Brody - Ellie Masters Page 0,63
family affair.
I’m totally fucked.
We make our way toward our family home, crossing the distance from the new barn with our long strides. La Rouge Vineyards, and its associated buildings, are nothing short of spectacular. Growing up, we never suffered for money, but that didn’t stop our father from teaching us about the value of hard work.
Asher, Cage, and I were put to work by the time we were seven, laboring beside our workers during the harvest. We started by hauling empty bins to the vines for the workers to fill with grapes. The following year, our father taught us how to hand-select the grapes and cut them from the vines. Our empty bins turned to burdens as we labored beside our father and his men in the field.
By the time we were ten, Dad had us fixing broken trellises that support the vines. He taught us how to train the vines, giving every plant the room it needed to produce the best grapes. At twelve, we dug the post holes that supported the trellises.
He kept our young bodies fit, exhausted, and mostly out of trouble by burning up the excess energy of three young boys who bucked authority at every turn. We earned our livelihood by blood, sweat, tears, and good honest work. Because of that, the family business thrived, and our family reaped the benefits.
The family home bears testament to the hard work of our forefathers. Built out of river rock and high Sierra timber, it’s withstood the test of time. The extensive master suite takes up the entire west end, and the eastern side is where I grew up with my brothers. Three separate bedrooms protrude off a central living space where we made a mess of things as we grew into men.
Asher now lives in the master suite. Mom moved out to the small cottage we built for her after Dad died. Cage and I still keep our things in our rooms, never quite managing to fully move out. Cage has no real home. He heads out on assignment for months at a time, then returns home until he’s sent out to another part of the world. I keep my things here as an anchor because this place keeps me grounded.
People who don’t know me believe I keep a pricey penthouse in the city. The truth is I manage a small, top floor, two bedroom unit. It’s modestly decorated, nearly spartan, and I never bring women home, always taking them to a penthouse suite in my favorite hotel.
Why not, when I have money to spare?
“Brody?” Mom calls out, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“I asked you a question.”
“Sorry, what was it?”
“Got your head in the clouds, I see.” Her motherly look speaks volumes. “I asked if you minded if I join you?”
“Of course, I don’t mind.” That’s a total lie. Sharing Grace with Asher and Evie is one thing; inviting Mom into the mix makes this a whole lot less spontaneous and much more complicated.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see you inside after you wash up.” And just like that, Mom downgraded us from men to boys.
“Yes, Ma’am.” Asher hangs his head but smirks at her motherly command. He’s thinking exactly what I am. “Come on, best we hurry up. Don’t want to leave the women alone for too long.”
“Right back at you.” I launch myself up the porch steps, taking them two at a time, and race to wash my hands and face—just like Mom so politely asked. By the time I make it to the kitchen, Grace stands with Mom and Evie. They take one look at me and smiles fill their faces.
Guilty smiles. The back of my neck tingles because I’m pretty damn sure they were talking about me.
Twenty-Four
Brody
“What’s going on?” I look at each of them, demanding an answer.
“Nothing, just talking.” Evie shrugs. “You know, a little girl time.”
“A little girl time, my ass. You’re up to something.” I glance around the kitchen. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, except for the dozens of cookies cooling on the counter. “Who baked the cookies?” My attention shifts between Evie and Grace. I’ve tasted Evie’s cooking, and it leaves much to be desired. Not that I would say that out loud, but a little advance warning isn’t a bad idea. “Evie, did you make these?”
Evie stands beside Grace and holds a knife loaded with frosting. About half a dozen sloppily iced cookies sit on a tray in front of her. Grace stands right beside her with