Intercepted by Love: Part Six: A Football Romance (The Quarterback's Heart Book 6) (6 page)

“
J
ames
, you need to get in the wheelchair,” Andie’s mother said as she pulled the wheelchair from the rack in their van. It was another beautiful day, and Andie was spending time with her parents on a tour of the Tall Duck Winery.

“I can use the walker, or even better, I’ll push Bret’s stroller,” her dad insisted.

“Dad, you might fall on the cobblestones.” Andie didn’t want to discourage her father, but his gait, although getting better, was still wobbly, and his arm movements were jerky on one side and stiff on the other.

“Don’t be telling your old man what he can or can’t do.” James put on the huffy Dad-knows-best voice.

“If you drive your wheelchair, we can let you hold Bret in your lap. I bet he’d love it.” Andie took Bret out of the car seat. “Then I won’t have to push the stroller.”

“Sounds like fun,” Andie’s mother said. “Although, Bret can get awfully wiggly.”

“I can hold onto a baby. Sheesh, what do you take me for, an invalid?” Andie’s father swiveled the motorized captain’s chair in the van so that both his legs pointed to the door. “Give me a hand, Pam?”

Andie’s mother positioned the wheelchair, braking it, then helped her father from the van. “I know you’re walking better. You don’t have to prove anything.”

“But I do,” James said. “Andie’s wedding’s in a week, and if I’m to play King Saul, I absolutely cannot be in a wheelchair or use a walker.”

“I’m sure they had canes back then.” Andie’s mother sighed, propping up her father and easing him into the chair.

“Dad, you’ll be great. Besides, you can lean on me,” Andie said.

“Oh, no, you’re leaning on me. I’m the one who taught you how to walk,” her father said, holding out his arms. “Let me have my little Bret.”

As soon as Andie placed Bret into his arms, Andie’s father jiggled the joystick and took off in his wheelchair toward the ramp leading to the tasting room.

“Your father’s stubborn,” Andie’s mother said. “It was so hard for him those first months when he couldn’t speak or move. He’s come a long way.”

The two women glanced after James’s wheelchair making tracks over the gravel parking lot. No man wanted to be weak. Before his stroke, Andie’s father was a dynamo, full of energy, hiking through the desert and climbing into caves in search of ancient civilizations and their hidden stories.

“He sure has,” Andie said. “I should have been here more to take care of him, instead of on bedrest. You ended up taking care of both of us.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder as she locked up the van. “People are more important than things, and well, maybe I didn’t amount to much as a writer or had a decent career, but my joy is in the people I cared for.”

Andie hefted her purse over her shoulder. “I know, but I want more. There’s a reason I’m checking out the winery today.”

“Oh? I know you can’t drink and neither can James with his medication. I thought you wanted to spend some time with us.”

“Of course I do. But it’s also to check out the condition of the buildings and speak to the owners. Mr. Silver has a business proposal. It’s all confidential, but I want to be in on it and since I’m from around here, no one will be suspicious if I ask a lot of questions.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed and she cupped her hand to whisper, “I don’t like that Mr. Silver. At your party, I walked by when he and your friends were talking and they all clammed up.”

“I’m thinking of a business proposal that Dad can be a part of, too.”

“No wonder you wanted to take the tour,” her mother said, looking at her pregnant condition. “You sure you’re not having contractions?”

“None whatsoever.” Andie opened the door to the tasting room for her father who was waiting on the ramp. “Let me buy the tour tickets so we can get a look around.”

A silent message passed between her parents.

“What?” Andie looked between them. “I want to learn more about winemaking, that’s all.”

A young man greeted them at the counter. “I’m Ambrose McCallister the third. Welcome to the Tall Duck Winery. It’s been in our family since the 1850s when my great, great, great, oh, I forgot how many greats, grandfather bought one hundred and fifty acres.”

“Only the third?” James quipped. “What was your great, great, many times, grandfather’s name?”

“Argyle, used that name for three generations,” Ambrose said. “But I’m not going to continue that tradition. Who’s this little guy?”

“Bret, my grandson,” Andie’s father said with more than a little bit of pride.

Ambrose bent over little Bret and tickled his tummy. Bret laughed and squealed out loud, and the look on Andie’s father’s face was pure joy.

“So, what are you folks interested in today?” Ambrose said, standing to his full height. The man was rugged, in that backwoods kind of manner, but clean cut, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and well-aged blue jeans. “The tour includes tasting, but I can substitute some of our apple cider or sparkling grape juice.”

He grinned at Andie as he scanned her ring finger.

Oops. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring because her finger was swollen due to being almost nine months pregnant.

“I’m interested in your operations and of course, the historical aspect of your buildings,” Andie replied.

“Yes, we’re history buffs,” her father cut in. “Although I specialize in the ancient Near East, particularly the culture of pre-bronze age Greece, Minoa, Cyprus, and the Philistines in Israel.”

“Cool. As you know, wine was well loved even back then,” Ambrose said. “Okay, let’s start with the vines. You folks are in luck because the buds are breaking this week. We hope there won’t be any late snowstorms, because the sap is rising with the warmer temperatures and the vines will be damaged.”

“How was your harvest last year?” Andie pulled out a notebook.

“Unfortunately, a late storm and consecutive nights of frost wiped out our entire vintage.” Ambrose’s mouth turned down. “It’s one of the perils of growing grapes in the Finger Lakes region. My father had to mortgage our family home, the old Victorian farmhouse that’s on the historical registry.”

“Let’s hope this year brings plenty of sunshine,” Andie’s mother said, elbowing her.

Okay, so her parents were protective over the family-owned businesses in the area, but couldn’t it be said that an infusion of cash would be welcome?

The group wandered from the tasting room to the fields. Rows and rows of pruned vines spread from their trellises where little buds, like the fuzzy new antlers on a young deer, poked through the tough, wizened stems. The scent of fresh grass and damp earth held the promise of spring in the air.

Ambrose lovingly stroked the woody branch of the nearest vine. “No matter how many years I’ve seen this, bud break always fills me with awe. It’s new life, new hope, and a new promise.”

Again, he glanced with significance at Andie’s protruding belly.

Andie felt her throat thicken. She too, had a new life inside of her, but not just that, she had a new life with Cade. Shouldn’t she let hope overcome fear?

Quack, quack, quack. A flock of black ducks sprinted toward them, heads held high, and necks stretched to the sky.

“Oh, look,” Andie’s father said to Bret, propping him up so he could get a better view. “Tall ducks.”

Ambrose smiled and squatted to the ducks’ level. “Come here and show our friends how you keep the vines bug free.”

“Why are they so tall?” Andie’s mother asked.

“They’re Indian Runners.” Ambrose laughed, stroking one of the duck’s head. “They’re bred to eat snails, slugs, and insects among rows of crops. Obviously, our winery is named after them.”

“They’re so beautiful.” Andie took out her phone and put it in camera mode. The ducks were black, but glistened dark green when the sun hit their feathers at the right angle.

“A lot of people confuse them with Cayuga ducks,” Ambrose said. “We have some of those too. In fact, we have over two hundred ducks on the property. Swedish, Ancona, Khaki Campbell, Pekin, and quite a few hybrids. My mom’s a duck collector.”

He reached for Andie’s father’s wheelchair to help it over a rut. “Let’s check out the pond.”

A black and white sheep dog ambled up to them as they rounded an old barn, its paint faded, but well-repaired. Andie snapped a picture of the relic. Would Dinah Silver keep this barn the way it was, or would she modernize the entire operation and replace all the buildings?

“We even have a woodshed,” Ambrose said, as they walked by it. “And over there’s where my mother cures her hams.”

“So, this is more than a winery?” Andie’s father asked.

“It’s our family farm. The first Argyle McCallister planted the first vineyard of the region, but all operations stopped during Prohibition. My great-grandparents kept growing grapes during that time and improved our rootstocks. My grandfather taught winemaking at the university, and my dad went to business school and made this a full-fledged winery in the 1980s. Now, there are many wineries in the area, and we’ve been able to stay independent and family-owned, so far.”

Andie fiddled with her pen, as guilt slithered through her stomach. Maybe Dinah Silver would let the family stay on and operate their winery.

They stopped in front of the pond where flocks of ducks, black ones, white ones, spotted and speckled ones, milled around, either in the water, or preening their feathers on the bank.

“All that land is ours,” Ambrose said. “The forest beyond the pond, and part of that hill overlooking the lake. It’s a bit muddy and not part of the tour, but if you folks are interested in coming back, I can invite you to a picnic Saturday. Drive you up there on my tractor.”

Again, he grinned at Andie, but looked away when she acknowledged him. Somehow he reminded her of Cade, good looking, but a shy and boy-next-door type, not a city slicker like Ronaldo.

“That’s awfully kind of you,” Andie’s mother said. “But my daughter has to prepare for her wedding, and we have a million things to do.”

Ambrose rubbed his upper lip and nodded, his face turning a bright red. He cleared his throat. “Well then, let’s continue with the winery. I’ll show you the presses, which are empty right now, since we have no new grapes, and the entire pumping system. Everything in a winery has to do with pumping, taking the juice from the presses to the various tanks for fermentation, then barreling, you can imagine. Because of our busted crop last year, we haven’t replaced some of our aging pumps, so we’ve had to make do with less efficiency. The worst thing was letting some of our workers go, but the people we mortgaged the house to are picking up some of the slack.”

He seemed to be stumbling over his words. Okay, so he was attracted to Andie, even in her big as a boat condition, but Ambrose was hunky in his own rugged way. Maybe she could introduce Sylvia to him.

“Could you use another investor for the winery?” Andie recovered her wits as they wandered into the fermentation room where large, stainless steel tanks sat.

“My father’s against it,” Ambrose said. “Especially if it was a large corporation run by a bunch of suits. You should have seen the fight my mom had with my dad on accepting the mortgage money. He only relented because the lenders were plain folks who gave us cash and agreed to let my dad and I run the business without interference. No big news conference or any publicity. They’re staying in the background and working alongside us. Nice family, really.” His eyes swept her pregnant belly again as he swallowed, his ears turning red at her obvious family-condition.

“What about renting out some of your locations, like the hill above the lake, or the barn, or the farmhouse for events?” If she was going to be a businesswoman, she couldn’t let embarrassment keep her from asking the right questions.

“Like parties and such?” Ambrose crossed his arms and shook his head. “We tried that in the last recession, but the liability insurance to cover the events almost drove us under.”

Andie put her notebook away. Gulp. She’d insulted him. She could see how self-sufficient and independent the family-owned farms and businesses could be. They didn’t want outside interference, even if outsiders could bring in new ideas and help them grow their business.

The rest of the tour was a blur with Ambrose going through the motions. He showed them oak barrels, expensive ones from France, explaining about how they only bought them from certain forests. He skipped the tour of the cellar, due to her father’s wheelchair, and finished in the tasting room.

The atmosphere was decidedly chillier than at the beginning of the tour, and Andie felt she’d made an enemy for even suggesting outside investors. It must have hurt their pride already to mortgage the family home. Fortunately, her parents kept small talk going, and when they all declined to taste any wine, her mother bought a souvenir cork puller.

A group of visitors waited near the entrance, full of giggling college women. Ambrose brightened visibly and bade Andie and her family goodbye.

As they ambled to the parking lot, her mother said, “Whatever you and Ronaldo are up to, it’s not welcome here in Itasca. The last thing we want is some Hollywood prince coming in here and commercializing everything, then leaving after the environment is destroyed.”

“Plenty of busted investments up this region,” James said.

“I know how you feel, but I’m not sure Ambrose or his family can stop progress.” Andie took Bret from her father’s arms as her mother helped James into the van. “From the way Tall Duck Winery looks, it won’t survive another year, much less a recession.”

T
he wedding was less
than a week away. Andie and her mother sat at the kitchen table, double-checking the list of invitations and responses. Because the wedding tent was small and they had a need for secrecy, she could only invite her aunts and uncles, and two girlfriends she went to college with.

“I always dreamed about a big, fancy wedding only because Dad named me Antoinette Marie and I thought it meant I’d have the largest and fanciest wedding cake,” Andie said as she checked off the responses. “But then, I think this is better. We don’t have to make small talk with people we barely know.”

“That’s so true.” Her mother poured her a cup of tea. “As it is, we have so much to do. Approving the reception menu at the Tall Duck, putting together a souvenir program with yours and Cade’s pictures. Of course, we still need to buy Bret his suit and tie, although, who knows? Maybe he should wear a robe of some sort. What did babies wear in ancient Israel?”

“Tiny robes, probably. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect.” Andie took a deep breath. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing, having this historical reenactment wedding? I can tell Cade’s not into it. He keeps saying ‘whatever makes you happy,’ which means he’s not happy about it.”

“What’s he unhappy about?” Andie’s father thumped his walker into the kitchen.

“Shoo!” her mother said. “We’re doing wedding stuff.”

Her father leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Yes, but this is a historical wedding. How many times does Princess Michal marry the young upstart shepherd boy who felled a giant?”

“It’s only a reenactment, Dad.” Andie squeezed his arm. “Maybe I should have married Cade at city hall with the two of you and Aunt Helen.”

“No, no, no, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You should go for what you want, unless he has serious misgivings,” James said. “I would have loved to have had a
Temple of Doom
wedding, but your mother here wasn’t going for it.”

“Not to mention the theme of our marriage would have been doomed.” Her mother got up and poured her father a cup of tea. “Cereal and yogurt okay?”

“Of course, sweetie. Whatever makes you happy,” he quipped. “That’s the husband’s go-to line.”

“He’d rather have eggs and pancakes is what he’s saying.”

“Sure, but if it makes you happy to serve me rubbery chicken, I’m happy too.” He beamed back at her, joking about last evening’s meal when her mother had been busy reviewing Andie’s baby pictures for the souvenir program.

“Please!” Andie crooned, feigning being tortured “Anything but rubbery chicken. Not that rubbery chicken again.”

James threw his head back and laughed. “Any husband who passes the rubbery chicken test is a keeper.”

“Remind me to try that on Cade,” Andie said. “But then again, any guy who passes the
David Betrayed
wedding test is certifiable.”

“Then Cade is both a keeper and certifiable,” Andie’s parents said at the same time, then high-fived each other.

“Geez, you guys, you’re turning into pod people.” Andie shook her head. “I just hope Cade and I will be like you two someday.”

“Pod people?” Her dad chuckled.

“I mean, look at you two.” Warm and cuddly emotions flooded Andie. Her parents were so at ease with each other, and the love between them was so real and natural, it made their home complete and secure. “I bet you two weren’t jittery before your wedding.”

Mom and Dad both stopped what they were doing and glanced at each other. Mom coughed and Dad cleared his throat.

“You want to tell her?” Dad passed the buck, as usual. “You’re so much better at this.”

“Actually, you and Andie have the special bond, both of you having historically analytical minds,” her mother said, smiling as she stirred milk into her tea.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James protested. “Of course we had our disagreements.”

“Except you always won,” her mother said. “I didn’t put up much of a fight, and if it hadn’t been for the expense of the
Temple of Doom
wedding, like recreating the set, you would have forced it on me.”

“Forced it? At least I took your feelings into account and didn’t do the
Children of the Corn
theme. We did have a cornfield at the back of my parents’ house.”

“Wait, wait,” Andie cut in. “
Children of the Corn
was a horror movie. Seriously, Dad, you wanted that?”

“It would have been funny.”

“Not more than
The Bride of Frankenstein
,” her mother grumbled. “I put my foot down. No. Theme. Weddings.”

“But, if you can’t have a theme for your wedding, when can you?” James crossed his arms and pouted. “A theme funeral with
Beetlejuice
?”

“Oh, oh, or a baby shower for a devil child.” Andie clasped her hands over her belly. “Wasn’t
Rosemary’s Baby
famous back in your day?”

“Stop it. Stop!” Her mother covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “Why don’t you two go back to historical reenactments instead of horror movies?”

“Pammy, it’s okay,” her father said. “We were just joking. Of course I agreed to the small, normal wedding we had. I mean, it’s what made you happy.”

Andie twisted her fingers around each other and tried to calm her breathing. Face it, she was stressed out—drowning under the wedding planning and worried that baby Bonnie would make her grand entrance during the ceremony.

“You okay, Andie?” Her father rubbed her shoulder. “If you want a small, normal wedding, it’s still not too late to have it. The lady at the Tall Duck said we could use the farmhouse for both the wedding and the reception.”

“I’ve always wanted a wedding that’s different and unique, but Cade’s right. The wedding’s not the important thing, it’s the people and family.”

“And knowing you’re doing the right thing,” her mother added, taking her father’s hand and rubbing it. “Despite our differences in wedding preferences, we both knew we were right for each other.”

Her father smiled sheepishly and nodded. “That’s what’s most important.”

Andie hugged her father and then her mother joined in a group hug. The most important of all was love, and she had it in spades with her little family.

“I know I’m doing the right thing in marrying Cade,” she announced. “Even though he never had the family we had, he’s the best thing to happen to me. I can see us someday like you two. We might have our disagreements, but we always have each other’s backs.”

“You’re okay with all the travel?” Her mother stepped back and touched her face. “The publicity and the celebrity status?"

“I’d love to stick to him like glue, but we’ll adjust. While the babies are young, we can go on the road with him, and by the time they go to school, Cade says it would be time for him to retire. He wants me to start a business he can join in later.”

“He does? That’s wonderful,” both her parents exclaimed in unison.

“He’s wonderful. He’s everything good to me.” Andie hugged her pregnant belly and rubbed it. “I’ve never been more sure of anything else.”

C
ade knotted
and reknotted his tie, following the instructions on the internet. Could Andie’s father tell the difference between a full Windsor and a half Windsor?

He checked his watch and blew a breath. He was due at Andie’s house in twenty minutes to take her father out for burgers and get his blessing for the marriage.

Dr. James Wales was an archaeologist and history buff who brought Andie to his digs even when she was a tiny tot. Father and daughter were very close, and they both loved to speculate about historical figures, as well as play with reenactments.

Besides, Cade could use some tips on how to keep Andie happy. After all, father knew best.

“You almost ready?” Andie’s image appeared in the dresser mirror, holding Bret. “Don’t be nervous, sweetie.”

“How can I not be nervous?” Cade rubbed his hands together. “I’m asking for your hand.”

“He’s not going to turn you down.” Andie patted her belly. “If I were you, I’d watch out for shotguns or javelins.”

“Yeah, I kind of screwed up there, not that Bonnie’s a screw up, but it should have been wedding first and baby shower later.”

“We haven’t had Bonnie’s shower yet. It could still work.”

“Sure, if Bonnie sticks to her due date, and this wedding goes off without a hitch.”

Andie’s eyebrows creased as she came to his side and peered up at him. “Are you still worried your mother might mess it up?”

“Not really. We’ve kept this thing mum, and other things on the news are keeping the reporters busy.” He yanked at his tie again. “Face it, my mom took the money and ran. She doesn’t care if we get married or not. Maybe she’ll eventually see Bonnie’s picture on the internet, but it’s not like she’s breaking down our door trying to see Bret.”

“She’s wanted by the law,” Andie reminded him. “I’m sure we’re under FBI surveillance and they’re watching for her to try and come to our wedding. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s asked your sister for updates.”

“My sister doesn’t even keep up with me, other than friending me on social media after her early release from prison.” Cade tugged at his tie, tightening the knot.

“Maybe that was your mom using Joanie’s profile picture,” Andie said.

“Let’s not speculate.” Cade brushed his hair back and smoothed his dress shirt. He knew better than to believe his family cared, other than to ask him for money. “Think I look honorable enough to ask for your hand?”

“You better ask for all of me and not just my hand.” Andie prodded him toward the door. “Now, go. Stop worrying. My father always wanted a son, and now he’s got you and Bret—enough men to go ice fishing with him.”

“Along with you and Bonnie.” Cade pulled both Andie and Bret into a warm embrace.

“Of course, we’re family, all of us.” She kissed him, a slow, drawn-out kiss, while Bret yanked his tie.

As he drew back, he held her fingertips and touched them to his lips. “I love you, all of you, and I’ll ask for nothing less.”

Fifteen minutes later, Cade rang the bell at Andie’s parents’ house. Even though he had a key, this was a date with her father, and he wanted to do everything properly.

Sweat ringed his collar, and his tie was too tight. Face it. He was a nervous wreck. Right now, he’d rather face the entire defensive line of the LA Flash than the man who’d been number one in Andie’s heart since the day she was born.

Red and Gollie barked and whined in welcome. Their two dogs were staying with Andie’s parents this week, since Andie had her hands full with wedding preparations and was over at their house a lot. Andie’s mother answered the door and welcomed him in.

Cade shook her hand, suddenly regretting that he hadn’t had the foresight to bring her flowers or a box of chocolates.

Gollie pounced on Cade’s legs, while Red stayed back, wagging his tail.

“Down, Gollie,” Andie’s mother said. “Don’t ruin Cade’s good slacks.”

Andie’s father thumped the walker toward him. He was wearing a sports coat and slacks, although no tie.

“Hello, Cade, ready for our date? You’re going to have to take my arm, because I’m not using the walker this evening. Gotta practice walking Andie down the aisle.”

“That’s fine by me,” Cade said, holding out his arm.

Cade waved to Andie’s mother and helped James over the threshold and down the driveway. The older man leaned heavily on him while his legs moved in a jerky fashion. There was no way he could walk Andie down the aisle unless Andie held his weight. Maybe Cade should volunteer to walk with them, but then, he might hurt the older man’s pride.

He swallowed his worry for now. Tonight was about getting to know James and assuring him Cade loved his daughter and was committed to making her happy for the rest of her life.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Brody’s, a local brew house and burger joint. Since neither man wanted to drink any of the craft beers, they settled for a pair of root beers.

“So, you brought me here to bribe me with root beer and burgers?” James tapped his bottle to Cade’s as a mock toast.

“Definitely. There’s no comparing the crispy burgers here with anything else.” Cade crunched on the flavorful crust to the juicy center, dripping with cheese, served on a toasted potato roll with slices of pickles and caramelized onions.

“None of those two-hundred dollar burgers you find in Hollywood,” James agreed, no doubt having heard all about them from Andie’s mother.

“I’m glad I left Hollywood behind,” Cade said. “Coming to Itasca last year for my winter getaway was the best thing that happened to me.”

“Yes, our neck of the woods is rather special.” James’s eyes twinkled. “Especially the Olin Library.”

That was the place Cade had met Andie, deep in the stacks in the Ancient History section. Cade swallowed the bite of juicy burger and took another swig of root beer. Now that the conversation was veering closer to Andie, he felt his stomach knotting. How did one broach the subject? Andie, was, after all, James and Pam’s precious daughter, an only child.

Add to that, Cade had knocked her up, and his mother had almost caused Andie to die. Not to mention that embarrassing incident of the indecent picture showing her in a compromising pose. Sheesh. He should have had something harder to drink than root beer. Maybe he’d better get to the point, at least before dessert.

“Itasca’s mighty special with the university, the waterfalls and deep gorges, the lake and the small town charm, but for me, it’s where I met Andie, your daughter.”

“Ah, yes, my daughter.” James set the bottle on the table. “What do you want to know about her?”

“Know? Oh, I guess everything.” Cade rubbed the back of his neck. “Specifically, how to make her happy. Were there things she dreamed about doing as a little girl?”

A smile spread across James’s face, and he leaned back. “She was always a dreamer, although not the most focused. A lot of it was my doing. I’m not sure if she got into archaeology because she truly cared about people long dead and the stuff of legends, or she just wanted to be daddy’s girl and follow me around.”

“You two have a very close relationship.”