Chương 8
“What is happening?”
I opened the screen door.
“You can come inside.”
She glanced toward Greg’s Mercedes.
“He’s coming too.”
“No.”
Her head snapped toward me.
“What?”
“I want to speak to you alone.”
“I’m not doing this if you’re going to attack him.”
“Then you can leave.”
She stared at me.
I almost took the words back.
Old habits were fast.
New ones were slower.
Samantha removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were swollen.
“You canceled everything.”
“I canceled what I was paying for.”
“The florist called me crying.”
“That seems unusual.”
“Her crew was already prepping.”
“I’ll pay any legitimate cancellation amount I owe.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“What is?”
“My wedding is Saturday.”
“Yes.”
“People have flown in.”
“I know.”
“Greg’s parents have guests coming from New York.”
“I know.”
“You can’t just destroy this because your feelings got hurt.”
I looked at my daughter standing on the porch where Thomas had once taught her to tie her shoes.
“Do you know what North Creek Hospitality Partners is?”
Her face emptied.
Not with guilt.
With confusion.
“What?”
I watched her closely.
“Do you know what it is?”
“No.”
Behind her, Greg opened his car door.
I kept my eyes on Samantha.
“Then we have a much bigger problem than your wedding.”
Samantha looked over her shoulder toward Greg, then back at me.
“What is that?”
“A company Greg invested in.”
Her eyes moved again.
Greg had started across the gravel.
I stepped into the doorway.
“Stay there.”
He stopped.
“Sam and I need to talk.”
Samantha stared at him.
“What company?”
Greg kept his hands loose at his sides.
“It’s not what she’s making it sound like.”
“I haven’t made it sound like anything yet.”
Samantha looked from him to me.
“What company?”
“North Creek Hospitality Partners.”
She frowned.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Greg took another step.
“Sam.”
“No.”
She held up one hand without looking at him.
“What is it?”
I handed her my phone.
Michael had emailed me a photograph of the first page of the preliminary planning inquiry while she was driving up.
The document showed North Creek’s name, Beckett’s office, and the parcel reference.
Samantha read the page.
Her lips parted slightly.
“What does this have to do with us?”
“The parcel is mine.”
She read it again.
“That’s the vineyard?”
“Yes.”
Her thumb moved down the screen.
“What does boutique hospitality mean?”
“Hotel rooms, event space, related development.”
Her face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
She turned toward Greg.
“You were planning a hotel here?”
“No.”
He answered immediately.
“We were exploring whether one could ever be viable.”
“Here?”
“It was hypothetical.”
She looked at the screen.
“It has Mom’s parcel number.”
“That’s how you test a site.”
“Why Mom’s site?”
Greg glanced at me.
“Because you were going to own part of it.”
Samantha’s head tilted.
“Eleven acres.”
He said nothing.
I could see the moment she noticed the omission.
“How much land were you testing?”
Greg rubbed the back of his neck.
“It changed during preliminary review.”
“To how much?”
“Sam, these things move around.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-six acres.”
She stared at him.
Behind her, Ben had stopped beside his truck.
He did not come closer.
The vineyard workers were finishing a row beyond the lower barn, and the ordinary machinery sounds continued as if our family had not begun breaking open in the driveway.
Samantha looked at me.
“Thirty-six?”
I nodded.
“That includes part of the vines.”
“And the west event lawn.”
Her attention returned to Greg.
“You told me the trust changes were about taxes.”
“They were partly about taxes.”
“You said Michael’s office was overcomplicating the deed.”
“I said the structure was overcomplicated.”
“You told me to sign whatever they sent because it was basically done.”
“You didn’t sign a new deed.”
“That is not the point.”
Her voice rose on the last word.
Greg glanced toward Ben.
“Can we not do this outside?”
“You’re the one standing outside.”
He looked at me.
“Will you let us in?”
“No.”
Samantha made an exasperated sound.
“Mom.”
“I invited you inside.”
“Without him.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Then she handed my phone back.
“I need five minutes with Greg.”
“You can take all the time you need.”
I went inside and closed the wooden door.
My hands were shaking again.
I hated that.
Anger had always made Thomas louder and me colder.
Since his death, my body had apparently decided to develop its own opinions.
I poured a glass of water and drank half of it too quickly.
Through the kitchen window, Samantha and Greg stood near his car.
At first they barely moved.
Then she started talking with both hands.
Greg answered with shorter gestures.
He pointed once toward the stone house.
She shook her head.
He reached for her arm.
She stepped away.
I turned from the window.
Watching them felt invasive even though they were arguing in my driveway.
The wedding folder was still open on the table.
I slid the seating chart back inside and shut it.
My phone rang.
Elaine.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Andrea.”
Her voice carried the clipped breathlessness of someone already offended.
“I have been trying to reach you.”
“I saw.”
“What in the world is going on?”
“You should ask Greg.”
“I have.”
“Then you know.”
“I know you’ve apparently canceled the venue two days before the wedding.”
“I withdrew permission to use my property.”
“You cannot do that to Samantha.”
“I already did.”
Elaine lowered her voice.
“There are guests flying in from three states.”
“I’m aware.”
“Robert’s brother has come from Boston.”
“I hope he enjoys California.”
“Andrea, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
There was a brief silence.
Then she said, “This is because you weren’t invited.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
I looked out at the rose garden where Samantha had wanted the ceremony.
May you like
“No mother should punish her daughter because of a seating disagreement.”
“It wasn’t a seating disagreement.”
