Page 65 of A Vintage of Regret
The truth of that statement hung in the air like smoke.
“I do remember happy times as a kid,” Erin said. “But there was always this undercurrent of things not being good enough. Of mom wanting things to be different. I didn’t understand back then. I remember Dad wanting to change careers. Wanting to work here. But mom didn’t like the prospect. Not unless it was in sales. Something that would bring in moneyandrespect.
Then, Dad was gone. She always said he was the one who left, but we all knew why he did. Mom and Parker…” Erin trailed off, then shook her head. “I like Parker. He’s a good man. But doesn’t have much of a backbone. Does whatever Mom tells him to. Anyway, I just hope she’s not making all this worse. We all know how she can get. Mom spinning her weird version of the truth is the last thing Grant needs.”
Riley swirled the wine in her glass. She’d never heard Erin speak this truthfully about her mother. It was refreshing, yet, at the same time, it was depressing as hell. “The problem is, there is so much stacked against Grant. I don’t believe the evidence, but the optics aren’t good.”
Kelly’s shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “He’s been battling this alone for so long. It’s been a living hell for him. He’s wanted to talk to someone but was frightened that the second he spoke up, this would be exactly what happened. The letter Sean sent Riley made everything even worse.”
“I wish I hadn’t had Mateo open it,” Riley managed.
“It would’ve made its way here, eventually,” Brea said. “Best Grant be open and honest about everything now, then have something come crawling out of the woodwork later.”
They all went quiet for a moment. The truth was, no one wanted to dwell on any of it—not on the fact that the medical examiner had come in on a Sunday to perform the autopsy, or that Grant’s name hung in the air like smoke no one could quite see but everyone could smell.
Erin leaned forward, as if she could will them back to safer topics. “You know, Nathan’s been begging to play football this fall. His dad’s been practicing with him. We think he’s got potential, but we don’t want to build him up too much. That was so painful for Grant. He thought he was so good.”
Kelly laughed. “Then Bryson waltzed out on that field and tookallthe wind out of Grant’s sails. He realizes now that his mother had given him a false sense of importance.”
“Bryson went to the coach his freshman year and asked if he could sit the bench, giving up the starting position,” Brea said. “He didn’t want to take that from Grant because he was older. And Bryson knew he’d get his time eventually. To him, it was just a game.”
Riley's chest tightened at the revelation. Bryson had been willing to sacrifice his own achievements for Grant—the guy who'd spent years resenting him, who'd made Bryson's life miserable whenever he got the chance. The selfishness of her mother’s actions was staggering, and it made her think of all the times her mother had pitted the young boys against each other, had used competition and comparison as tools to control.
Brea shook her head. “While I thought that was kind of him, he earned that spot, and I told him so. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have done that. We all make mistakes as parents. But most of us are doing the best we can.”
The simple honesty in Brea's admission hit Riley hard. Here was a mother admitting uncertainty, acknowledging that maybe she'd made the wrong call. Riley couldn't remember her own mother ever expressing doubt about a parenting decision—Elizabeth's way was always the right way, the only way, and anyone who disagreed was simply wrong. Her father, though... he'd been different. He'd listened, had admitted when he didn't know something, had apologized when he made mistakes. He'd parented with humility and love, while her mother had wielded motherhood like a weapon, using guilt and manipulation to keep her children in line. The contrast had never felt starker.
The sun’s light deepened, long shadows spilling across the grass. Bryson scooped up Willa and spun her until she shrieked.Devon and Randy tried to dogpile on him, only for him to spin away, laughing.
For all the heart-pounding adventures Riley had experienced, there was nothing in the world like this.
The sound of footsteps on gravel drew her attention toward the side gate. Sandy stepped into view wearing her uniform with her hair pulled into a low ponytail, expression unreadable.
Not even a hint of a smile. That couldn’t be good.
Conversations stilled.
Sandy’s gaze swept the yard and locked onto the glass doors of the office. “I need to speak to Grant,” she said, her voice carrying softly across the patio.
The home office door opened, and Grant stepped out. His brows pulled together at the sight of Sandy. “Hey, Sandy. You’ve got news?”
Sandy’s eyes flicked toward the kids playing in the grass. “Can we speak privately?”
Bryson caught the hint at once and strode across the yard, clapping his hands. “Alright, team—water break inside. And I have it on good authority that there are cookies and ice cream in the kitchen. Let’s go.”
The kids barreled past in a blur, Willa giving Riley a fist bump on her way inside.
When they were gone, Sandy turned back to Grant. “I have some bad news. The medical examiner finished the preliminary autopsy.” She paused, as the weight of that settled. “There’s more to be done. The labs and tox screens will take a week, maybe longer. However, because your father’s death has been ruled suspicious, I need you to come back down to the station.”
Kelly’s hand shot to her mouth. “Suspicious? What does that mean?”
“It means I have more questions for your husband,” Sandy said evenly.
“No,” Riley whispered, grabbing Kelly’s hand.
Erin inched closer, wrapping her arm around Kelly’s waist.
Grant’s expression shuttered, but a flicker of something—fear, disbelief—passed over his face. He looked at Kelly, then back to Sandy. “Am I under arrest?”
