Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,17

parents died, she inherited some wonderful pieces: a Tiffany grandfather clock that held a place of honor in the entrance hall. A mahogany George II bowfront desk from the 1700s. A Federal gilt mirror that hung in her bedroom. The treasures of her home had, over the decades, come to tell a narrative about her life, her family origins, the things that made her happy. If the winery was Leonard’s achievement, the house was her own success story.

The second odd thing about that day’s summons was that meetings were held in the office at the winery, not in their home. Long ago, Vivian and Leonard had made the deliberate decision to establish boundaries between their family and work lives. The walk between the main house and the winery might be only three minutes, but the emotional distance was invaluable.

Vivian climbed the stairs to the library on the second floor. As far as she was concerned, there was no decorative touch that could compete with the beauty of shelves lined with books. But she had made sure all the room’s fixtures were museum quality.

“I certainly hope there’s a good reason for—” She stopped short.

Seated around the table were Leonard, their attorney Harold Feld, their accountant Marty Pritchard, Asher . . . and Bridget. It took all of Vivian’s self-control and generations of good breeding not to say exactly what she was thinking, which was “What is she doing here?”

Instead, she took the seat next to Leonard without another word.

“Thanks for joining us, Vivian,” said Marty. “It’s important to Leonard that we all be on the same page here.”

“I’m sorry,” Vivian said, glancing at Bridget and then at Leonard. “If this is a business meeting, it’s family only.”

No one said anything. Asher reached for Bridget’s hand.

“Mom, we haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but Bridget is family: we got engaged late last night.”

Vivian’s eyes moved to Bridget’s left hand. Sure enough, a two-carat diamond in a platinum art deco setting decorated her left ring finger. She recognized it from her late mother-in-law’s collection.

“Engaged?” Vivian said.

“In the vineyard,” Bridget said, smiling. “Asher got down on one knee right there in the dirt.”

Soil, Vivian thought, her jaw tightening. It’s soil, not dirt.

She again looked at her husband, and he seemed to shrug, as if this were all news to him. But someone had made that ring possible.

Vivian could barely breathe for the feeling of betrayal. How could Leonard know about this and not tell her? But she knew how. He’d always indulged their only son, granting him far more latitude than he did anyone else. She didn’t think it was necessarily kindness that made him view Asher through rose-colored glasses; it was wishful thinking. Sometimes even delusional thinking. Oh, she loved Asher. But that didn’t make her oblivious to the fact that he was lazy, and entitled, and had been born far too handsome for his own good.

“Well, then I suppose congratulations are in order,” Vivian said evenly. “But if this is why you called me up here, I need to excuse myself.”

“Please sit down, Vivian,” Leonard said. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Well, what then?” She was impatient. Irritated. She’d been having such a lovely time with Leah, and she wanted to get back to her. Her time with her daughter was fleeting. She didn’t want to waste a second of it. And the sooner she got out of that room, the sooner she could try to stop thinking about the disastrous step her son was taking.

“Decisions have to be made,” Marty said. “Difficult decisions.”

“Yes, well, that’s often the case in this business,” Vivian said, glancing at Leonard.

“This is different. The winery is hemorrhaging money,” Marty said.

Hemorrhaging money? She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. Vivian didn’t appreciate hyperbole.

“We know how to deal with ups and downs,” she said. “Right, Leonard?”

Together, they had overcome countless problems over the decades. The August when the yellow finches destroyed their entire crop of Pinot Noir. Losing power for a week after Hurricane Gloria. The seasons when they’d gotten caught up in trendy varietals and failed to anticipate them falling out of favor. The year mold consumed their top-tier Chardonnay grapes.

Every challenge had proven, in the end, to be a learning experience. Every failure had made them stronger. All except for one: the catastrophic, short-lived partnership that changed her family forever.

“I’d like to speak to my wife alone for a minute,” Leonard said.

Vivian followed him out of the room, the sight of the diamond