Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,117

the winery have to do with your engagement?”

“He said, quote, he has nothing to offer me and it’s not fair to drag me down into these problems.”

Vivian was surprised that her spoiled, self-centered son would make such a selfless gesture. But she was upset thinking that Asher believed his only value was tied to the fortune—or misfortune—of his family. As if he had no inherent value and Bridget was just with him for money. Was his self-esteem that low? And if it was, did it explain why he seemed to not even try to keep up with Leonard in the business?

Vivian realized she was guilty of this thinking herself. She’d stewed for months over her belief that Bridget was just a gold digger until, well, until the night of the book club, when she saw another dimension to the young woman.

“I told him that I was totally supportive of him—like, literally supportive. I’m making money from my influencer sponsorships,” Bridget said.

Vivian still didn’t understand what that meant, but nonetheless she got the spirit of it.

“I’m sure he appreciates that,” Vivian said.

“No, he doesn’t. Just the opposite. He said he could never live with the idea of his wife making the money.”

“What?”

Where would Asher get such an outdated, sexist, ridiculous attitude? Looking around the room as Bridget dabbed at her face with more tissues, she found her answer in the family photos arranged on the sideboard. In frame after frame, Leonard stared back at her. Leonard.

Vivian shook her head and turned to Bridget, whose pale eyes were shadowed with smudges of makeup.

“I’ll talk to him,” Vivian said.

She might not have her own mother to go to for advice, but she was a mother herself. And it was time to give it. She never imagined she would willingly be in a position to try to save Asher’s relationship with Bridget Muldoon, but that was exactly what she was going to do.

* * *

Leah sat propped up in bed, leafing through the pages of Scruples. She’d gone back to reread the part where Billy realized her store was failing and had to accept an entire new direction from an outsider. At first, Billy thought she’d rather just shutter the whole thing than change course. But ultimately, Billy was her father’s daughter:

Billy began to exercise her father’s Winthrop characteristics: total dedication to a cause, stern self-discipline, the willingness to struggle toward achievement at all costs . . .

Leah was nervous to tell her father her ultimate strategy for the winery. But while he might be determined to say no, she was just as determined to change his mind.

She would ease into her ideas. First, she’d get him used to the idea of producing a rosé. Then, only after he was totally on board with that, she’d drop the real bombshell: All rosé. Only rosé. A vineyard catering to women.

The only question was timing. When to drop the bombshell?

“Sooner is better than later,” Steven said, climbing into bed next to her.

“How soon?”

Steven pulled the book from her hands and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “He seemed receptive at the meeting today. And you said he’ll be making plans with Chris about tank space soon.”

He was right. Any delay was just stalling. There was no room for fear in this situation. Or, rather, there was no room to act or not act out of fear.

“I’m going to find him right now,” she said, getting out of bed.

“Now? I didn’t mean now . . .”

Leah tied her robe around her waist as she headed down the hall. She reached her parents’ bedroom only to hear her mother deep in conversation with Bridget. Ordinarily, that would have given her pause, but she was completely focused on finding Leonard.

She checked all around the house and only noticed the pool deck light was on when she walked through the kitchen and saw it through the window.

Leonard sat in a lounge chair, a blanket over his lap, staring out into the distance. He held a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. He looked ten years older than the man who had held court at the production meeting that morning.

“Dad,” Leah said quietly, so as not to startle him. He turned to her slowly, seeming dazed. “Got a minute?”

He made a sweeping gesture with his arm, either indicating endless time or infinite space—it was tough to tell. Either way, she took it as an opening.

“Good meeting today,” she said, sitting in the chair next to him. The pool