Page 114 of The Difference Between

His lips twitch. “That was because sometimes having people around makes things better.”

We inch toward each other over the bar.

I saw him yesterday when I walked Addie home but was still in the midst of dealing with my emotional hangover from our date and Addie asking me to live with them while I had the face of a clown, so I kept my distance.

He leans closer—he wants to kiss me. My pulse picks up—I want that too.

His mouth is a whisper from mine, and I can’t let this happen again. Not until he knows why I’m really here and I know what I really want. With the right donor. With this business. With him. With being in Fontain.

I whisper, “Did Greg make the glass?”

He snaps upright, eyes wide.

Aha! I knew it. Every time the glass comes up, so does Greg. It explains why everyone’s so cryptic. Greg made beautiful things that make them ache because he’s gone.

Gavin’s eyes snap to the grapes on the ceiling. “Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re vague,” I tell him. “Weird when I ask how to get in touch with the artist. Every time I bring it up everyone gets . . .” It’s hard to find the right word in such a delicate situation. “Weird.” My brows raise. “And I don’t care how good of a deal you got, it had to be expensive. The only thing that makes sense is that it’s . . .”

“What?”

“It’s someone you know, know. If it wasn’t Greg, then . . .”

His gaze drops from the ceiling to me. “Then what?”

“Then—” I glance at the ceiling. Then nothing—it has to be Greg; nobody else makes sense.

Gavin’s “Reese” comes with a laugh. “I nee⁠—”

Rue pops her head in the door as a bus pulls into the lot. “Showtime, sis.”

And just like that, the glass and who made it is irrelevant.

This is happening—I’m running a vineyard.

That I own.

At my wide eyes, Gavin grins. “Relax. You’ll be vine.”

We’re about to find out.

Thirty-Two

Nash is right on time—in a button-up shirt covered in wine bottles, no less—with fourteen guests in his blue Thirsty for History bus.

Just as planned, he gives them a brief overview of what to expect—a no-frills boutique vineyard with options for tastings, retail, and free tours with our onsite expert.

Not wanting to seem too eager or pass out, I wait inside as everyone else greets Nash and the guests of all ages. They step off the bus and pause briefly to take in the view, using words like gorgeous and peaceful to describe the property.

It really is, especially today. It’s a perfect temperature under a sunny sky. The earliest of fall yellows and reds on the trees and vines pop against the clear blue of the sky as the slightest breeze blows.

I couldn’t have planned better weather if I tried.

Nancy wanders in, taking in the details quietly until she’s across the empty bar from me. There’s a big smile on her face as the doorway frames the people bringing to life a dream she once dreamed.

“How’s it feel?” I ask, watching Gavin and Nash slap backs and shake hands before Gavin focuses his attention on the guests and Nash turns his to Bennie and Rue. My beloved sister has already abandoned her post. “Seeing people out here again?”

Nancy’s smile stays, but there’s moisture in her eyes and cracks in her words. “Like they’re here and gone all at once.” She sniffs then laughs. “Like I’ve never been more happy or sad.” She takes the napkin I offer to blot her tears then wipe her nose. “God, Reese. Bud would have loved to see you being part of this. Greg too. And Amanda.”