Chương 9
“That is what Greg told me.”
“Greg told Samantha I should not attend.”
Elaine sighed.
“You know how sensitive weddings are.”
“I do now.”
“She is trying to build a relationship with a new family.”
“She had one already.”
The words escaped before I could soften them.
Elaine went quiet.
I regretted saying it immediately, not because it was false, but because it sounded like something said to win.
I was tired of winning sentences that changed nothing.
“She still has you,” Elaine said.
“Does she?”
“That is your choice.”
Something in her tone sharpened me.
“Is North Creek your choice too?”
The silence that followed was longer.
I heard a faint clink, perhaps ice against a glass.
“What are you talking about?”
“You invested in North Creek Hospitality Partners.”
“Greg mentioned an opportunity.”
“So you did invest.”
“A small amount.”
“How small?”
“That is private.”
“Not when the investment concerns my land.”
“It did not concern your land when Greg described it to me.”
I stopped.
“What did he describe?”
“A potential hospitality development somewhere in wine country.”
“Somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know it was here?”
“No.”
Her answer came fast, but not defensive.
I listened for something in her voice and could not tell whether I heard surprise or excellent acting.
“When did you learn the site?”
“Just now, from you.”
I looked through the window at Greg.
Samantha was speaking again.
His face had lost color.
“What did he tell you about the project?”
“That a family-connected parcel might become available.”
“Family-connected?”
“He said the owners were likely to be receptive.”
My fingers tightened around the glass.
“Owners?”
“Yes.”
“Plural?”
“That is what he said.”
There was no reason for her to invent that detail.
Not a helpful reason, anyway.
“Did he say Samantha would own the land?”
“He said she might have control of enough acreage to make an arrangement possible.”
“What arrangement?”
“A long lease, perhaps.”
I sat down.
He had not only wanted the land.
He had expected to use Samantha as the bridge between my ownership and his investors.
Elaine spoke again.
“Andrea, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did Samantha know?”
“I don’t think so.”
Elaine let out a slow breath.
“Then we have a problem.”
“We?”
“I put money into that company.”
“So did other people.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“Two hundred fifty thousand.”
I almost dropped the glass.
“That is your idea of small?”
“Relative to the total capitalization, yes.”
“How much money did North Creek raise?”
“I don’t know the final number.”
“An estimate.”
“Greg said they were targeting four million for initial acquisition and entitlement work.”
Acquisition.
The word landed differently than development.
“Acquisition of what?”
“He did not specify.”
I stood.
“And you invested anyway?”
“I trusted my son.”
There was something brittle in her voice now.
The first trace of fear.
“Did Robert know?”
“No.”
That surprised me almost as much as the amount.
“Your husband doesn’t know you invested a quarter million dollars?”
“It is my money.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“He would have asked questions.”
“So you avoided the questions.”
She did not answer.
For one strange second, I felt almost sympathetic toward her.
Then I remembered her suggestion that I take a spa trip during my daughter’s wedding.
“Elaine.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know I wasn’t invited?”
Her breath stopped.
“That was Greg and Samantha’s decision.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I knew there was tension.”
“Did you know I was not invited?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“And you said nothing.”
“What was I supposed to say?”
I looked at the empty chair across from me.
Thomas had sat there every morning for thirty-one years.
He would have disliked Elaine for entirely different reasons than he disliked people generally.
“You could have said it was indecent.”
She exhaled.
“I was trying not to interfere.”
“You had no difficulty interfering when you suggested I leave town.”
“That was meant kindly.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Her voice stiffened.
“Andrea.”
“Goodbye, Elaine.”
I ended the call.
Outside, Samantha was walking toward the house alone.
Greg remained beside his car.
She opened the screen door and came into the mudroom.
Her face was blotchy now.
Not crying exactly.
Close.
I moved aside.
She entered the kitchen and stared at the table.
“Do you have coffee?”
The question was so ordinary that it nearly broke me.
“It’s old.”
“I don’t care.”
I poured what remained into a mug and put it in the microwave.
Samantha sat down.
She picked at a corner of the wedding folder with one thumbnail.
The microwave beeped.
I set the mug in front of her.
She did not drink.
“Greg says you’re twisting things because you’re angry.”
“I am angry.”
“He says the development idea was for our future.”
“Did you ask what future?”
She looked at me.
“He said the vineyard eventually comes to me anyway.”
There it was.
I sat across from her.
“Eventually?”
“You know what he meant.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes dropped.
The microwave clock glowed 3:18.
Outside, a sprinkler clicked on near the herb garden.
“He said after you were gone, I’d have choices.”
My throat tightened.
“That is true.”
“You always said the vineyard would be mine someday.”
“I did.”
“So he says he was just thinking ahead.”
“By submitting a planning inquiry while I’m alive?”
She flinched.
“I know how it sounds.”
“How does it sound to you?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer was more honest than anything she had said all day.
She wrapped both hands around the mug.
“Did you really stop the wedding payments?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“The ones I could.”
Her eyes closed.
“We don’t have that money.”
“I know.”
“Greg said you knew he was covering other expenses.”
“I knew he was paying for the photographer and honeymoon.”
“He hasn’t paid for the honeymoon.”
I waited.
Samantha swallowed.
“He said he was going to.”
“And the photographer?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Her face changed again.
This time the fear had somewhere new to go.
