Chapter 29

Juliet found herself replaying the vineyard tour in her mind throughout the week. What had begun as a calculated business ploy, introducing her wines to a rising chef with growing influence in Austin’s restaurant scene, had somehow shifted into something else. The invitation to Sunday dinner had escaped her lips before she’d fully considered the implications, surprising herself as much as it likely surprised him.

“What on earth were you thinking?” she muttered to herself Wednesday evening as she tended to paperwork in the vineyard office. “You barely know him.”

And yet, there had been something different about their conversation in the hacienda’s kitchen. There was a shared understanding that belied their brief acquaintance. The way his eyes had lit up examining the old horno, the insightful questions about traditional cooking methods, the immediate grasp of what made the place special beyond just historical interest. In those moments, Matthew Conner hadn’t seemed like someone she’d just met, but rather a old friend who spoke the same language.

By Sunday morning, Juliet found herself unusually attentive to details as she prepared for the weekly family dinner, changing clothes twice before settling on a simple blue blouse that her cousin Anna once said matched her eyes. These small adjustments to her normal routine were not lost on her when she caught herself checking her hair one last time before leaving her apartment for her parents’ home.

“It’s just dinner,” she said firmly to her reflection. “Professional networking with Harrington’s protégé. Nothing more.”

The Chavez family home sat on the northwest corner of the original ranch land grant. It was a sprawling single-story structure that had grown organically over decades as the family expanded. Unlike the historic hacienda on the vineyard property, this was a living family space, constantly evolving to accommodate changing needs while maintaining essential character. Gardens surrounded the house, both ornamental and practical, with her mother’s extensive herb collection and her father’s prized chili pepper varieties given places of prominence.

When Juliet arrived, the Sunday preparations were already underway. Her mother, Elena, orchestrated the kitchen activities with practiced efficiency, delegating tasks among family members who drifted in and out. Her grandmother, Sophia — now in her eighties but still sharp as the knives she had been sharpening since morning — sat at the kitchen table trimming green beans while dispensing unsolicited advice about proper cooking temperatures to anyone within earshot.

“There’s my vineyard genius,” her father called from the grill area visible through the kitchen window. Antonio Chavez had once been the family’s primary decision-maker in all agricultural matters. In recent years, he had gracefully transitioned to a supporting role as his children took leadership in specific areas. Miguel with the vegetable production, Carlos with business operations, and Juliet with the vineyard that had once been his hobby.

“Papa,” she greeted him with the usual kiss on the cheek and hug. “Need any help with the grilling?”

“All under control,” he assured her, turning the racks of ribs with expert precision. “Your mother said we’re having a guest today? Someone from the restaurant community?”

“Matthew Conner,” Juliet confirmed, trying to maintain a casual tone. “He’s been revitalizing Alma’s. He and James Harrington came to the vineyard last weekend for a wine tasting.”

“Eduardo Vega’s place,” her father nodded with recognition. “Good to hear someone’s maintaining its quality. Your mother and I had our engagement dinner there. Best chile rellenos in Austin back then.”

Her mother appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Is this the young chef Anna mentioned? The one you were strategizing to meet at the farmers market?”

Juliet felt heat rising to her cheeks. “I wasn’t strategizing. I was planning a professional introduction.”

Even to her own ears, the distinction sounded like splitting hairs. Elena exchanged a knowing glance with her mother, who hadn’t looked up from her green beans but was clearly listening to every word.

“Of course, Mija. Professional introductions require special wine selections and three outfit changes.”

“It was two,” Juliet corrected automatically before realizing she’d fallen into her mother’s trap. “And that’s not ... I mean, it’s just...”

“Just dinner,” Elena finished for her with a smile that conveyed complete disbelief. “With a complete stranger you’ve invited to our family table. Something you’ve done so often before.”

Before Juliet could formulate a plausible defense, her grandmother finally joined the conversation.

“When I met your grandfather, I knew within fifteen minutes he was different from other men,” Sophia said, her accented English carrying the wisdom of decades. “Not because he was handsome or charming, but because he looked at our family’s land and saw not just what it was, but what it could become. That kind of vision is rare.”

Juliet wasn’t sure whether to be more frustrated that her grandmother had immediately grasped the parallel to her interaction with Matthew in the hacienda, or that she herself had apparently been so transparent.

“It’s just dinner,” she repeated, with less conviction than before.

Her brothers arrived in quick succession, bringing additional family members: Carlos with his wife and kids, and Miguel with his fiancé. The house filled with the comfortable chaos of family gathering, conversations overlapping as food preparations continued alongside catching up on the week’s events. Juliet found temporary refuge from her mother and grandmother’s knowing looks by helping her niece set the long dining table that accommodated the extended family.

When the doorbell rang announcing Matthew’s arrival, Juliet was simultaneously relieved to escape further family interrogation and suddenly nervous about worlds colliding. The professional persona she maintained in business settings would now meet the more complex reality of her family dynamics.

“I’ll get it,” she called, too quickly, drawing another significant glance between her mother and grandmother.

Matthew stood on the porch holding a small but thoughtfully arranged bouquet of herbs rather than conventional flowers: rosemary, lavender, sage, and other aromatics bound with simple twine.

“For your mother,” he explained, handing her the fragrant bundle. “Anna mentioned at the market that her herb garden is something of a local legend.”

The gesture — practical yet considerate, acknowledging family interests rather than making generic offering — struck Juliet as perfectly calibrated. Of course, he would understand that her mother would appreciate useful herbs over decorative flowers.

“Perfect choice,” she assured him, gesturing him inside. “She’ll be thrilled.”

As they entered the house, Juliet became suddenly aware of how her family might appear to an outsider. The controlled chaos of multiple conversations were happening simultaneously in mixed English and Spanish, children were weaving between adults, and cooking activities spilled beyond kitchen boundaries into what were theoretically distinct spaces. Where she saw normal Sunday function, others sometimes perceived overwhelming intensity.

Yet Matthew showed no sign of being overwhelmed. If anything, he seemed to relax slightly upon entering the active household ... as if the environment was somehow familiar rather than foreign. When introduced to her parents, his manner was respectful without being stiff. He was genuine in his appreciation for being included.

Elena was immediately charmed by the herb bouquet, especially when Matthew demonstrated knowledge of their culinary applications beyond the obvious.

“The Mexican oregano has a completely different aromatic profile than Mediterranean varieties,” he noted, identifying the distinctive herb in her garden collection. “Essential for authentic regional dishes where substitution would change the fundamental character.”

This observation elevated him instantly in Elena’s estimation, her expression shifting from polite hostess to genuine interest.

“You understand the difference? Most chefs just use whatever oregano their supplier provides without recognizing the distinction.”

“I’ve been studying regional ingredient variations since arriving in Texas,” Matthew explained. “Particularly the specific chilies and herbs that define traditional Tex-Mex dishes. Eduardo Vega has been a great teacher.”

The mention of their family friend further warmed the reception, conversation flowing naturally into discussion of Austin’s culinary evolution and the importance of preserving authentic preparations amid trendy innovations. Antonio joined them, drawn by the conversation about traditional ingredients, and soon Matthew was being escorted to the grill area to discuss the specific wood blend Antonio preferred for different meats.

Juliet watched this seamless integration with a mixture of relief and appreciation for how naturally Matthew engaged with her family, not as outsider performing social niceties but as someone genuinely interested in their knowledge and perspectives.

“He has good eyes,” Sophia observed, suddenly beside Juliet as they watched the men at the grill. “Observant. Respectful but not intimidated. Listens more than he speaks.”

Juliet glanced at her grandmother, recognizing the assessment went beyond casual observation. Sophia Chavez had been the family’s unofficial judge of character for decades, her evaluations of people proving remarkably accurate over time.

“He’s had an unusual path,” Juliet said, sharing what little she had learned about Matthew’s background. “Self-taught initially, then formal training, diverse kitchen experiences before coming to Austin. Not the typical career path for a chef.”

Sophia nodded as if this confirmed something she had already intuited. “People who find their own way rather than following established paths, often develop deeper understanding. They see connections others miss because they haven’t been told what to look for.”

Before Juliet could explore this observation further, Elena called everyone to the table. The seating arrangement — which Juliet belatedly realized had been subtly engineered by her mother — placed Matthew between her and her grandmother, positioning him for maximum exposure to the family member most likely to draw out meaningful conversation.

As dishes began circulating around the table in the controlled chaos of Chavez family dining, Sophia wasted no time with her usual direct questioning.

“So, Matthew, Juliet tells me you were quite taken with our old hacienda kitchen,” she began, passing him a platter of her special chilies rellenos before he could respond. “My grandmother cooked for the entire ranch in that kitchen when I was a girl. Twenty cowboys, three meals a day, all from that wood fire and horno.”

“It’s an extraordinary space,” Matthew replied with evident sincerity. “The kitchen design reflects generations of practical wisdom; natural ventilation, heat management ... all passed down mother to daughter, I’d bet.”

“Exactly!” Sophia’s approval was immediate and unequivocal. “Not like these modern kitchens designed by people who never cook, with everything spread out so you walk miles just to make a simple meal.”

She gestured dismissively toward her daughter’s relatively contemporary kitchen, though the critique was clearly good-natured rather than genuine complaint.

“The integration of indoor and outdoor cooking space was particularly impressive,” Matthew continued, clearly warming to a subject that genuinely interested him. “The way the kitchen opens to the courtyard, the placement of the horno to utilize prevailing breeze patterns while protecting from stronger winds; it’s a practical design infused by a deep understanding of both cooking needs and environmental conditions.”

Sophia nodded vigorously, visibly delighted to find someone who appreciated details usually overlooked by casual observers.