He handed Tony the note, and when he glanced at the name, he cursed under his breath. He didnât need this right now. âOkay,â he said, stuffing the note in his pocket. âThanks. Iâll take care of it.â
Now he had three things to deal with, the note he tucked away being the least of his worries. At least he knew now how to save Purple Fields, but after reading Vine by Vine, Tony wasnât sure how he could repair the damage heâd done to Rena.
The promise he made to David far from his mind, Tony wanted to save his hasty marriage for more selfish reasons. He couldnât deny that reliving the past in these last few hours made him realize how much Rena had once meant to him.
He got in his car and drove off, speeding out of town, needing the rush of adrenaline to ward off his emotions and plaguing thoughts that he was falling in love with Rena again.
Tony entered the house, and a pleasing aroma led him straight to the kitchen. He found Rena standing at the stove top stirring the meal, her hair beautifully messy and her face pink from puffs of steam rising up. She didnât acknowledge his presence initially until he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him. He kissed her throat, breathing in her citrus scent. âLooking good.â
âItâs just stew.â
âI meant you,â Tony said, stealing another quick kiss. Coming home to this domestic scene, something grabbed his insides and twisted when he saw her. âYouâre beautiful behind the stove. I want to come home to you every night.â
She frowned and moved slightly away. âDonât say those things.â
âWhy?â he asked softly. âBecause Iâve said them before and now you donât believe me?â
Rena kept stirring the stew. âYouâre astute.â
âAnd youâre being stubborn.â
She shrugged, moving away from the stove to grab two plates from the cabinet. Tony took out cutlery from a drawer and set two glasses on the table.
So now they were resorting to name-calling? This certainly wasnât the scene Tony pictured in his mind when he first entered the house.
âDid you find out anything from Joe?â Rena asked.
âYeah, I did. But letâs eat first.â
âWhenever someone says that to me, I know the news is not good.â
âThereâs bad news and thereâs good news. I think we should eat first before discussing it.â
Rena brought the dishes to the stove top and filled their plates, adding two biscuits to Tonyâs plate. She served him and sat down to eat. Her long hair fell forward as she nibbled on her food. She wore jeans and a soft baby-blue knit blouse that brought out the vivid color of her eyes. She hardly looked pregnant, except for a hint of added roundness to her belly.
Sweeping emotions stirred in his gut. He wanted to protect Rena. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to make love to her until all the pain and anger disappeared from her life. So much had happened to her in her short thirty-one years from losing her mother and father, to losing David, but it had all started with him. And Tony determined it would all end with him as well.
After the meal, Rena started cleaning up. Tony rose and then took her hand. âLeave this. Weâll take care of it later. We need to talk.â
She nodded and followed him into the living room. Oak beams, a stone fireplace stacked with logs and two comfortable sofas lent to the warmth of the room. Tony waited for her to sit, then took a place next to her.
They sat in silence for a minute, then Tony began. âWhat I have to say isnât easy. Joe and I went through the records and have proof now of how my father manipulated sales in the region.â
âYou mean, my father was right? Santo set out to destroy us?â
Tony winced and drew a breath. âI canât sugarcoat it, Rena. My father undercut Purple Fields, even at a loss to his own company to drive you out of business. Joeâs guess is that it wasnât personal. Heâd been doing the same to other small businesses for years.â
Rena closed her eyes, absorbing the information. âMy father knew. He didnât have proof. His customers wouldnât talk about it, except to say that theyâd found better deals elsewhere. Theyâd praised our wine over and over but wouldnât buy it.â
âMy father probably strong-armed them into silence,â Tony said.
Rena opened her eyes and stared at him. He couldnât tell what was going on in her head, but he suspected it wasnât good.
She rose from her seat and paced the floor. âMy mother was worried and anxious all the time. She loved Purple Fields. She and my father poured everything they had into the winery. They worked hard to make ends meet. She held most of it in, putting up a brave front, but I could tell she wasnât the same. My father noticed it, too. Heâd stare at her with concern in his eyes. And that all started around the time when we broke up and you left town.â
Tony stood to face her. He owed Rena the full truth or at least the truth as he saw it. His voice broke when he made the confession, âI think he targeted Purple Fields after I left.â
She stiffened and her mouth twisted. âMy God,â she whispered, closing her eyes in agony. âDonât you see? The stress might have triggered my motherâs illness.â
Tony approached her. âRena, no.â
She began nodding her head. âOh, yes. Yes. My mother was healthy. There was no history of that disease in our family. Mom was fine. Fine, until the winery started going downhill. She worried herself sick. The doctors even suggested that stress could be a factor.â
Renaâs face reddened as her pain turned to anger. She announced with a rasp in her voice, âI need some air.â
Tony watched her walk out of the house, slamming the door behind her. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration rising. âDamn it. Damn it.â
Heâd never hated being a Carlino more than now. He could see it in Renaâs eyesâthe blame, the hatred and the injury. When sheâd looked at him that way, he understood all of her resentment. He knew sheâd react to the truth with some degree of anger, but heâd never considered that sheâd blame his family for her motherâs illness.
Could it be true?
Tony couldnât change the past. All he could do now was to convince her heâd make things right. He gave her a few minutes of solitude before exiting the house. He had to find his wife and comfort her.
Even though in her eyes, he was the enemy.
Rena ran into the fields. The setting sun cast golden hues onto the vines, helping to light her way. She ran until her heart raced too fast and her breaths surged too heavy. Yet she couldnât outrace the burning ache in her belly or the plaguing thoughts in her mind. She stopped abruptly in the middle of the cabernet vines, fully winded, unable to run another step. Putting her head in her hands, tears spilled down her cheeks. Grief struck her anew. It was as if she was losing her mother all over again. Pretty, vivacious Belinda Fairfield had died before her time. Her sweet, brave mother hadnât deserved to suffer so. She hadnât deserved to relinquish her life in small increments until she was too weak to get out of bed.
Renaâs