and jelly growing up. He was the quarterback and she was the star running back. Don’t know why she quit the game after eight years. Best set of legs at Crystal Cove High.”
Ben choked and was glad he hadn’t been sipping his coffee.
John startled, and then realization took over his face. “Heck, I didn’t mean it that way. The girl was fast, especially for a little one. We were sorry to lose her. She ran cross-country her senior year in high school. Broke all sorts of records.”
“She and Brandon dated?”
“Nah. Close friends. They all were. Good group of kids. Some stuck around, others went off to college and moved south of Portland.”
“Where’s your son now?” He asked, needing to know if Brandon was still a threat.
Threat? Hell, he wouldn’t be in town long and wasn’t looking to make any sort of commitment.
“Finished up medical school down in Boston a few years ago and is practicing in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.”
“You must be very proud.”
“Damn straight. A doctor, straight out of Crystal Cove. Who would’ve thought?”
Ben noticed the time on the oven clock and reached for his mug. “Mind if I take this to my room? I have some work to do before dinner.”
“Sure thing. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen as well.”
“Thank you, John.”
“My pleasure. Just holler if you need anything.”
“Actually.” He adjusted his briefcase strap and shuffled his feet, hoping John wouldn’t pry. “Do you have any restaurant suggestions? Somewhere outside of town? Quiet setting?”
John scratched his face and held up a finger. “The Sealand. Seafood, steak, salad. Something for everyone.” He rattled off an address and Ben thanked him before turning to go upstairs.
Once in his room, he looked up the restaurant and its address, and deeming it perfect, set to work on the Coastal Vines plan. It was turning out to be so much more than a small winery expansion.
Much, much more.