“Should I?” he mocked, then tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Tiff.”

“Why do you need a place in Bittersweet, anyway?”

“I told you, the winery—”

“I know, but why here? Why not in California? Sonoma or Napa.”

“Dad likes to do business in Oregon.”

“There are lots of vineyards in the Willamette Valley, closer to Portland.” Her mind was spinning. What would it mean to have the Santinis here, in her hometown, her place of refuge? She’d thought when she’d moved here, to this house that Philip had bought as an investment, that she would have the time and distance she needed to start over, to keep from thinking about the pain, about the guilt.

“He thinks the climate is better here for what he wants to do. He’s already got a couple of wineries up north.”

“I know,” she interjected, remembering all too well the rolling hills of Santini Brothers’ vineyards, the place she’d met her future brother-in-law.

J.D. lifted a shoulder as if it made no difference to him. “As I said, I’m just checking out some possibilities.”

“And in the meantime you thought you might stop by and look in on me, see if I’m being the model mother I’m supposed to be,” she snapped angrily. For as long as she could remember, Carlo Santini hadn’t trusted her. He had thought she wanted his son in order to get a chunk of the Santini money. What the Santini family hadn’t understood was that when she’d met Philip, it wasn’t his family’s wealth that had attracted her, but his aura of sophistication, his charm, his way of making her feel loved for the first time in her life. She’d been young, naive and impetuous. Well . . . no longer.

And as for Philip’s money, that had become a moot point: there wasn’t much.

“No one’s ever accused you of being a poor mother,” J.D. said, turning the crank to open one of the windows. A breeze, fresh with the scents of cut grass and roses, whispered into the slope-ceilinged room.

“Just a lousy wife.”

He didn’t respond.

“I know what they thought, J.D.,” she said, unable to leave the subject alone. “I heard them say that I was looking for a father figure, that I needed an older man because I didn’t grow up knowing my dad.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think I loved your brother. End of story. Not that it’s anyone’s business.”

His jaw tightened.