All I've Waited For Lindsay Harrel (top 10 inspirational books .txt) 📖

the clock ticked loudly, its hands rounding toward eight-thirty. A new workday was about to begin. “So what’s it gonna be? Are you going to sacrifice all that you’ve worked for because you’re afraid people won’t love you if you don’t make time for the things they want you to make time for? Or are you gonna start saying no to the things that don’t matter and pursue the happiness coming to you?”

She closed her eyes for a brief second, imagined the possibilities, the future she held in her hands. Vaulting out of her chair, she circled the desk and hugged Kyle around the neck.

He patted her forearms with his large, rough hands. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! It’s most definitely a yes.”

Chapter 17

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.” Alex Rosche rose from the Campbells’ kitchen table and walked with Derek toward the front door.

Derek waved him off. “I appreciate you coming out on such short notice.” He eyed Alex’s dress slacks, button-up shirt, and tie. “And right after work too. On a Friday night.”

“Anything for my second family.” As the son of Millie, the Campbells’ long-time housekeeper and cook, Alex had been like a little brother running around the vineyard when they were all young. But the annoying, scrawny kid had actually grown up to be wicked smart and helpful. “And I know things aren’t what you’d hoped, but you did come up with some good ideas for recovery.”

Derek had hoped that, as the city’s financial analyst, Alex would be able to offer some extra insight into the vineyard’s money troubles. He should have brought the guy in before now, but pride had gotten in the way. Not anymore.

Because now that he’d put his focus back where it should be—not on women and weddings, but on saving the vineyard—he would do anything it took. Unfortunately, the reality of their financial position had been worse than he’d thought.

If he didn’t figure something out, by this time next year they’d have to sell off the vineyard, or at least part of it.

They reached the front door and Derek held out his hand to Alex. The guy shook it, then turned and headed toward his Corolla.

“What was Alex doing here?”

Derek shut the door and found Dad behind him leaning heavily on his cane. He’d had an infusion earlier today and looked ready to pass out.

“Nothing.” His fingers itched to help Dad to the couch, but his father would chafe under that kind of attention. Instead, Derek headed back to the kitchen, where he gathered up the papers scattered across the tabletop.

“I just didn’t know the two of you hung out that much. He’s always been more Heather’s friend than yours.”

Apparently Dad had followed him.

The papers crinkled under Derek’s hand as he stuffed them inside a folder. Derek sighed. Might as well tell Dad the truth. “I asked him to come over to do an assessment of our financials. We also chatted about some ideas I have for bringing in more revenue.”

“Such as?”

He deposited the folder into his dad’s available hand. “There are the smaller scale ideas, like renting out the cabins again. That used to bring in a nice tidy sum. I don’t know why Heather suggested we stop that in the first place. We could also look into getting licensed to hold events on-site. There’s some stupid city law right now, but I think they’d be a financial boon if we could get past that.” Pacing, he ran a hand through his hair. “We also could sell off part of the land if we were really desperate. I know that’s not ideal, but better to keep some of it if we can’t keep it all. Oh, and we can approach some other vineyards to see if they want to partner with us.”

Dad rapped his cane against the tile floor.

Derek froze, his gaze rounding on his father.

Shaking the folder, Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Son, why didn’t you run any of this by me before now?”

“You’ve had a lot going on.” Much as he’d been chasing down his to-do list around the vineyard, house, and town, Derek couldn’t have missed the very real toll dialysis had taken on his father. After a treatment, Dad slept for practically a full day—when he wasn’t tied to the toilet, that was. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

“Burden me? This is my business.”

“Yes, but …” He wanted to shake the stubbornness right out of his father. Biting back a groan, he beelined for the other side of the kitchen island where a pile of dirty dishes sat in the sink. Since he’d needed the kitchen after dinner and Millie had left early for a doctor’s appointment, Derek had volunteered to clean up the mess Heather and Mia had left after making tacos for the whole family. No time like the present.

“But what?”

Dad wasn’t going to like his answer. Derek flicked on the hot water, maneuvered around the dirty dishes to plug the sink, and squirted in some soap. “You’re not the only one who wants to save it.”

“Of course not.” His dad eased onto the barstool at the island. “But ultimately, it’s my responsibility.”

“It’s never just been your responsibility.” Picking up the scrub brush, he attacked the first plate. “You’re not the only one willing to do whatever it takes to save our home.”

The kitchen grew silent except for splashing water and grinding bristles against the ceramic plates. Then, “What are we talking about here, son?”

But Derek couldn’t tell him. It would break the man’s pride. “Nothing.” He dunked the plate into the soapy water, a bit of crusted-on refried beans clinging stubbornly to the stoneware.

“You weren’t in love with Claire, were you?”

The plate slipped from Derek’s hand and shattered on the floor.

Great. Just great.

Derek glanced up at Dad, prepared to see condemnation in his eyes—or disappointment, at the very least. But instead, something like sadness rested there.

Sighing, he glanced down at the mess he’d created. “No, I wasn’t. I respected her and she respected