Chương 6
The line became quiet.
“I wanted you to be happy.”
“I am.”
“Are you?”
The question came out sharper than I intended.
Samantha did not answer.
That silence felt familiar.
“Mom, I love you.”
I closed my eyes.
“I love you too.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Making us choose.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“I am not asking you to choose between me and Greg.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
I stood and walked toward the window.
“I am asking you to choose whether you believe I deserve respect.”
She started crying quietly.
I hated hearing it.
I hated that part of me immediately wanted to apologize.
That part of me had kept our relationship together for years.
But another part of me, smaller and newer, stayed silent.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she said.
“I know.”
“I didn’t think it would hurt you this much.”
I looked at the vineyard.
The vines were tied neatly along the rows.
Every single one supported by careful work.
“That is the problem.”
“What?”
“You thought the damage would not be serious because you did not intend it.”
She did not respond.
After a while, she whispered,
“I’m sorry.”
I sat back down.
The words were small.
But they were the first thing she had said that did not contain an excuse.
“I need more than sorry, Samantha.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I spoke gently.
“I don’t think you do.”
The truth was painful.
An apology was not a time machine.
It did not erase the moment before.
It only showed whether someone was willing to face what happened.
“I need you to understand that this is not about the wedding anymore.”
“Then what is it about?”
I looked at the photograph of her as a child beside the young vines.
“It is about whether I am your mother when I am useful, or whether I am your mother when I disappoint you.”
She began crying harder.
I heard her take a breath.
Then another.
“I have to go.”
The words surprised me.
Not because I wanted the conversation to continue.
Because she ended it.
Before I could.
“Okay.”
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“I really am sorry.”
I looked at the phone.
“I hope someday you understand why I needed to hear that before I could believe it.”
She did not answer.
The call ended.
For the first time in days, I did not feel victorious.
I felt sad.
There was no satisfaction in being right about someone you loved.
Only grief.
Later that afternoon, Evelyn called.
Her voice was serious.
“Andrea, I found something you should know.”
I sat at my desk.
“What?”
“I reviewed the communications related to the property transfer.”
“And?”
“There were inquiries made about refinancing the stone house.”
My stomach tightened.
“By who?”
She paused.
“Greg.”
I looked toward the window.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Three weeks.
Before the wedding.
Before the gift.
Before the phone call.
“What did he ask?”
“Whether the property could be used as collateral.”
I felt the room become strangely quiet.
The clock on the wall continued ticking.
A sound I had heard thousands of times suddenly felt impossible to ignore.
“He never mentioned that.”
“No.”
Evelyn’s voice was careful.
“Andrea, there is one more thing.”
I waited.
“The inquiry listed a business plan.”
“What kind of business plan?”
She opened a file.
“The vineyard.”
My fingers went cold.
“He was planning something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
A pause.
Then Evelyn said,
“Selling a portion of the land and developing luxury vacation properties.”
I stared at the wall.
The dream Michael and I built.
The land where Samantha grew up.
The place I had spent my life protecting.
Greg had not been looking for a home.
He had been looking for an opportunity.
Greg had not been looking for a home.
He had been looking for an opportunity.
For several minutes, I said nothing.
I could hear Evelyn breathing on the other end of the phone.
She knew better than to fill silence when someone was trying to absorb something painful.
“Are you still there?” she asked eventually.
“Yes.”
My voice sounded strange to me.
Calmer than I felt.
“When was this discovered?”
“I found it while reviewing the recent documents.”
“Why were you reviewing them?”
“Because after your conversation with Samantha, I wanted to make sure there were no other issues connected to the property.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Andrea.”
“Yes?”
“There is something important you should understand.”
“What?”
“This does not automatically mean he broke a law.”
“I know.”
“It does mean you need to stop assuming everyone involved has the same intentions you have.”
I looked down at the papers on my desk.
The irony was painful.
Evelyn had been telling me the same thing in a more professional way that Michael had told me years earlier.
“I want copies of everything.”
“I already prepared them.”
Of course she had.
That was Evelyn.
Prepared before panic had time to arrive.
After we ended the call, I sat in the office for almost an hour.
I did not move.
I did not call Samantha.
I did not call Greg.
A younger version of myself would have demanded answers immediately.
I would have driven to their house.
I would have asked why.
I would have searched for some explanation that made the betrayal easier to carry.
But explanations were not always healing.
Sometimes they were just another way people tried to make unacceptable things sound reasonable.
The following morning, I received an email from the wedding planner.
Her name was Caroline, and she had worked on events at the vineyard before.
She was professional and kind, which was why I felt guilty reading her message.
She wrote that she was confused about the status of the wedding.
She had received conflicting instructions.
One message from me freezing payments.
Another from Greg saying the issue would be resolved.
I called her.
She answered quickly.
May you like
“Andrea, I’m glad you called.”
“I’m sorry you were put in this position.”
