The Maxwell Sisters

‘You are cordially invited to the wedding of Phoebe and Christopher …'

All families have their problems. No more so than the Maxwells of Tawny Brooks Winery. Situated in the heart of the Margaret River wine region, this world-renowned winery was the childhood home to three sisters, Natasha, Eve and Phoebe.

Today all three women are enmeshed in their city lives and eager to forget their past – and their fractured sibling relationships. Until Phoebe decides to get married at home …

Now the sisters must return to face a host of family obligations, vintage in full swing and interfering in-laws who just can't take a hint. As one romance blossoms and others fall apart, it seems they are all in need of some sisterly advice.

But old wounds cut deep. Somehow, the Maxwell sisters must find a way back to one another – or risk losing each other forever.

The Maxwell Sisters
is a heartwarming romantic comedy about three extraordinary women on a journey to find love and rediscover family.

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Acknowledgements

Author's Note

About the Author

Also by Loretta Hill

The Grass is Greener

Praise for Loretta Hill

Copyright Notice

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Most recipients of the gold-gilded invitation were pleased and excited to receive it. A wedding in the heart of the Margaret River wine region. How decadent! They RSVP'd promptly, marked the date on their calendars and boasted about the upcoming event to their friends.

No one thought for a moment that such a welcome proposal would cause anyone to fly into a blind panic, least of all the sisters of the bride, who would no doubt be taking prominent places in the wedding party. But this was exactly how both women felt upon drawing the impressive card from its white satin envelope.

Fear.

Horror.

And more than a little desperation.

Natasha Maxwell received her invitation first. At thirty years old, she was the eldest of the Maxwell sisters and currently unemployed. She was home when the postman pulled up outside her house in suburban Sydney. At the sound of his motor bike, she hauled herself up onto her elbows from a lying position on the couch and watched him through a large bay window. This gorgeous piece of architecture had been designed and constructed, like the rest of the house, by the building company that employed her husband, a man she had not seen or spoken to in seven months. She peered across her flawlessly manicured lawn to where a terribly clichéd house-shaped letterbox was being stuffed with an oversized card. It wasn't her birthday and she had no expectations of parties in her future … except one. She stiffened.

Oh no! It's here.

Already!

Natasha pushed the gossip magazine off her chest, where it fell, forgotten, onto the floor amongst myriad other discarded items that had been lying there for weeks. Chocolate bar wrappers, overdue rental DVDs and library books. The television was on and the usual daytime talk show nattered away in the background. She wasn't watching it. She just liked a bit of white noise playing because it made her feel less lonely. Her laptop was open on the coffee table so that she could hear and respond immediately to any job interview requests that might come through. Not that there had been any that day, or even recently. The market, along with her career, had taken a turn for the worse with no sign of recovery.

Swinging her legs off the couch, she sprinted to the front door. In a moment she was through, running across the lawn, hoping to be proved wrong. Surely Phoebe intended to be engaged for just a little bit longer. It had only been three months since she'd called with the news. She remembered clutching the phone in fear as her sister's excitement filtered through.

‘Engaged! Can you believe it, Tash? I never thought this would happen to me.'

Natasha had tried to be supportive and animated by the news. After all, what were big sisters for? Phoebe had been there for her when she got married, a gorgeous bridesmaid in dark green satin. Thinking back on that day, Natasha flinched. Everything was different now.

Her marriage was over.

But Phoebe didn't know that.

Natasha had made the deliberate decision not to tell anyone about it until she'd healed a little. Maybe once she'd got a job and a few new achievable life goals.
Then
, when she did reveal what she had been through this past year to her family, she wouldn't look like such a basket case. Because if there was one thing Natasha Maxwell couldn't be, it was vulnerable. Of all the Maxwells, she prided herself on being the one with her head firmly on her shoulders. The one who made the right decisions – always. She was a smart, dependable high-achiever who had it all.

At least she had been.

It had actually been quite easy to keep the change in her circumstances quiet. The rest of her family lived in Western Australia. So keeping up appearances was a matter of only a couple of vague phone calls a month. One to Phoebe and the other to her over-anxious Greek mum, who could make a drama out of anything, and often did.

In fact, her secret had been quite safe … until Phoebe's announcement.

‘Can you imagine it?' her sister had gushed over the phone. ‘A wedding. The whole family together again. Mum's going mental. It's been too long, Tash! I miss you guys.'

‘I miss you too.' The answer was mechanical, almost wishful.

Phoebe didn't notice. ‘We're going to have heaps of fun. I can't wait.'

Natasha had to smile at her little sister's characteristic childlike wonder. She was the bubbliest, most optimistic person Natasha knew. Even as a child, she remembered Phoebe's school teachers remarking on how happy she was all the time. She was such a hopeful spirit. All she ever wanted was for everyone around her to enjoy life as much as she did.

‘So how's your fiancé taking all this?' Natasha asked.

‘Oh, you know, he's just his usual fantastic self. Happy to let me make all the big decisions – about venue, time, theme. He just wants to get married as soon as possible. I'm thinking March.'

‘Really? So soon?' She hoped Phoebe hadn't heard the tremor in her voice. After all, seven months was enough time to safely secure another job and get her head screwed on straight again.

Are you sure?

She'd already been at it for over four months with no such luck.

Natasha bit her lip nervously as Phoebe's voice became breathless. ‘I know it's fast, but we're just too excited, you know? I mean, this must be how you felt when you and Heath got engaged.'

Regret coiled like a snake in her belly and for a second she was robbed of words.

Luckily, Phoebe filled in the blanks. ‘When you meet the right person, you just don't want to wait.'

Natasha knew exactly what her sister meant. When Heath had proposed to her seven years ago, she had been light-headed with joy. One starlit night on a deserted beach, he'd whispered, ‘I can't see my future without you, Tash. Be my wife, will you?'

It had been the best day of her life.

She quickly shifted her thoughts away from Heath and said lightly, ‘You're right, tie the knot quick before he finds out about the Maxwell “crazy” gene.'

There was a knowing giggle on the other end of the line. ‘Somehow I think he already knows about that.'

It had been a long-standing joke between the sisters, and indeed the entire town of Yallingup, that everyone in the Maxwell family tree had a little bit of crazy in them – some personal idiosyncrasy or fanatical obsession that would set them apart from the norm. It usually manifested itself in their passions, making them go that one step further than any sane person would usually venture. Some Maxwells had destroyed their lives on a deranged punt while others had become amazingly successful.

Take their father, for instance. The owner and founder of Tawny Brooks Wines – a worldwide success story. Johnathan Maxwell had always been crazy about grapes. His winemaking neighbours said he was as mad as a cut snake because he refused to use tried and true modern methods. No insecticides or machine harvesting. He believed that plant growth and fertility was irrevocably connected to the rhythm of the cosmos. He played music to his vines and let the moon be his guide. As far as the neighbours were concerned, the man was clearly unhinged but no one could doubt his methods worked amazingly well.

‘So I was thinking …' Phoebe's voice broke through Natasha's thoughts. ‘Will you be one of my bridesmaids?'

Natasha licked her lips nervously. ‘I guess so.' She didn't want to jump headfirst into this pool without a life jacket, but couldn't see another option.

There was a groan. ‘Is it my imagination or do you sound about as enthusiastic as a vegetarian in front of a steak?'

‘Sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that. Of course I'm thrilled. I'm just a little distracted right now.'

‘Really? With what?'

With the fact that the last thing she wanted to attend was a family event where every move she made and word she spoke would be scrutinised, especially by her over-protective mother. She had wanted more time to deal with her situation before allowing her family to wade in, and wade in they would whether she liked it or not. She knew they simply wouldn't be able to keep their opinions or recommendations to themselves.

‘Is this about Eve?' Phoebe asked Tash, reminding her of the long-standing argument between herself and the middle Maxwell sister. An argument that now seemed so insignificant compared with everything else that was going on in her life.

‘No, this is not about Eve.'

‘Because,' Phoebe said sternly, ‘in case you're wondering, I have asked her to be my bridesmaid as well and I expect you two to get along.'

‘Really?' Natasha returned lightly. ‘But she hates the limelight.'

‘Well, I don't want anyone else,' Phoebe said firmly. ‘I want both my sisters standing by my side when I marry the man of my dreams.'

Natasha's mouth curled. ‘What did Eve say to that?'

Phoebe gave a defensive sounding snort. ‘Well –' she hedged.

‘She said she didn't want to, didn't she?'

‘Eve saying no?' Phoebe scoffed. ‘Don't be ridiculous. She said … she said she'd rather bake the wedding cake instead.'

Eve was a sous chef at a top restaurant in Perth – so this offer wasn't exactly ungenerous. In fact, Natasha was rather impressed with this clever move because Eve had always been a ‘yes' girl. She didn't know how to say ‘no' to anyone. For her to make even the slightest hesitation must mean she really wanted out. A dull ache entered Natasha's already battered heart. Was the rift between them really as bad as all that?

‘So did you take her up on it?' she asked Phoebe tentatively.

‘I said she could do both.'

Natasha's jaw dropped open. ‘
Phoebe!
'

‘Well, I'm sick and tired of you two carrying on like this. It's high time you girls were forced to do something together so you can sort out your issues. I don't want to play piggy-in-the-middle any more.'

‘Do you really want to risk your wedding on that?'

‘That's exactly what I'm going to do,' Phoebe announced passionately, making Natasha both smile and cringe.
The ruthless optimist strikes again.
Phoebe definitely wanted ‘happy'. And if she couldn't get it any other way she was going to get it by force.

‘I just feel like if I can get the two of you in the same room again then maybe I can have my sisters back.' Phoebe's voice was small but hopeful. ‘Even without the terrible argument you guys had, we haven't been as close in recent years. Eve and I seem to have lost that bond we used to have. Do you remember how we were as kids, Tash? Nothing could separate us.'

‘I know,' Natasha said sadly.

‘Dad used to say we were his best blend.'

‘I remember.'

They'd always been so tight. When one sister was in trouble they'd all get together to nut out the problem. They were a bank of secrets. A book of adventures. A catalogue for embarrassing moments. They even had a secret phrase: ‘Club members only'.

She closed her eyes as Phoebe's soft voice sounded in her ears again. ‘So why are you holding on to a fight you had nearly a year ago?'

Natasha sighed. It was really all about timing. Right after her massive argument with Eve, all the upheaval in her own life had started, including the complete and utter breakdown of her marriage. By the time she realised she was no longer talking to Eve, months had already ticked by and the chessboard pieces were all in different places. Anger had become silence. Silence had become habit. And now that it was so ingrained she didn't know where to start.

She cleared her throat. ‘I was kinda hoping Eve might make the first move.'

‘Come on, Tash,' Phoebe replied crossly. ‘You were the one making all the accusations at the time. You can't expect her not to have some pride.'

Natasha bit her lip. It was true, of course. She had told Eve she was a selfish coward who should face up to her responsibilities, not run away and hide from them. Now looking at her own life, she had to snort in derision. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! ‘I … I guess I do owe Eve an apology.'

‘That's the spirit,' Phoebe encouraged her. ‘Maybe when you and Heath fly to WA for the wedding, you can talk to Eve about it.'

The mention of her estranged husband brought reality screeching in like a train.

‘How is he, by the way?'

‘Who?' Natasha muttered distractedly as the squealing in her ears diminished.

Phoebe giggled. ‘Heath, of course.'

‘Er …' She swallowed. ‘Busy.'

She didn't know this for a fact but it was a good guess. When Heath's boss had suggested the transfer to Melbourne where there was more work, it had seemed like a good opportunity for a trial separation. And it had been working well. They weren't fighting any more … at least.

However, if she were truly honest with herself, it felt like the guts of her life had been ripped out. Natasha spent most of her days reliving scenes from her past. Old arguments they'd had when she either regretted saying something or wished she hadn't said so much. Her distraction had not gone unnoticed by the managing director of Gunnings Food Group, a confectionery company where she'd headed up the marketing department. ‘As much as I like you, Natasha, I can't afford to continue to pay you if you can't get any work done.'

So she'd started making promises. Promises she couldn't keep. Poor concentration and a lacklustre campaign had eventually cost her her job. Now she was surviving on savings but telling all her friends she was too busy to catch up with them.

‘Tash, is something going on with you?' Her sister's voice was in her ear again like an annoying fly. ‘I feel like you're not listening to a word I'm saying.'

‘Of course I'm listening.' Natasha tried to inject a little indignation into her tone.

‘Then what did I just say?'

‘Um …'

‘I rest my case.' Phoebe was unimpressed. ‘Mum said you were acting a little distant with her last week too when she called.'