Page 82 of A Vintage of Regret
He sighed. “Trying to get rid of me?”
“No. It’s not that.” She closed the book, setting it on the table. “I just don’t want you to get behind just because of what’s been going on. I appreciate it, but your life shouldn’t have to change.”
“What’s happening affects me, and not only because I care about you, or because my family opened up our home. Sean was my friend.” Bryson tapped his chest. “There’s a big hole here, and I need to know what happened.” He took her hand, kissing the inside of her palm. “My mind keeps wandering to dark and dangerous places. I try to redirect, but it always lands on the same disturbing thought.”
“I don’t like believing the worst of my mother.” She stared out into the bright blue sky. “It’s one thing to know she lied and manipulated her way through life. I’ve seen that part of her for as long as I can remember. But to have a hand in my father’s death? It’s… it’s… I struggle to accept that my mom could do such a thing.”
“So do I.” He reached out and pressed his palm against her cheek. “We’re making assumptions, and that’s dangerous. We need to let the ME and Sandy find the answers, while we try to focus on other things. Happier things. Like, having your siblings back in your life. Spending time with your nieces and nephews.” He waved his hand. “All this.”
“The view is spectacular. And it does calm me. Always has,” she said softly. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you and your sisters plan on living in this house for the rest of your lives?”
He chuckled. “My sisters will eventually move out when they find the right man to share their lives with. But for now, they don’t want to.” Bryson jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “For me, living here makes my life easier. I wake up, walk out the back door, stroll through the vines, and have early meetings with my dad, other staff, and my siblings. I have an office here. The house is so massive, I could honestly go days without seeing my family if it weren’t for the fact that we enjoy breakfast or a nightcap together.” He leaned closer. “And if I’m being honest, it’s keptwomen away. Who wants to date a thirty-one-year-old who lives with his parents?”
“I can’t tell if that last part is a joke or not.”
He shook his head. “My track record hasn’t been very good, and I’ve learned that it’s a bit of a turn off. The last few years, I’ve enjoyed being single. As in not dating at all. Because most women only see my last name and dollar signs.”
“That’s sad.”
“It’s reality. And you know that’s true. It always has been. It’s no secret how well off my folks are, and my brother, my two sisters, and I stand to inherit it all.”
“If you ever did get married again, would you want to continue to live here?”
“Are you propos?—”
“Bryson. Stop teasing. It’s a serious question.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, shifting his chair. “When I divorced Monica, I swore I’d never get married again. That marriage was horrible. But since your return, my attitude about things might have shifted. Once this situation with Grant and your mom is resolved, I want to spend more time getting to know you again.” He tapped his finger on her knee. “Where is this coming from?”
“I don’t know. I was just sitting here, thinking about the way your family is and how it’s not the norm, yet perfectly normal,” she said. “And wondering what the future holds. Wondering what was next for me when things settled, knowing you and I need to… date… not just \share a bed every night.
“I do like that last part, but there’s so much we don’t know about each other, even though we once knew everything,” he said. “I’ve seen the subtle differences. Changes in the way you do things. How you handle yourself. Even the foods you eat.”
“Wow,” she said softly. “That’s quite observant of you.”
“I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.” He winked.
She smiled, easing back in the chair, holding his hand, allowing her mind to drift off into a half-dream state of what the future might look like. Picnics. Long walks between the vines. Sitting in the tasting room, listening to Bryson tell stories. Dinners with both families.
The door to the house screeching across the wood planks jerked her from happier thoughts as Grant stepped onto the back porch. His normally styled, curly hair looked like he’d been driving with the top down for days. Dark circles looped under his eyes. New lines appeared on his face. It was as if he’d aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours.
He reached the edge of the porch, planted his hands on his hips, and stared off at the rows of grapes that stretched on forever. “I just got a call from Harlan. He’s on his way over with Sandy. He said she has news. Didn’t know what it was, but said that she needed to speak with me, Erin, and…” he turned, catching Riley’s gaze. “You. Privately. Sandy wanted the kids out of the house, so Kelly, Ashley, and Hasley are taking them into town for shopping and dinner as a special treat.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Jessica’s already pitching a fit. I had to tell her that someone would call her with the… truth. That child is going to be the death of me. She’s growing up too fast.”
Riley pushed to a standing position, making her way toward her brother. Grant wrapped his arm around her, tugging her close, kissing the top of her head. She couldn’t remember a time he’d ever done that.
“I’ll go tell my dad what’s going on.” Bryson was on his feet. “I’m sure he won’t mind giving up his office for a few hours. Or you can have mine. Anywhere in this house is fine.”
“Actually, the kitchen would be nice.” Grant released her, turning and leaning his hands on the railing. “It might feel… normal. Although getting arrested would be anything but.”
Bryson paused at the door and glanced over his shoulder. “Not that I have firsthand knowledge of these things, but I doubt Sandy would be contacting your lawyer first if that were the case.”
Grant shifted, giving Bryson a weak smile. “I appreciate the attempt to make me feel better. But she sent my kids away.”
Riley stared at Bryson for a second, tilting her head toward the door. He took the hint and slipped inside without another word.
