Page 84 of A Vintage of Regret
He pressed a finger over her lips.
“You’re kind. But let’s be real. I’ve held a grudge against a man for twelve years when I had no right to. Whatever happened with the two of you is between you. I’ve treated both of you badly because I couldn’t let go of the past. That’s our mother’s influence. And I’m fucking done. I’m just done. She’s carried whatever bullshit game she’s playing too far. I don’t know how she did it. But Walter, Mason, Bryson, and I have been comparing her deposits with the missing money, and deep in my bones, I know she stole it.”
Riley gasped. “That means she set up her own son to go to prison.” The betrayal was so profound it made her physically sick. Their mother—the woman who'd lectured them about family loyalty their entire lives—was willing to let Grant be destroyed for a crime he didn't commit. She'd looked Sandy in the eye and lied, knowing those lies could send her son away for decades. Riley had always known Elizabeth was selfish, but this? This was evil.
“Look at what she did to you.” He arched a brow. “All because she didn’t want anyone to know she had an affair.”
Riley slumped backward as tears welled in her eyes. Her entire existence crumbling in her lap. “She can’t get away with this.”
“I don’t plan on rolling over and waving the white flag. However, I’m scared. Not just for me, but for my kids. I don’t want this to touch them. I don’t want them to go through lifewith this hanging over their heads. But no matter how it plays out. They lose either a father or a grandmother. And that just fucking sucks.”
The sound of tires against pavement caught Riley’s attention. “I think they’re here.”
“Maybe we should crack open some of that Stone Bridge wine,” Grant said. “I could certainly use a drink.”
She tapped her fingers on the counter. “Better stick with soda.” She stood and went to the back door, stared out at the vines, and waited to learn her brother's fate.
Riley sat across from her brother and sister and the big island in the kitchen, her hands folded in her lap so no one would see her twisting her fingers. Memories of her childhood flickered in and out like an old black and white movie, all grainy with a faint tick and hum laced over the sound as it rattled through a projector.
Visions of her mother sitting on the sofa, book in hand, reading her story. It should have been a lovely image, filled with all the things a child would want at that time in her life. Only, the memory of that moment was of a mother hurrying to get through the chore of reading to her child. It wasn’t the way that Kelly and Erin read to their kids—bringing to life every word, every detail in the story.
Longing filled her heart. She’d wanted her mom’s love, affection, and attention. She’d never had any of it.
Grant sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Erin was beside him, arms locked across her chest like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Harlan, perched at the head of the island, his legal pad open and pen idle between his fingers. Sandy stood at the opposite end, boots planted, shoulders squared, the kind of posture that said she was here to deliver truth, not comfort.
“I can’t stand the silence,” Grant said. “Can we get on with whatever you’re here for?
“This is a tricky situation, and I’m between a rock and a hard place.” Sandy shifted, showing a level of discomfort she hadn’t before. “Some of what I’m about to tell you, I shouldn’t as an officer of the law. As a cop, I rely on facts. That’s generally the only thing that matters to me. But over the years, I’ve also learned to trust my instincts, especially when dealing with people I’ve known my entire life.”
Riley braced herself, nails pressing into her palms.
Grant narrowed his stare. “I’d rather you not beat around the bush.”
“You’re going to have to let me do this my way.” Sandy arched a brow. “I pulled Monica in again this morning.”
Grant stiffened. “Because of that picture my sister took?”
“I’m not going to get into all the details of why I did that, because some of them would compromise my position, or the district attorney’s. But a few things during this investigation regarding Monica and Elizabeth have… troubled me,” Sandy said. “Before we get into that, Grant, I need to know something.”
“What?” Grant asked.
Sandy pressed her palms on the counter, holding Grant’s stare. “Do you use a signature stamp for any aspect of your business or for the revitalization committee?”
“No. Never. It would be kind of stupid to have my signature on something like that.” Grant’s voice was eerily calm and a little too steady. “Anyone could forge my name on a document or a check…”
Sandy glanced toward the ceiling, as if the answer to what she could or couldn't reveal might be hidden in the recessed lighting. “Monica’s a tricky one. It took a lot to get this out of her, and honestly, I’m not sure how much I believe of what she’s told me.” Sandy lowered her gaze. “According to Monica, that’s what was in that envelope.”
“Why the hell would Monica have a stamp of Grant’s signature?” Riley asked.
Grant reached for his soda, took a big gulp, then aggressively set it back on the counter. “So, now you’re thinking Monica took the money? She doesn’t have access to anything except one project, and we’ve made sure she has to jump through hoops to get approval for larger sums. If we left it up to her, Main Street would look like a tacky handbag on steroids.”
“Monica claims Elizabeth gave it to her after Monica complained about all those hoops you just referenced.” Sandy leaned her hip against the counter. “And then Monica mentioned that Elizabeth asked Monica to use the stamp to access and copy certain files for Parker. That even though he’d left the committee when he’d been diagnosed with cancer, he was still acting as a consultant, and it would just be easier than to bother anyone else with it.”
“That’s bullshit.” Grant slammed his hand on the counter. “Parker walked away and never looked back. He was too busy fighting for his life.”
“Relax, Grant. I know that.” Sandy tilted her head. “Don’t forget my husband is also on that committee, and I spoke with the mayor and called Walter before coming over here.”
