Page 38 of Tempt Me

“Yeah, but things are different for us now,” Al insists.

Dad glares at him. “Meaning what.”

Al and Daisy glance at each other. No one wants to say it out loud.

Fuck it.

“Because Mom’s death hangs over the estate like a black cloud,” I say. Everyone at the table freezes. Dad’s jaw looks like it’s been carved in stone.

“And what exactly would you know about that?” he says. His voice is icy-soft and sends a shiver up my spine. “You have not been here.”

“I stopped by the lodge today. It was maybe half full. We used to have people waiting for a table. It’s July, for god’s sake. This is supposed to be peak season.”

“And you think this sustainability nonsense will somehow solve that problem?” Dad sneers.

“It isn’t nonsense,” I say sharply.

“I thought you did not wish to be involved in the estate any longer.”

“I don’t,” I say. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Daisy says.

Dad ignores her. “You are not helping. You cannot have it both ways. If you really want to help, you will abandon this sustainability rubbish, stop raising chickens in Argentina, and come back to accept your role at Everton.”

“My role,” I spit. “You mean doing whatever you say and following all your rules. You haven’t changed at all, have you? Still trying to control everything and everyone. Didn’t Mom’s death teach you anything, Dad?You don’t have control. The more you try to clutch it, the more it slips through your fingers.”

“You will not speak to me?—”

“I’ll speak to you however I damn well want!” I cry, standing. Von leans back, startled and Daisy’s eyes are so wide I can see whites all around her blue irises. “All your rules, all your fucking rules…you won’t do this, you will do that. Show you’re serious about the winery, but no not like that, only in the wayIsay. Come to meetings but don’t talk. Don’t disagree. The only opinions I got to have were yours. That’s why I left, Dad! You were going to hamstring me so tight, I’d never be myself. I’d never make a decision on my own ever again. Who does that to their own child? Mom was the only real parent we had.” I feel the rage building in me, reaching a tipping point. “You act like you have all this power, and yet you still don’t know who took her from us! Why do you think I came back here in the first place? It was forher,Dad! You let her case go fucking cold!”

I hadn’t realized I blamed my father for that until this moment. But I do. All the wealth and power he’s accumulated over the years and for what? It’s useless. Mom’s gone and no one seems any closer to figuring out who took her from us than they did five years ago.

Dad looks like I’ve slapped him. For a moment, he’s utterly speechless.

My siblings look shocked too. I wonder if nobody talks about this. Like they all pretend it’s fine Mom’s killer has never been brought to justice. Even Daisy making the pasta sauce feels new—the first time Mom has been willingly brought into this house again.

I storm out of the dining room before Dad can catch his breath. I feel awake for the first time in ages. My skin burns like I’ve got a fever. Maybe I do. The shell around me is cracking open and whatever is emerging is raw and angry.

I stalk through the kitchen and out the back door. Down the stairs, past the pool, and this time I ignore the rhododendrons beckoning me. I stride up to the tiny shed, its teal door chipped in some places, its red roof shining pale pink in the moonlight. I put my hand on the knob and take a breath.

I willnotbe afraid of this place like the rest of my family is.

As I step across the threshold, it’s like stepping back in time. The interior is dipped in silver, the dappled bay glittering like a coin outside the large window that takes up most of the back wall. The glass is pristine, all trace of the violence that happened here erased.

Mom’s pottery wheel is still in the same position, the stool sitting in front of it like it’s just waiting for her to come back. The bookshelf is still crammed with trinkets. Some things have been removed, probably by the crime scene unit. But mostly, it’s untouched. Just like Daisy said.

I inhale the scent of clay and metal, mixed with the staleness of dust. I remember all the times I would hang out with her here, talking about the town, or bemoaning the fights I was having with my siblings, or working through arguments with Dad. I loved being in this crammed, cluttered space that didn’t care about rules or order. She feels so present here. Like if I turned around, I’d see her standing behind me, that warm smile on her face. Maybe a smudge of clay on her cheek. Her red hair knotted and held in a bun by a pencil.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper, my throat tight. “I’m sorry I abandoned you. I’m sorry whoever did this got away. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

I stand there in silence for what seems like hours. The only sound that answers me is the faint thump of my own heart.

“I’ll find them,” I vow to her, as if saying the words out loud will make them come true. “I’ll find out who killed you and bring them to justice. I swear it.”

I wake up the next morning and text Noah, asking him to come over on his lunch break.

He shows up around noon. Daisy is at the lodge and Finn and Alistair are with Dad in the city. I’m in the kitchen, sitting at the enormous marble island with a cup of coffee and some of the files Fred Norman sent over printed out in a stack in front of me when he pokes his head in.

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