The Prodigal Son. Beth Andrews

with.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “DOES THAT MEAN YOU’LL accept the partnership?” his mother asked in what Matt could only describe as a hopeful tone.

      Teeth clenched, he sat on a high-backed stool at the island, deliberately laid his arm on the back of the one next to him in a pose of nonchalance. “That depends. What are the terms you’re offering?”

      She seemed taken aback. Did she really think he’d just meekly go along with whatever stipulations she set out? “The terms,” she said, “are that you and your brothers agree to run the Diamond Dust upon my retirement, at which time I will sign over all shares of the company. Until then, the three of you will remain in Jewell, working at the winery under its current management.”

      Aidan grinned—an unusual and completely unnerving event. “That’d be me.”

      Matt was already shaking his head. “No way am I taking orders from him.”

      “It’s not about taking orders,” his mom said, sending Aidan a reproachful look. His grin only widened. “Aidan has been President of the Diamond Dust for the past eight years. It’s only reasonable that the structure remains the same until I step down as owner. Besides, until that happens, I’ll still have final say on any and all decisions.”

      “And when is this retirement scheduled to take place?” Matt asked.

      “July 27.”

      “That’s the day Mom and Al are getting married,” Aidan put in.

      “Yeah. I knew that,” Matt lied. He straightened, clasped his hands together on the cold counter. Met his mom’s eyes and asked quietly, “And if I…if any of us…don’t agree?”

      “I’ve told you—”

      “No. You haven’t. Not straight out. I need to hear you say it.”

      For a moment, he wondered if she’d back down. But then she lifted her chin and he remembered that his mother was made of stronger stuff than that. Strong enough to risk alienating one of her own sons just to make her deceased husband’s dream come true.

      “If any of you don’t wish to be a part of the Diamond Dust,” she said, her voice steady, “then I will sell the company, the property and this house to Lester Caldwell.”

      Sliding to his feet, Matt looked at his brothers. Aidan stood in front of the large windows of the breakfast nook, the setting sun casting his profile in shadow. Brady sat, one hand flat on the table, the other on Lily’s head.

      “Is this what you both want?” Matt asked them.

      Brady studied him with his cool, hooded gaze. “Does it matter?”

      He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he admitted, not sure who he’d surprised more, his brothers or himself. “Yeah, it does.”

      Instead of answering, Aidan crossed to the island, pulled the contract from the envelope and, after flipping a few pages, signed his name with a flourish. He then handed the contract to Brady, who signed, as well.

      Looked like he had his answer.

      Son of a bitch.

      His mother picked up the contract and pen and set them in front of Matt. “It’s your decision.”