Page 13 of Blush
“Thank you, Señora Vivian,” Javier said. “I need to go speak to him now. Leah, wonderful to see you.”
Leah watched him head farther into the field, wondering how it waspossible that Javier had a twenty-seven-year-old son. But then, she had her own grown child. They were no longer young. Time was passing too quickly.
“It’s great that Mateo got promoted,” Leah said.
“I only wish your brother put in half the work that Javier’s son puts in. Now he’s distracted with that nightmare girlfriend.”
“Oh, she seems nice enough,” Leah said.
Her mother shot her a look. “Don’t get me started.”
“Why do you still let his girlfriends bother you? Asher is never going to change, but on the plus side, he’s also never going to settle down. Next summer it will be some other Bridget.”
Her mother smiled at her. “Enough about that. Tell me what’s new with you.”
Now was the chance to discuss how difficult she was finding it to have Steven in the cheese shop alongside her every day. Having navigated the family business all these years with her own husband, maybe Vivian would have some advice. Still, she didn’t want to be overly negative. She didn’t want her mother to get the wrong idea—her marriage was fine.
While she searched for the right words, her mother’s phone rang.
“It’s your father,” she said to Leah. Then, into the phone, “Leonard, I’m showing Leah the new vines... What? Now?”
She ended the call, put her phone back in her bag, and sighed.
“I’m needed at the house.” She kissed Leah on the cheek. “You stay. Relax. I’m so happy you’re home.”
Eight
Vivian couldn’t imagine why her husband was calling her back to the house for a meeting. She wasn’t usually consulted on business matters.
To be fair to Leonard, this hadn’t entirely been his decision. When they first bought the winery in 1971 and before they had their winery license, a federal ordinance allowed only a “head of household”—a man—to make wine for private use.
“That’s absurd,” Vivian had said at the time. She hadn’t left everything behind in Manhattan and followed Leonard to the middle of nowhere to be relegated to the sidelines. But winemaking was a man’s world. When she complained to her mother about this, her mother admonished her to “support your husband.” Even though her parents hadn’t approved of Leonard, that hadn’t meant they hadn’t raised Vivian to be a proper wife.
And so she turned her attention to the house. Even before the renovation of the 1980s, she had been filling the house with antique furniture. It began with her fascination with nineteenth-century hunting prints, a way to bring horse imagery into her home décor since she didn’t have time to ride anymore. Working with the architects to design the expansion, she’d requested they build stables; they remained empty to that day.
When her parents died, she inherited some wonderful pieces: aTiffany grandfather clock that held a place of honor in the entrance hall. A mahogany George II bowfront desk from the 1700s. A Federal gilt mirror that hung in her bedroom. The treasures of her home had, over the decades, come to tell a narrative about her life, her family origins, the things that made her happy. If the winery was Leonard’s achievement, the house was her own success story.
The second odd thing about that day’s summons was that meetings were held in the office at the winery, not in their home. Long ago, Vivian and Leonard had made the deliberate decision to establish boundaries between their family and work lives. The walk between the main house and the winery might be only three minutes, but the emotional distance was invaluable.
Vivian climbed the stairs to the library on the second floor. As far as she was concerned, there was no decorative touch that could compete with the beauty of shelves lined with books. But she had made sure all the room’s fixtures were museum quality.
“I certainly hope there’s a good reason for—” She stopped short.
Seated around the table were Leonard, their attorney Harold Feld, their accountant Marty Pritchard, Asher... and Bridget. It took all of Vivian’s self-control and generations of good breeding not to say exactly what she was thinking, which was “What isshedoing here?”
Instead, she took the seat next to Leonard without another word.
“Thanks for joining us, Vivian,” said Marty. “It’s important to Leonard that we all be on the same page here.”
“I’m sorry,” Vivian said, glancing at Bridget and then at Leonard. “If this is a business meeting, it’s family only.”
No one said anything. Asher reached for Bridget’s hand.
“Mom, we haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but Bridgetisfamily: we got engaged late last night.”
Vivian’s eyes moved to Bridget’s left hand. Sure enough, a two-carat diamond in a platinum art deco setting decorated her left ring finger. She recognized it from her late mother-in-law’s collection.
“Engaged?” Vivian said.
