Lily had been right, he realized. He had needed their help, and they had come. Not to inspect the estate, not to peer into his character, or judge or dredge up the past. But they’d come with open arms and hearts, and it humbled him. A group of teens whooped and hollered as they drifted towards the estate and he couldn’t help but smile because he’d been like that once – carefree and fun.

The young guy filling the trailer nodded to him and went to retrieve the empty buckets, loading them on the side of the ATV so they could clear the vineyard.

‘See you back there,’ the guy said and headed off with a loping stride.

For just a moment, Henry stood in the now silent rows of vines that sloped down the hill. Yesterday, when he’d realized that the Bacchus was ready for harvest, he’d felt so helpless, panicked. But more than that, he’d cared. He’d cared that the harvest wouldn’t get done, worried about damaging his father’s vines. And now? As the sun was beginning to lower in the sky, the heat still there, the land full of the scent of sweetness from accidentally crushed grapes, the warm earth beneath his feet, he wanted to see it, taste it. The wines from today’s harvest. He wanted to see how the vines would recover into the next season. Wondered briefly what other grapes his father had wanted to experiment with.

Was that what Lily had seen when he’d caught her basking in the sun earlier? Not the way things were, but what they could be?

Suddenly he wasn’t sure he did want to sell the estate. As if she’d cast a spell over him, over the estate, and he was beginning to see less of the past and more of the future. Beyond Victoria’s wedding, beyond the remaining three harvests that would be needed before the end of autumn. He wanted to see a Christmas here, the ground covered in snow, the estate decorated in holly, ivy, red ribbons and gold. The rooms full, not just of guests, but families and friends. A new year celebration, and spring.

The sound of laughter and a squeal of delight coming from the estate called him back to the present and back to sanity. His life wasn’t here. It was in New York, or Singapore. His business was apps not vines. Maybe he’d been out in the sun too long. He jumped into the ATV and turned the key in the ignition, secretly relishing the bumpy drive through the vines to the distillery now that the pace wasn’t slowed by the constant filling of the trailer. All men were boys at heart and even he couldn’t deny the joy of driving the ATV.