Twenty

Leah took her place at the dinner table. A light breeze blew off the nearby bay. The veranda was pleasant except for the buzz of mosquitos. Peternelle lit citronella candles.

“To good health,” Leonard said, raising his glass of Pinot Noir. If he was fazed by the impending sale, he didn’t let it show. Her mother, on the other hand, was in a mood and refused to take off her sunglasses even as daylight began to fade.

“Sounds great, Dad,” Asher said.

“Would you mind if I had vodka tonight?” Bridget said. “I’m trying to cut carbs. We can’t have a puffy bride.”

“Young lady, at my table we drink wine,” Leonard said.

Leah wouldn’t have minded some hard liquor herself. Before dinner, she’d had a conversation with her father that left her frustrated and more anxious than ever. He’d been on the phone in his office, and she stood in the doorway, waiting for him to finish so she could talk to him. He waved her in, and she sat in the threadbare armchair across from his desk. Despite the many renovations and upgrades of the main house and other parts of the winery over the years, her father had had the same office furniture since the day he moved in.

She waited, feeling inexplicably nervous. She had a right to an opinion, didn’t she?

“What’s on your mind?” he’d said when he finished the call.

“I wanted to talk to you about the winery, Dad. Are you sure selling is the only thing to do? It seems so . . . permanent.”

Leonard leaned back in his chair, smoothing one of his brows. “Did your mother put you up to this?”

“What? No. I’m concerned. Maybe I can help you—”

He waved the comment aside. “I know you run a little shop in the city, but this is a different ball game, my dear.”

“A little shop? Dad, I’ve had a successful business for almost two decades in one of the most competitive retail environments in the country.”

“Leah, no need to get defensive. I’m not trying to diminish your accomplishments with the shop.” He leaned forward. “But it’s not a winery.”

Leah knew there was no sense debating her merits as a businessperson. Her father was stubborn, and he existed within a world of his own logic, and that logic included the idea that winemaking was a man’s business.

Sometimes she’d wondered why he spent so much time with her out in the fields as a girl if he never intended for her to help run the place. She’d decided it was both love and ego: As a father, he enjoyed seeing her delight in discovery of the vines. He couldn’t imagine any of his offspring not having a deep knowledge of wine. But as a winemaker, neither of these could overcome the fact that he couldn’t imagine having a daughter as a business partner.

“I can think of some ways to increase revenue,” she said.

“Leah, I’m sorry you’re having a hard time with what’s happening, and I’m willing to hear you out so you can get your feelings off your chest. But ultimately, you need to let it go. And please don’t start getting your mother’s hopes up. The sale is as good as done.”

“If it’s as good as done, then why haven’t you told Javier yet?”

He began to say something, then stopped. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, Leah. Please extend to me at least that degree of respect.” After that, he seemed considerably less open to conversation.

Across the table, Bridget reached for the wine. Leah noticed that her engagement ring was different; the antique had been replaced with a small, heart-shaped diamond set in a simple platinum band.

“Oh, you changed your ring?”

“This one’s just a little more modern,” Bridget said, extending her hand and admiring it.

Why was Asher spending money on jewelry when it was clear money must be an issue? Sometimes the family dysfunction was too much to take. No wonder Steven rushed back to the city.

“What? So where’s my mother’s ring?” Leonard said.

“I’ll give it back to you, Dad,” said Asher.

“Damn right you will.”

“No offense, Mr. Hollander. It’s just that these days, girls want to have a say in their engagement rings. It’s, like, a reflection of their personality, you know?”

“Why even wear rings?” Sadie said. “If you want to be modern about it, don’t let yourself be marked as someone else’s property.”

“Sadie, please,” Leah said.

“Oh, I think rings are so romantic! I would never not wear one,” Bridget said. “Also, Leah, I wanted to know if you would be my maid of honor at the wedding.”

“Matron,” Vivian corrected. “She’s a matron.”

“So you settled on a date?” Leah asked, stalling. Surely Bridget had a friend or a relative who could do the honors. They barely knew each other.

Leah checked her phone, trying not to feel bothered by Steven’s empty seat next to her. Her husband had not abandoned her. She was the one who had decided to stay behind. They’d had a perfectly amiable text conversation before dinner. Everything was fine.

“Labor Day weekend,” Asher said. “We want to get married here before the new owners take over.”

Leah nodded. That made sense. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen a wedding at the winery her entire visit. During past summers, she had seen several over the course of a weekend.

“Speaking of weddings,” she said to her father, “did you book any for this summer? I’m surprised I haven’t walked into the middle of one yet.” She smiled to show she was just making light conversation, not questioning how the winery was being run. Although she was starting to have questions. The bulk of their on-site retail business was done through weddings and organized tastings on weekends, and she had the sense they weren’t booking enough of them. Plus, there had to be something they could host during weekdays or evenings.

“Of course we have weddings booked,” he said.

Peternelle brought out littlenecks and hand-shucked oysters.

“This is the mignonette sauce, and this is spicy cocktail,” she said. “The zucchini cups are coming.”

“You guys should do more with social media. I could shoot short videos of the weddings for Insta,” Bridget said.

“That’s a good idea,” Leah said, aware of the fact that she hadn’t yet accepted the matron of honor position. But it seemed Bridget had either already forgotten her request, or just assumed the answer was yes.

“Yeah, Dad,” Asher said. “Companies pay Bridget to post their products.”

“That’s very cool,” Sadie said. “One of my dormmates is an influencer. She makes a lot of money. I told you about her, Mom. The one who gave us all the freebie furniture to decorate with?”

Leah nodded, distracted. “You know what I noticed on the veranda today? It was mostly women. I feel like there used to be more couples.”

“Maybe they were couples, Mom,” Sadie said.

Leah shot her a look. “What I mean is, there seem to be fewer men.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right about that,” Asher said. “A beer distillery opened down the road. So now women come here for wine and their boyfriends and husbands bro-out over a few beers.”

“So you’ve lost half your customers?” Leah said, shocked.

“I told Dad we should start serving beer, right, Dad?” Asher said.

“Over my dead body,” said Leonard.

“I think it’s fun that it’s mostly women,” Bridget said.

“Children, I’d like to relax over a nice meal. Enough with the shop talk,” Leonard said.

Leah finished her wine. It was excellent: rich, full-bodied, complex. Her father knew how to make exceptional wine. Her parents had been pioneers. They’d had a good run. They had started it, and now they would have to finish it. Why was she letting this bother her so much? Was it just empathy for her mother? Or had she believed, on some level, that there would be a time when someone—her father, her mother, maybe even Asher—realized that she belonged there?

If she had been waiting for that day, clearly she’d waited too long.