Page 10 of Just Like This
Chapter Five
Garrett
Ispent the next weekworking comfortably alongside Oliver. We actually made a pretty good team. Some of my old teenage rebellions lost their steam, and I felt comfortable accepting responsibility for things I once avoided. Finally, I was able to admit that I wanted something just like this.
“Son, can I talk to you?” I looked up from behind the bar and saw my father standing the doorway of the tasting room. It was finally time to have the talk.
I excused myself from the customers I was helping and followed him across the yard to the main house. From the serious expression on my father’s face to the rigid way he walked, I knew that he expected me to tell him my plan. We walked up the wide-plank steps and through the front door. Dad led me down the hallway until we were in his office. He stayed silent as he rounded the massive desk and sat down, nodding at the two ancient wing-back chairs in front. I looked around at the dark wood paneling on the walls before sitting. Some things never changed, like this office.
“Garret, I’m getting old.” This was a huge confession for my dad. I had noticed over the past few days how slowly he moved in private because around his employees, he still had a spring in his step. “I want to retire.”
“I know,” I replied quietly.
“Then you know what I’m about to ask you.” His voice was stern, but there was an unexpected softness as if he was pleading with me to come home.
“Yes, I do.”
“But you still don’t have an answer for me?” His voice was harder, and it was nearly impossible for me to meet his eyes. The guilt I had buried after my mother’s death started to creep up through my veins. My dad slammed his fist down on the wooden desk, and I jumped unexpectedly. It had been years since I’d last faced my father’s anger.
“My current enlistment ends in one year, sir. My next deployment will be my last.”
“And then you’ll come back?”
I nodded silently. He seemed to relax against his chair, pleased with my response.
“But I won’t take the business away from Oliver.”
My dad’s mouth hardened to a thin line. “Then what do you want?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe manage the vineyard? I’ve always had a passion for the land, just like Mom.”
My father was quiet. Discussing my mother was unexpected and threw him off. But this was also the first time I’d ever shown a desire to be a part of Hammond Wines.
“Do what you need to do, Garrett, but when you’re done, I expect you to honor the commitment you just made.”
I didn’t have to say anything because the way we stared at each other silently was acknowledgment enough.
“I’m heading back to Gig Harbor in a few days,” I informed him.
My father merely grunted his response, and I knew that our conversation was over. He had gotten what he wanted from me. I left his office, pulled my cell phone free from my back pocket, and dialed Palmer.
“Hey, man. When are you coming back?” Palmer asked.
“Thursday afternoon. Tell your mom I’ll bring her another case of wine.”
“That’s great news. She’ll love that. I’ll arrange a big dinner and invite some people. Nikki called. She’s in town.”
I groaned. I really didn’t want to see Nikki. She was fun for a while, but beyond a day or two, she became impossible. But she was friends with Palmer too. “Geez, Palmer. I’m not really in the mood for parties. That’s one of the reasons why I skipped out on Vegas.”
Palmer laughed at my discomfort. “Fine, fine. Just a barbeque or something. I’ll ask Cami to make a pie. She makes amazing pies.”
We continued talking, but honestly, his words fell on deaf ears. Once he’d mentioned inviting Cami, I started picturing her wild curls and vibrant blue eyes; curves that would fit my hands perfectly. This would be the chance I needed to see if something was there beyond my own desire.
When I returned to the tasting room, it was packed, and Oliver was so slammed, he barely acknowledged my return. I stepped in immediately, assisting him with a few customers. During a lull in business, I spotted Tabitha and her little but growing baby bump clearing away empty glasses from the high-top tables scattered around the room. I walked out from behind the bar and over to her, taking the tray from her hands.
“Go sit down,” I told her softly. She opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand to silence her. “Or go and take a nap. I’m here, so feel free to take a break.”
“Thank you, Garrett,” she responded sweetly.
