my ex-husband.”
“And just so you know, you weren’t wrong about everything with Donovan and me either. In the beginning, it was just a marriage on paper. But things…changed.” I flash him a grin, and when he grins back, my heart does a little flutter.
“I’m very happy for you. Thank you for everything, Sienna. I’m sorry I was such a bitch on wheels for a while there, and I’ll wait for your call.”
Donovan and I hold hands as we walk into the restaurant. We pass by Brooke and Fraser, who have a table by the window.
“So, this Saturday at my Uncle Vito’s barn,” I call out loudly. “Eight a.m. sharp. Bring your mud boots.” They just glare at us sullenly as we walk by.
Our families are waiting for us at a large table in the back. They’re all wearing the same stunned expression.
“So that’s it, then.” Montgomery Witlocke looks dazed. “It’s all over.”
“We get to keep two million,” Rocco says. “Split between us.”
“About that.” Donovan pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down, then he sits down next to us. “First of all, this isn’t a disaster. We have options. But I don’t think we’re going to be able to keep it. The two million dollars is money from criminals.”
“We don’t know that!” Montgomery protests.
Donovan arches an eyebrow.
“Nobody’s proved anything,” Montgomery mutters.
“There are hundreds of people in Idaho who’ve lost their shirts by massively overpaying for houses that are already falling apart.” Donovan shakes his head. “Even if we could legally keep the money, it would be wrong.”
“Tell us about these options,” Uncle Vito says.
Donovan nods. “As soon as Sienna told me about her concerns, I started exploring alternatives. Remember, Greenvale’s planning board has already approved a subdivision, which will make it easy to sell that land.”
“But not for anywhere near as much.” Rocco speaks up. “And it would take a while for a sale to go through.”
“You’d still get good money for land that you’re not using, and you might not have to wait for that long. Constantine and I have been talking, and the numbers look good. He might be interested in working with me and investing in the subdivision.”
As Donovan spells out the details of what he’s proposing, the mood starts to lighten. We’ve avoided what would likely have been a disaster on every level. Constantine and Donovan would ensure that any new development benefited the town and the environment. Donovan’s also willing to float both families a loan to tide us over until the sales go through. And for the first time, it looks as if his father’s willing to accept his help.
The waitress brings us Ribaldi and Witlocke wines, to celebrate.
Montgomery uncorks a bottle of Ribaldi Pinot Noir, pours himself a glass, and holds it up in a toast. “Team Rilocke!” he cheers.
I glance at Donovan. “Are you sniffling?” I whisper.
“Allergies.” He sniffs harder.
“Liar.”
“Could be worse. I could be a shower molester,” he whispers back, but it’s not a very quiet whisper.
Sara grabs a bread roll and lobs it at his head. It bounces off and falls on the floor. “We. Have. EARS!” she yells.
Donovan just grins at her, grabs the bottle, and pours himself a glass. He grabs my hand and squeezes it, and holds up his glass and toasts the table.
“Team Rilocke!”
Epilogue
JUNE 2022…
"Such a scandal,” my Aunt Fernanda frets, fussing with my ivory wedding gown.
We’re standing in a tent next to the chardonnay and pinot gris wine blocks that I planted last year. They’re budding gloriously, and I can’t wait to taste their first vintage three years from now.
I look in the full-length mirror and smile in satisfaction. Donovan and I are renewing our vows, and we’re doing it right this time. Sara made me a wreath of grapevines with a trail of gauzy lace. My wedding gown is hand-made and the family has been working on it all year. The sleeves are made with lace from Fernanda’s wedding gown.
The waistline has had to be adjusted more than once, because my waistline has gone from flat to “I swallowed a volleyball” to “I swallowed a whale.” In other words, I am very pregnant.
In two more months, I will give birth to Donovan Witlocke Junior and Maria Fernanda Witlocke. Donovan was mildly sad that I wouldn’t go along with his “Kay, Syrah, Syrah” pun names, because we already would have had the Kay and the Syrah, but he didn’t try to push too hard. I agreed that he can buy all the punny