Page 28 of Meet Me in the Vines
I notice my mouth agape, and I shut it closed before probing Pop for more information.
“What happened with the Taylors?” I ask, at a loss. Clearly, I have no pulse with news in Oakwood Valley or the wine world. Between Kellan’s short leash and my social media aversion, if something happens back home, I’m the last to know about it.
Pop takes another sip before speaking.
“Turns out Duke Taylor had substantial investments in various sectors outside the wine business. He got arrested for insider trading and tipping. The man was found guilty on all charges when it went to court. He’s been in prison since…well, since we bottled this wine from the barrel,” he says matter-of-factly, raising his glass to the light to admire its color.
My mouth drops at this news. If Duke Taylor is in prison, what happened to Jess? We never liked each other, but I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. I know all too well what having a destructive dad is like.
“As part of the legal proceedings, the court ordered a seizure of Duke’s assets, including the Taylor Winery and Vineyard.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I gasp out loud. “Oh my god!”
“Their vineyard went to auction after his prison sentence. Twenty years. The list of charges was endless and a lot of money was involved. That’s all I know.”
I’m shaken to my core. This is massive news. My mind races as I take in this information. Duke Taylor is in jail. Jess is who knows where. Donovan is carrying crates of our wine. And why the hell did Caleb King cut ties with my family in the first place?
“I have so many questions, but first, who took the vineyard?” I ask.
“Once it went to auction, it took several years to get everything in order because of how large the case was. A wealthy wine family from Holly Hill put a bid on it during the pandemic and won.”
This is so much information. I’m trying to eat, drink, and process at the same time, but it’s overwhelming. My mind keeps flickering back to Jess and her whereabouts, like a game ofWhere in the World is Carmen Sandiego.
“What happened to Jess Taylor?”
Pop shrugs his shoulders and purses his lips.
“No idea, kid. Last I heard, Jess and her mother fled California after Duke’s sentencing,” he replies, cutting the crust off his sandwich. Just like Gran used to do for him.
Wow, that’s not how I imagined her life going. I guess others could say the same for me, too. I was living a lie, and no one knew. Jess and I aren’t all that different in the end.
This still doesn’t add up with Caleb, though. I can’t help but wonder, what does Donovan think of all this? And more than that, why do I care about what Donovan thinks?
Focus, Audrey.
“Pop, I don’t understand why Caleb cut ties in the first place. Did he ever explain outside of wanting to shift directions?” I prod, burning for answers.
None of this makes sense. My brain can’t put the pieces together, like the synapses aren’t synapsing. I rub my temples and take another sip of wine. Yeah, more wine should do it. Bottoms up.
“Caleb and I have always had respect for each other. It was a business decision, and I respected it. The winery was doing okay after we parted with the Kings,” he reassures me, taking a sip before moving on. “We got to work with other great vineyards in neighboring towns and made good wine in those years,” he beams, clearly proud of the work he puts in as a winemaker. He’s trying to make light of this for me, but it all feels too heavy for me to carry.
“I’m sorry, Pop. I didn’t mean for the Spanish Inquisition. I’ve been gone for so long. I feel guilty for not being here to help you and Gran. And now she’s gone, and I never got to say goodbye.” My voice cracks as my eyes well up, staring into my wine glass—the only piece of Gran I have left. Pop scoots closer to me, draping his arm around my shoulder.
“Your Gran and I were fine. We knew you had dreams to chase in New York. Sure, you could’ve called more, but we could’ve too. It’s on us too.”
His eyes look sorry, and I pull him in for another hug because I need it.
“Well, I’m here now for you. And Gran.” I raise my glass for a toast. Pop does the same, our glasses clinking together.
“I know you are,” he sniffs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Now, I have something for you. Wait here.”
I give him a quizzical look as I take another bite of my sandwich. I swivel in my barstool, watching him enter another room and come out with his hands behind his back.
“What you got there, Pop? No gifts.” I wipe the corner of my mouth with a napkin and place my hands on my lap.
“Your Gran wanted you to have this.” He reaches for my hand and opens my palm, placing a silver key with a lavender silk ribbon tied to it. I lift it up, examining it to see if I recognize it, but I don’t.
“A key? A key for what?”
