Page 74 of Cherished Lands
My mother stood on the porch, clutching her Hermès bag with trembling fingers. Her Chanel suit was immaculate as always, but her eyes were red-rimmed when she pulled off her designer sunglasses.
"Theresa. I was hoping we could talk." Her voice was thin and strained.
I stood dumbfounded, holding the door open.
Mom's eyes darted over my shoulder, no doubt looking at Emma and Chase, who were standing in the kitchen with equally shocked expressions.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I took a chance. I figured if you weren't, Mrs. Everton might be able to point me in the right direction."
Before I knew it, Emma was at my side. "Please, call me Emma. Why don't you come on in?"
Back in the kitchen, Chase muttered something about checking the barn and disappeared. Emma, bless her,immediately put on tea and pulled out her fresh-baked banana bread.
We settled at the kitchen table. My mother wrapped manicured fingers around a delicate teacup—Emma had brought out the guest china. A manila envelope sat between us like a bomb waiting to go off.
"I've known for years that your father's accounting was... creative." Mom's voice was no more than a whisper. "But this morning I found proof of exactly how far he's gone."
She pushed the envelope toward me. Inside were years of financial records, bank statements, and what looked like two sets of books for Vintage Point.
"He's sullied everything my family built." The bitterness in my mother's voice took me aback. "Three generations of Ashworths made Vintage Point what it is, and he's turned it into his personal piggy bank."
I stared at the documents, my stomach churning. This was ammunition—exactly what we needed to stop Dad's attacks on Ever Eden. But using it would mean destroying Vintage Point itself.
"Mom..." I looked up at her, really seeing her for the first time in years. "What do you want me to do with this?"
Her perfectly lined lips quivered. "I don't know, Theresa. I just... I couldn't keep pretending anymore. Not when he's threatening you, too."
Emma's hand found my shoulder, and I leaned into her touch, grateful for her support. I was facing an impossible choice. I loved Vintage Point. The place was a part of me, my birthright, my identity. But did I love it more than what I wasbuilding here? The cidery represented a chance to strike out on my own. A new life with my new?—
"Why don't you just divorce him?" The question burst out before I could stop it.
Her laugh was hollow. "It's complicated, sweetheart. Your father has... arrangements. With people who aren't exactly legitimate business partners. If I leave, if these records become public... Let's just say there are people who would be very unhappy."
Jesus Christ, Dad.
"So he's involved with, what? The?—"
"Don't." She cut me off sharply. "The less you know about that part, the better." Despite her best efforts, her cup clattered against the saucer as she set it down. "Thank you for the tea, Emma. It was lovely."
Mom stood from her chair. I walked her to the door where she surprised me by pulling me into a fierce hug. "I'm proud of you," she whispered. "For getting out. For building something of your own."
Then she was gone, leaving me with an envelope full of secrets and a head full of questions.
"Come sit." Emma patted the couch beside her. When I sank down, she put an arm around my shoulders. "I recognize the patterns."
"Patterns?"
"The way your father isolates people. Uses money as a weapon. Makes everything seem like it's your fault, or your mother's fault, or anyone's fault but his." Something dark flickered across Emma's face. "I've seen what men like that can do to a family."
"But Mom's stronger than that. She runs Vintage Point's entire operation."
"And yet she's never had real control of it, has she? Your father makes sure of that."
The truth of it hit me hard. Every decision at the vineyard, every promotion, every change—it all went through Ray Belmonte first.
Just like he was trying to control me through this lawsuit.
