to her when she was a little girl, protecting her when she found monsters under her bed. While Adam had been the son who would take on River’s Bend and continue the Danvers name, Gavin had been the odd son, preferring books to business and uninterested in doing anything that would please his father.
Carl made a face as he cut into his turkey. “That wife of his still in the loony bin, then?”
“She’s in treatment,” Julia said. “Yes, she’s getting help. I hope she finds a way to be well soon. I know it’s been difficult for all of them.”
Carl just harrumphed. He’d been against Gavin’s marriage from the start, and especially since Teagan’s bipolar disorder had worsened.
Grace stared at her plate. The thought made her stomach twist, but sometimes she hated her father.
When she glanced up, she saw Jaime’s gaze on her. It was understanding, sympathetic. It broke her heart.
She looked away.
As the food was eaten, wine flowed around the table as well. Grace watched as her father poured himself his fourth glass, and she winced. Carl rarely got intoxicated, but the few times it happened, it never ended well.
“When are you two getting married?” He pointed at Adam and Joy, a gray eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting five years like some of these couples. What’s the point of gettin’ engaged if you’re never gonna make it official?”
“Probably within the next year,” Joy replied, “but we’re more focused on the vineyard right now than we are on wedding plans.”
“That’s code for ‘Joy wants my undivided attention when we’re doing wedding planning,’” Adam rejoined.
“I already told you we aren’t getting married down at the courthouse just so you can wear your grungy jeans and Converse.”
“I wouldn’t wear my Converse!” Adam took a sip of wine. “I’d wear my Birkenstocks.”
Joy pushed at his shoulder, and he grinned.
“Besides,” she added with a smug smile, “I’m still trying to convince this cheapskate that I’m not getting a dress for less than one-hundred dollars no matter how much he moans and groans.”
Grace couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t imagine Joy getting a gown that cost less than three grand, if not more. Grace didn’t see what the fuss was about, but then again, she wasn’t the one getting married.
“Who spends five thousands dollars on a dress you wear once?” Adam asked, his voice scandalized.
Joy just looked at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Well, be sure to get it done soon, you two. Time’s a’wasting. Besides, we want grandkids here before we end up six feet under.” Carl nodded, not even looking at Adam and Joy anymore. His gaze had turned to Grace, and she automatically slumped down into her chair.
“This one over here,” Carl began, pointing at Grace, “is the one I’m worried about. Sitting at home, doing nothing, just painting away her life. Never thought a daughter of mine would futz around like that.”
Grace tried to sink lower, but then she’d end up under the table. All eyes were on her—mostly sympathetic—but it didn’t make any difference. She wanted to die. Crawl under a rock and die.
“When are you gonna get your life in order, young lady? I keep askin’ her, but she just says she doesn’t know.” Carl scoffed. “If I could, I’d marry her off just to give her something to do.”
Tears pooled in Grace’s eyes just as Julia took Carl’s wine glass away, whispering that he’d had enough. She couldn’t look at anyone. She couldn’t look at her brother or at Joy and she definitely couldn’t look at Jaime. But when the tears overflowed and fell down her face, she got up, saying, “Excuse me,” before hurrying outside into the cool afternoon sun.
She didn’t know where she was going to go. Where could she go? She just wanted to get away from all of those gazes on her. Her father’s words hurt—they did—but somehow the pity from everyone else felt worse. Poor Grace, she’s in a tough spot, isn’t she?
She wiped at her cheeks with harsh movements. Her voice caught on a sob and then she was crouched in a field, crying her heart out, only the crows circling overhead for company.
A voice inside her tried to tell her she was overreacting. But it didn’t matter: the tears came, hot against her skin, dripping onto the ground. She covered her face and bit her knuckles to keep from making any more noise.
She was crying so hard that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her, and