The Prodigal Son

He lay down again and closed his eyes, shutting out the searching look Aidan was giving him. His brother’s unspoken questions. Matt knew what his family thought of him. How they perceived him. To them he was just a charming playboy—albeit one with a small amount of talent. Talent he used when he wasn’t busy white-water rafting, mountain climbing or seducing women.

All he did was give them what they wanted to see.

COWARD.

Connie slowly descended the stairs, the folder with her proposal bent in her clenched hand. So she’d chickened out. Who could blame her? She could hardly be expected to pitch a business deal to Aidan while Matt flirted with her.

Not that she took him seriously. He flirted with every female regardless of her looks or age. But him being there had thrown her.

And made her lose her nerve.

Crap.

It was probably for the best. This way she could take a few more days, look over her proposal. Make sure it was as good as it needed to be to convince Aidan to take her on as a partner.

As if tweaking the damn thing for the past eight weeks wasn’t enough.

She sighed. Yeah, she really was a coward.

In the foyer, she made a right turn, her steps slowing as the sound of her daughters’ laughter reached her.

She inhaled for the count of five then exhaled heavily before stepping into the kitchen. “Something smells good,” she said, forcing a smile.

“We’re making cinnamon rolls,” Abby said, not looking up from the dough Diane was helping her roll out.

“And look, Mommy.” Payton held up a metal bowl filled with what appeared to be brown sugar. “I made the filling all by myself. And I get to sprinkle it over the dough, too.”

Abby straightened. “I get to pour the melted butter over it, don’t I, Diane?”

Diane straightened and used a towel to wipe flour from Abby’s cheek. “You certainly do.”

Payton jumped off the stool and raced over to the refrigerator. “And did you see? Diane put our thank-you cards on the fridge.”

There, in the middle of the shiny stainless steel, held on by round magnets, were the handmade cards Payton and Abby had made to thank her for the Christmas gifts she’d given them.

“I put them there because all works of art should be displayed,” Diane said, stretching the dough by hand into a large rectangle.

Connie got a heavy red mug from the cupboard next to the refrigerator and filled it with coffee. She leaned back against the counter and watched Diane instruct Payton on how to sprinkle the brown sugar mixture over the dough.

“Is everything all right?” Diane asked her. “Is it your mom?”

Connie shook her head. “Everything’s fine. Mom’s fine. I spoke with her earlier and she sounded good.”

Diane patted her cheek. “I’m glad to hear it. But you know if you ever need me for anything, to take her to a doctor’s appointment or to watch the girls for you, you just let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.” A lump formed in Connie’s throat. She took a swallow of too-hot coffee to wash it away. “I just came from Aidan’s office and saw Matt there.”

“You make it sound like you just ran into the Loch Ness monster.”

“Well, it was a…rare sighting.” She frowned. “Come to think of it, I can’t remember seeing Matt up there since Tom died.”

“All my boys dealt with their father’s death in their own way,” she said, her voice taking on that note of grief, of longing it always did when she spoke of her deceased husband. “Aidan couldn’t bear to change anything in that office to keep the memories alive, while Matt avoided both the room and the feelings those memories evoked.”

“And Brady?”

“Brady went off to war, away from us all.” She crossed over to the stove and unwrapped a stick of butter before putting it in a small saucepan. “Who’s to say any of them were wrong?”

Well, Connie could say. After all, Brady and Matt had left Aidan and Diane when they needed them most. But, she thought with no little amount of pride, she’d been there. For them and for the Diamond Dust.

Finishing her coffee, she rinsed the cup in the sink. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Why don’t I bring the girls over to you after lunch?” Diane asked.

“That’s fine. I’ll be out in Pinot Noir block if you need me. You two behave,” she told her daughters.

“We will,” Abby assured her. “Bye, Mommy.”

Connie went out the back door. There was no way she was going to take the chance of running into Aidan or Matt again. It wasn’t until she was safely back in her office with the door shut that she realized she was still carrying the folder with her proposal.

She laid it on her neat desk. God, it was almost laughable. She’d spent half her life wanting nothing more than to be a part of the Diamond Dust, to be a member of the Sheppard family, and she was too scared to go for it.

For sixteen years she’d worked hard to prove her loyalty to both the family and the winery. To prove her worth. When Tom lost his battle with pancreatic cancer, she was the one who’d helped Aidan make the transition to winery president. Matt and Brady had both been long gone, but she’d stuck. And she’d busted her ass to keep the Diamond Dust going.

Connie snorted. Who knew? Maybe her mother had been right all this time. Maybe she really did need to stop wishing for things that weren’t going to happen. That weren’t meant to be.

She sat down, and after a moment, put the folder back in the bottom drawer.

“CAN’T YOU DO SOMETHING that will guarantee he’ll agree?” Diane asked Aidan later that day as they waited for Brady and Matt in her large kitchen.

“No problem.” Aidan sat at the table, tipped his head side to side in an effort to ease the tension tightening his muscles. “If Matt shows up, I’ll put him in a choke hold so you can point a gun to his head.”

Diane’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line. “I’m being serious, Aidan.”

He drummed his fingers where a shaft of sunlight hit the table through sliding glass doors that led to a bricked veranda. “We both know Matt will draw this out for as long as possible. You didn’t really think he’d go along with this idea willingly, did you? Or make it easy on any of us?”

“A mother can hope,” she murmured, wiping nonexistent crumbs from the granite kitchen counter with a dishcloth. She scrubbed at a spot by the stove. “Is it so wrong for me to want my sons, all three of my sons, working together?”

And that question was as loaded as the hypothetical gun Aidan had just mentioned. “What if one of those sons doesn’t want to be a part of the Diamond Dust?”

“Matt wants to be a part of it.” Crossing to the opposite wall, she wiped fingerprints from one of the double, stainless steel ovens. “He just doesn’t realize it yet. Just as Brady didn’t realize it until you convinced him.”

Convinced? Aidan rose and walked over to the fridge. Lily, who’d been napping in front of the large stone fireplace in the connecting family room, padded over to him, her nails clicking on the tile floor. He hadn’t convinced his brother to do anything, he thought as he got a can of soda. Nothing short of dynamite could move Brady once he’d set his mind to stay still. A trait all the Sheppards shared. No, it’d taken a good dose of blackmail to get Brady to start working at the winery.

Seemed his mother didn’t have a corner on that market after all.

But Brady’s situation had been different. Aidan hadn’t been trying to get him on board for his own personal agenda or to fulfill his father’s greatest wish. He’d done it for his brother.

Brady had been lost. Floundering. Drinking too much and being a complete ass—nothing new, really. But he hadn’t even wanted anything to do with his own kid after getting J.C. pregnant. Of course, J.C. being the sister of Brady’s ex-fiancée had complicated matters.