The hanging was predominantly green, every shade of green, but there were many tiny touches of other colours. Pretty pinks peeped out close to the edges, then further in, she saw hints of mauve and purple and splashes of yellow and orange. It was a beautifully crafted patchwork. She thought about taking a picture of it then remembered she didn’t have her phone. She’d definitely have to do something about getting a new one today.

She went closer to the hanging and examined the fine detail that made up the bigger picture. Among the strips of fabric there were beautiful threads and delicate beads. Hours of work must have gone into making it. She looked back towards the window. Whoever had created the hanging had cherished the view from this room and cleverly reproduced it.

* * *

Flynn revved the throttle on his bike and roared up the drive. His father’s explanation, that the woman in his bed was a guest recuperating from an operation, only infuriated him more. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the story, but now he’d behaved like an idiot in front of a stranger. He berated himself for it. He was usually so calm, in control; he hated the fact that his temper had got the better of him.

Flynn slowed at the gate and stopped to look again at the freshly painted sign. Euan hadn’t been happy about that, or the newly gravelled driveway, and there were several other things he didn’t know about yet. Flynn revved the bike again and pulled out onto the road. Too bad, someone had to face the future and make decisions. While Euan had been off finding himself, Flynn had been left behind to deal with reality, again.

Of course, the ever-reliable Hugh was always there. His skills with the vines were indispensable, and Maggie tried to help. Flynn respected her opinion and she did own a small share but, ultimately, the business belonged to him and his father. They should be planning together for the future.

Euan wanted to hold on to the past and keep Levallier Dell as a quaint little winery with a select clientele. Flynn knew it wasn’t enough anymore. Margaret River had any number of wineries now. The competition was stiff and Levallier Dell needed to make changes to survive. He had his own ideas on that but Euan wasn’t interested.

He eased back on the throttle as he approached the bitumen road ahead. He was tired. Sick of spending his nights alone at the house. The night before he’d gone out with some mates and camped overnight at their place. They’d drunk a fair bit and it had hardly seemed any time between crawling into bed and getting up to come home and check on things this morning. Why had he bothered? He could still be at his mates’ place, asleep.