Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,50

his veins.

It felt strange to sit at one end of a long, mostly empty table. Leah was certain they must have had a dining room that was more appropriately scaled. Later, Leonard would point out that it had been a power move. As if summoning them to the château weren’t enough of one.

The truth was, they could have dined in the stables. The wine was so extraordinary, it rendered the backdrop for the meal irrelevant. The highlight was a grand cru white Burgundy Montrachet that made Vivian gasp.

The conversation was surprisingly easy. The baron’s English was flawless, and although Natasha had lived in France for several years, she remained obsessed with American pop culture, leaving her eager to discuss Dallas and the new TV phenomenon Dynasty. Vivian glanced at Leonard from time to time, and his exchange with the baron seemed equally congenial.

“Your husband tells me you’re a rider,” the baron said.

“Well, not for quite some time,” Vivian said.

“Tomorrow I’ll show you our stables.”

After dessert, the baron stood. “If you ladies will excuse us, we’re going to the billiards room to have a few cigars.”

Natasha took her on a tour of the formal gardens, all five of them, breathtakingly lovely even in the dark of night. But the travel and the wine caught up with Vivian, and she had to sit on one of the stone benches for a break.

“I’m sorry! Of course you must be exhausted. I’m just so excited to have a new friend. Come—let’s get you back to your room.”

Vivian was disappointed to find Leonard was still downstairs. She changed into her nightgown and waited for him.

By the time he showed up, reeking of cognac and cigars, she’d fallen asleep. The click of the bedroom door woke her.

“What on earth have you two been doing all this time?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Celebrating,” he told her. “We’re going into business with the baron.”

Natasha, the baron had apparently informed Leonard, “is very sentimental about her home state. Now that she has seen the wine country there, it seems a New York winery is simply not something she can live without. And I like to make sure my wife is happy.”

The baron, not being a patient man, determined that the fastest and most efficient way to get his wife a winery would be to pair up with an established vineyard. His proposal was thus: a joint venture with Leonard, fifty-fifty, with small production of just five thousand cases. Both the Hollander and the de Villard names would be on the label. They would look for a parcel of land to start a new vineyard, but in the meantime, Hollander Estates would provide the grapes and make the wine for the joint venture until the new winery could provide for itself.

Now, all these years later, Vivian could still remember the sense of excitement on that trip, the belief that finally, after all the years of struggling to get their vineyard off the ground, things were going to change.

And change they did.

Vivian looked out at the field, but there was no sign of Leah. She picked up the copy of Chances and carried it back to the house. Maybe reading a few pages before bed wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

* * *

Leah followed Javier as he traversed the property heading toward Field House.

If Mateo was looking for another job, Javier had to know about the sale. She just hoped her father had ultimately done the right thing and told him directly—that Javier hadn’t found out from someone else first. Either way, she owed him an apology.

“Javier—do you have a minute?” she called out.

He stopped walking and waited for her to catch up with him.

“Has my father spoken to you about what’s going on?” she said.

“Yes. Your mother must be very sad.”

Her stomach churned. How very typical of Javier to be thinking of others even when his own livelihood and home were in jeopardy.

“It’s a shock,” Leah said. “But she’ll adjust. I’m concerned about you, though. And I have to apologize: Mateo asked me the other day if my father was selling the winery and . . . I lied. I said I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Javier shook his head. “He shouldn’t have asked you. It’s not your place to tell.”

“No—no. He had every right to ask. I just wish there was something I could do. But I can’t imagine that the new owners wouldn’t keep you on. Aside from my father, you’re the backbone of this