For Love And Family

The Scott Household

The Scott family’s house sat at the edge of Napa Valley. It was a small, one-story ranch with peeling paint and a porch that creaked when you step on it. It looked nothing like the fancy Ellington estate on the hill.

Bella sat at the kitchen table, her sketchbook open in front of her. Her pencil moved quickly, sketching the shape of a vineyard hill. But her mind wasn’t on her drawing, it was stuck on Ryan Ellington’s hazel eyes, the way he smiled, the way he’d looked at her like she wasn’t just another Scott. She was twenty-two, still full of dreams, though her family was weighed down by bitterness. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and she wore an old sweater with paint stains and faded jeans. She didn’t look like the polished daughter her mother, Grace, wished she was. Bella glanced at the clock. 7:15 a.m. Any minute now, the usual morning fight between her parents would begin.

Her father, Vincent Scott, fifty-two, walked in, moving slowly like he hadn’t slept. His flannel shirt was wrinkled, and his hair stuck up. He looked tired. He poured himself coffee without looking at Bella.

“You’re up early,” he said, more of observation than greeting.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied lightly, closing her sketchbook before he saw the drawing, and the tiny sketch of Ryan’s eyes in the corner.

Then Grace walked in, she was still beautiful at forty-nine, with high cheekbones and her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. But there was something restless in her eyes. Her blouse was a little out of fashion, and that bothered her more than she’d admit.

“Vincent, the bank called again,” she said sharply. “We’re late on the loan. Again.”

Vincent didn’t look up. “I’m handling it, Grace.”

Grace laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Like you handled the supplier who dropped us yesterday? Or the distributor who’s getting friendly with the Ellingtons?” She dropped her purse on the counter with a loud bang. “We’re sitting on a gold mine with that winery, and you’re letting it fall apart.”

The winery win elavated the Scotts name, but it also brought a lot of trouble. They had the vineyard, but not the peace that should’ve come with it.

Vincent finally looked at Grace. His voice was low but firm. “I’m not selling. That winery is our legacy. My father fought for that land. I won’t let Richard Ellington take it back.”

Grace crossed her arms. “Legacy doesn’t pay the bills. The Ellingtons live in luxury while we’re stuck in this... cabin.” She looked around the kitchen with disgust. “We deserve better, Vincent.”

Bella’s chest hurt. She hated this argument. She wanted to tell them that the winery wasn’t worth them tearing each other apart over pride. But she stayed quiet. She knew better than to speak up. Instead, she opened her sketchbook again, pretending to focus, her pencil tracing meaningless lines.

Grace turned her sharp gaze on Bella. “And you, why aren’t you getting ready? You should be at the winery helping your father, not doodling like a child.”

“It’s not doodling,” Bella said softly. “It’s my work.”

“Your work?” Grace scoffed. “Art doesn’t keep the lights on. You need to think about your future, not silly fantasies.”

Vincent rubbed his forehead. “Let her be, Grace. She’s still young. Let her have her dream.”

“Dreams won’t fix this mess,” Grace snapped. “Richard Ellington is already spreading lies about us. He wants that winery back, and we’re handing it to him.”

At the sound of Ryan’s last name, Bella’s heart skipped. She thought of his smile, the way he’d stood close enough to her for her to feel his warmth. She pushed the feeling away. Her parents would lose it if they knew she’d even spoken to an Ellington.

Vincent stood, placing his mug in the sink. “I’m meeting Ben Morgan today,” he said, referring to the family’s lawyer. “He’s got some ideas to help the winery. We’ll get through this, Grace. We’ll be fine.”

“You’d better hope so,” Grace said. “I’m tired of living like this.”

As Vincent left, Bella quickly packed her sketchbook into her bag. “I’m going to the library,” she said, before Grace could ask anything. It wasn’t true. She was going to a local café where she could draw in peace and, maybe, just maybe, see Ryan again. Her heart beat faster at the thought.

“The library? Now?” Grace asked.

“I’ve got research to do,” Bella said, her voice calm despite the lie. “For a project.”

Grace didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “Fine. But be home for dinner. We’re meeting with Ben tonight, and I want you looking presentable.”

“I will,” Bella said, already halfway out the door.

The house behind her sometimes felt more like a cage than a home. She loved her parents, but their focus on the winery, on beating the Ellingtons, made everything so heavy.

As she walked down the gravel path towards town, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from her best friend, Lila: Are you okay after last night? I saw you talking to that guy. Spill.

Bella smiled and replied quickly, "Just a chat." Nothing big.

She didn’t want to tell Lila about Ryan yet. She reached the café, a cozy little spot between a bookstore and a bakery. Bella sat at a corner table; all she could think about were Ryan’s words: Does that mean we’re supposed to hate each other?

She’d laughed at the time, but now the question stuck in her head. Could they ever be more than just enemies in the eyes of Napa?

Across the valley, Vincent sat in his old pickup truck outside the winery. He stared at the sign that read “Scott Vineyards.” It had been his father’s pride, but now it felt more like a burden. The bills were piling up. The equipment outdated. And Richard Ellington was making moves again, spreading rumors and trying to squeeze them out.

Vincent thought of Bella, her calm strength, the way her drawings captured the heart of the valley. He wanted a better life for her, but the vineyard was all he had. He wasn’t going to give it up.