Page 78 of Sweet Escape

And maybe that’s me being biased because it belongs to the family of one of my closest friends. Or because the man I’m sleeping with lives, sleeps, and breathes this land.

Both of those are true, but I think it’s more than that.

I think it’s just one of those places that resonates with a creative soul.

I know the hard work that goes into cultivating something, working it over until it becomes that perfect creation that you’ve envisioned.And I understand the sense of accomplishment once that creation becomes a reality.

I don’t doubt that the Hawthornes feel that way every season, once they’ve gotten through the harvest and are able to revel in the work they’ve accomplished.

“All right, ready?”

I turn, spotting Micah holding a manila folder and a notebook, and I nod.

“So, what’s the deal with Memphis?” I ask as we begin a moseying walk down the path that leads back to the main house.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with your question,” he says, laughing. “There are many layers to my brother. I need to know which one you’re looking to reveal.”

“Okay ... What makes him happy?”

Micah stops, and I stop, too. He looks at me with a curious expression, but then he shakes his head and starts walking again.

“To be honest? I’m not really sure. For a long time, I would have told you that working the vineyard makes him happy. He loves this place.” Micah pauses his description of Memphis for a beat, seeming to be looking for the right words. “But now, I’m not so sure.”

“Does he do anything other than work? Because he talks about this place like it’s the only thing he does with his time.”

“Not really. He tell you anything about what’s been going on?”

I shake my head.

“I won’t get too deep into it, but Memphis is basically fighting to keep our doors open right now.”

My head jerks back in surprise. “What?”

“I don’t think he realizes how much I know, but the truth is that my grandfather was a great owner, but my dad wasn’t really into it, so when things fell to him, he struggled. And now Memphis is dealing with the fallout.”

Sadness ripples through me.

No wonder he’s been so adamant about needing to be at work.

He’s desperate to keep this place running. And it’s more than just his own livelihood at stake. It’s the livelihood of his entire family.

The conversation we had about him being worried to take over the responsibilities and the weight of the vineyard ... now I understand it with a clarity that I didn’t have before.

“I’m sorry you guys are facing all of that,” I finally say.

Micah gives me a soft look. “We’ll make it through,” he tells me, a quiet confidence in his tone. “My brother has his faults just as much as the next guy, but when he cares about something, there’s no lengths he won’t go to. He’s the most hardworking person I know, and if there’s a way to sort things—which I don’t doubt there is—he’ll find a way.”

We’re silent for a few minutes, the only sounds the mulch crunching beneath our feet and the gentle hum of machines in the distance.

Then Micah speaks again.

“I’ll give you this much, though. You asked what makes him happy? I’ve seen him smile more in the past two weeks than I’ve seen in the past two years.” He shrugs. “Take from that what you will.”

A little part of me thrills at Micah’s words.

When we finally get to the house, Micah leads me inside and down a long hallway. Tucked away in a corner is a large office where Memphis is seated behind a big wooden desk, his eyes narrowed as he stares at something on his computer screen.

“Got the reports from yesterday,” Micah says, crossing the room and dropping the folder on the desk in front of Memphis. “I think you’ll be pleased.”

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