Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,56

rosé. They buy back old vintages of rosé from Manhattan restaurants because they only want the current rosé available. And because they are so powerful and because they control the market around the world, every other winery now does that.”

“Okay, so—”

“So if you have leftover rosé, restaurants won’t buy it. You’re stuck holding the bag. I’m not playing that game. You hear me?”

“Yes,” she said. “I hear you.”

How could she not? His voice was raised. But she would not be shouted down. She would not be shut out.

Not this time.

Twenty-seven

Leah tried to luxuriate in the natural beauty of her surroundings, to find peace in the moment. Sitting poolside, she turned the pages of the paperback copy of Chances she’d bought to replace the copy she couldn’t find. Up above, the evening sky was streaked with pink and gold. It looked like a painting, like something Leah had conjured by sheer force of longing. Next to her, Sadie curled up in a chair, staring at her phone.

As much as the book kept her turning the pages, she found herself underlining passages that got under her skin.

Gino was just going to have to realize the fact that he was no longer boss. No sirree. She wasn’t about to give it all up. Power—the ultimate aphrodisiac. She was in control. She planned to stay in control. And he was just going to have to accept that fact.

Reading this, Leah couldn’t help but think that she was no Lucky Santangelo. She wasn’t going to usurp her father. She couldn’t even get him to take her seriously in a conversation. She should just go home to her husband. Her husband, who was freezing her out. Or maybe he was just busy. Either way, it had been almost twenty-four hours since she and Steven had talked.

“I was wondering where you two were.” Vivian walked out carrying a glass of wine and . . . the copy of Chances that Leah had been looking for.

“Mom, is that my book?”

“No. It’s my book,” Vivian said.

“Yeah, but I asked you if you’d seen it . . . Oh, never mind.” She was just happy her mother took her suggestion to heart. “Mom, I forgot to ask you before: Was the book club your idea?”

“No,” Vivian said. “If you must know, it was Delphine’s.”

Leah hadn’t heard that name in a long time. Delphine Fabron was the niece of her father’s former business partner. She’d come from France to live with them for a while when Leah was in middle school. She’d worshipped the woman—it was like having a beautiful and slightly naughty big sister. Now that she thought about it, she did remember Delphine at the book club. But then her father fired Delphine. Her parents argued about it. And it was around that time that the book club seemed to end.

“Did you stop hosting the book club because she left?” Leah said.

“Oh, who remembers,” Vivian said, suddenly very busy examining the book cover.

“That’s what the journal was for—to keep track of things,” Sadie said. “Right?”

Leah shot her a warning look. Vivian turned to them both.

“Okay, you two: Who went through my things? You had no business invading my privacy like that!”

Sadie bit her lip. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I was just looking for more photo albums.”

“How did you even get the compartment open?”

“I picked the lock with a mechanical pencil,” Sadie said, glancing at her.

Vivian glared in her direction.

Leah held up her hands. “Yes, I knew about it. Guilty as charged. But in my defense, I only read a few lines of the journal. In fact, we lost track of it. I only saw it once.”

“And that’s the last you will see of it; I have it now, safe from you savages,” Vivian said. Leah could tell from the relaxed set of her mouth that she wasn’t truly angry—just mildly annoyed.

“Gran, I’m sorry for going through your stuff. But the truth is I’m really interested in your thoughts on the books,” Sadie said.

“Whatever I thought of the books was a lifetime ago. It hardly matters.”

“Well, there’s just a lot of stuff in here that’s sketchy to me,” Sadie pressed. “All that violence against women . . .”

Leah leaned forward. “You’re reading Chances, too?”

“Sort of. On my phone. I was curious about what had you so excited,” she said sheepishly. “It’s pretty bad.”

“Bad? The story is ambitious—Gino’s entire life,” Vivian said.

“I thought you said you didn’t remember what you thought,” Leah said.

“Well,” Vivian said, “I might have reread a