Page 15 of One Last Night

“Gee. Thank you, Luann,” I reply drily.

Instead of a board game, the children coax me into playing video games with them in their room. I perform about as well as I would expect a fifty-three-year-old woman to perform and beg off after one round. I watch the children play and resign myself to the fact that the children of today prefer electronic stimulation to conversation. At least they’re having fun.

I try to focus on that, but in the back of my mind, my worries for this family have returned. After the argument I’ve just witnessed, the idea of Robert sabotaging Victoria’s vineyard or Julian’s winery isn’t so far-fetched anymore.

And with things so heated between the families, how much further will they take this feud? I have been fortunate not to encounter a murder here as I have at so many other positions. But perhaps my luck—and theirs—is running out.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The event ends shortly after dark. I admonish the children to remain in Nathan’s room for the time being. I don’t say aloud that it’s to avoid exposing them to any more pettiness from Julian and Victoria, but they catch on.

“Trust me,” Luann says, “we don’t want to listen to the two of them bitch about the Cartwrights either.”

“That’s not appropriate language for a young lady.” Nathan opens his mouth, and I quickly add, “Or a young man. Just stay in here and don’t worry too much about what the adults do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nathan retorts. “They just pay you. You don’t have to listen to Dad moan about it all the time.”

“I know. I’m truly sorry that the two of you have to deal with it. I’ll talk to Victoria and Julian and impress upon them the importance of leaving you two out of their business.”

“Good luck with that,” Luann says morosely. “In case you couldn’t tell, minding their own business isn’t something either of them are very good at.”

If I were to diagnose the problem with the Bellamys, it would be that they’retooobsessed with their own affairs, but I glean that Luann is referring to the need to hide her relationship with Kevin. I can’t offer much encouragement there, so I leave them and head downstairs to help the rest of the staff clean up.

The servants don’t seem fazed at all by their employers’ behavior. I mention the argument to Grant, and he only chuckles. “Yes, the Bellamys and the Cartwrights have been at each other’s throats ever since Parker’s father purchased Granger Vineyards in nineteen-sixty-nine. It’s become something of a legend here on the island.”

“So they’ve been rivals for over half a century now.”

“Looks that way. From my perspective, there’s no reason for them to be rivals. They’re both successful and wealthy. I’ve never understood why people with everything are so unhappy.”

“It’s the curse of human nature,” I opine. “We always want more. We always believe that once we get what we want, we’ll be happy, but we only end up wanting even more. It’s sad, really.”

Grant raises an eyebrow. “That’s remarkably wise of you, Mary.”

I feel a touch of guilt at the blush that comes to my cheeks, but what Sean doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and in any case, I don’t intend to act on my attraction the way seemingly every Bellamy woman since the Civil War has done.

We finish cleaning an hour after nightfall. Grant and the others thank me for my assistance and retire to bed. I am just as exhausted as they are. Physical labor has never been a strong suit of mine.

I head inside, intending to shower and turn in early. As soon as I walk through the door, though, I hear an argument from the great room. Nathan is arguing with Julian.

I remain in the foyer and listen.

“So I can be miserable like you?”

That is Nathan. His father replies somewhat weakly. “I’m not miserable because of my job, I’m miserable because… I mean, I’mnotmiserable. I’m frustrated with Robert Cartwright over things that are a private matter between us.”

“Yeah, I could tell. You acted like a brat at the wine tasting.”

“Don’t talk to me like…” Julian pauses for breath, then says in a tightly controlled voice. “I apologize. I know that my behavior wasn’t ideal, but—”

“Not ideal? You two were like children. Don’t act like you weren’t.”

“This has nothing to do with Robert Cartwright! This is about you and your future.”

“Yeah.Myfuture. Not yours.”

“Don’t be naïve, son. Winemaking has been a part of our family for generations.”

“I’m happy for it,” Nathan quips.

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