Thirty-nine
The past was the past. It was very important that Vivian hold on to that fact. On the day the baron was scheduled to arrive for an extended visit, the winery closed to the public so he could explore the property in private. His arrival was set for noon, and lunch was being prepared on the veranda.
Leonard took her hand as they descended the stairs. Midway down, the grand entrance hall in view, she nearly swooned from anxiety. She leaned into Leonard for support, and he squeezed her hand, thinking she was being affectionate.
Outside, she broke into a sweat even though it wasn’t especially hot, her dress clinging to her back. Vivian had been uncharacteristically uncertain about what to wear. She decided on a navy shift dress, Chanel flats, and a vintage gold and mother-of-pearl necklace from Van Cleef.
They walked through the pergola in silence. The sun was bright, the moist air redolent of the late-blooming flowers lining their path. She glanced at Leonard, his jaw set in determination.
Leonard could be difficult sometimes, but he wasn’t a hypocrite. He always told her and the kids it was important to do the right thing when it was hard, not just when it was easy. Now he was doing something he felt he had to do even though it felt nearly impossible. She knew he was struggling with this decision. He tossed and turned beside her all night long, every night. He wasn’t eating. It was bad enough to have to sell Hollander Estates—but to sell to a man who’d broken a previous partnership, leaving him in the lurch? If she’d ever doubted that Leonard had any option other than to sell, she no longer did.
They crossed the veranda. The table was set in a color scheme of navy and yellow, with a patterned runner and sunflowers in silver vases. The menu: a kale salad with pine nuts and roasted chicken in a Grand Marnier sauce paired with their Chardonnay and Pinot Noir.
They reached the front of the winery just as a black Mercedes SUV pulled up. The driver stepped out and opened the rear passenger door.
The man who emerged was thicker than she remembered him to be, with slicked-back gray hair. The baron had aged, but his sharply cut suit, his oversize watch, his wingtip shoes . . . every inch of him broadcast his wealth and privilege. He might not be young and handsome any longer, but he carried himself like a man to be reckoned with.
His pale eyes went first to Leonard.
“Good to see you, old friend,” he said, holding out his hand to Leonard. “What a pleasure to be back chez Hollander.” He turned to her. “Vivian. It’s been a long time.”
The baron scanned her from head to toe in appraisal, not greeting. He nodded, a near imperceptible gesture that said, I like what I see. She shuddered.
“Welcome,” Leonard said. “We thought we’d start with lunch, if you’re amenable.”
The baron smiled, baring his teeth. “Perfect. Lead the way.”
Vivian let the two men walk ahead.
The sparkling, crisp beauty of the day made the meeting that much more agonizing: The sun was bright, not a cloud in the sky. The air was delightfully low in humidity, a gentle breeze blowing off the nearby shores. As they took seats around the table, Vivian kept her back to the vineyard; for once, the view would not bring her joy.
Peternelle cleared away the extra place settings; the baron hadn’t told them ahead of time if he was bringing an entourage.
The tasting room manager filled their wineglasses. Before Leonard could raise a glass to their guest, the baron stood. He took a pointed look around, as if surveying his domain. She realized, with a start, that he was, in fact, surveying his domain.
Leonard paled. It was one thing to know you had to sell, to negotiate dollars and cents with lawyers and to plan a way forward. But it was quite another to see another man stand at the head of his own table.
“To old friends,” the baron said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It was a disappointment that things didn’t work out those many years ago. But here we are, together again.” With this he looked at Vivian. “I look forward to an arrangement that will satisfy all of us this time.”
Sadie stood in the doorway of the office, waiting for Mateo to look up and notice her. When he did, she felt the usual frisson upon eye contact. Would she ever get used to being near him, or would his very presence always set her off-kilter?
“Lock the door,” he said. Just the words made her knees go weak.
He left his seat and sat on the edge of his desk. She moved to stand between his knees, and he kissed her.
“You’re late today,” he said. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
“My grandparents are having a meeting at the winery,” she said, breathing in the scent of him. “We’re in the clear.”
She had visited the barn every morning before sunrise. They could barely wait to lock the door before shedding their clothes, their touch as perfectly choreographed as that of longtime lovers, but at the same time as raw and potent as the meeting of strangers. Sex with Mateo felt profound. It was life-changing, and it was beginning to feel as necessary as oxygen.
But unlike the night in the field when they were covered by darkness and in solitude, their morning meetings meant risking Leonard’s discovery when he made his rounds in the vineyard. Typically, Sadie would dash off quickly, just as the first morning light peeked into the room around the edges of the drawn shade. But today, she knew Vivian and Leonard were hosting lunch on the veranda, so she and Mateo had time to luxuriate in each other’s company for a few minutes. They lay side by side on the floor, holding hands, breathless.
“I think your mother knows about us,” he said, turning to her.
“What? No way. Trust me—the only thing she’s thinking about is the winery.”
“I don’t know. She definitely seemed to be looking at me in a weird way yesterday.”
“In what way?”
“In an ‘are you sleeping with my daughter’ way.”
Sadie laughed. She didn’t care if her mother knew. She wanted the whole world to know. Mateo was the one who was into secrecy. He didn’t want his father or her grandfather to find out, and she respected his wishes.
She asked him about his own mother, Maria Eugenia, whom she’d learned had left the winery after he went to college.
“She missed her mother and sisters back in Guatemala and was lonely here with my dad spending twelve hours a day in the field. It was frustrating for her, too, because she was from an agriculture family, but aside from your grandmother back in the day, all the workers here are men,” he said. “Like I said, it was her idea to use noncommercial yeast. Back home, she really contributes.”
“How often do you see her?” Sadie asked.
“We visit once a year, usually at Christmas. She used to come in August during fruit set, when the weather here is good, but we also have time before the intense workdays of harvest. But she hasn’t come for the past few years. She’s getting older, and I think she’s just waiting for my father to retire and come ‘home.’”
“Is that what he wants?”
“I don’t think so. This has been his home for forty years. He’s a citizen now. I never thought he’d actually leave. Leonard promised him Field House—that even after he retired, it would be his home. My father always believed he’d convince her to come back then. But with the sale of the winery, that’s never going to happen.”
“I feel terrible. My grandfather would never do this if it weren’t his only option.”
“He isn’t thinking about my father’s options. Or mine. If things are this bad, he’s known about it for a long time. We deserved a warning.”
Sadie’s stomach churned with guilt, and the fact that it was just guilt by association didn’t make it any less sickening.
“I think . . . I think they’re still trying to turn it around.”
“How? By meeting with the new buyer today?” She hadn’t given him that detail, and the omission must have seemed like a betrayal—like she was colluding with her family while keeping Mateo and Javier in the dark.
He pulled away from her. “I should get to work.”
She sat up, pulling on her T-shirt, trying not to feel rebuffed. She tried to get him to meet her eyes, but he busied himself getting dressed and then started arranging things on his desk.
“I’m not my grandfather, you know,” she said.
He didn’t look at her. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say. I know that.”
“So what, then? You just totally checked out.”
He sighed impatiently.
“It’s complicated, Sadie. That’s what I was trying to tell you from that first day. Look, I like spending time with you. I do. You’re smart and you care about things like art and you love your family and I know you think about things deeply. Not to mention the fact that I’m really, really attracted to you. But this . . .” He pointed back and forth between them. “It can’t go anywhere. And I don’t want you to get hurt. So let’s just quit while we’re ahead.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to dial that back—to say that wasn’t what he meant. She ached for him to look at her, to give her a sign that he was conflicted, that there was room for discussion. A terrible thought occurred to her: Was this a revenge thing? Her grandfather messed with his livelihood, so he was messing with her?
No. That wasn’t possible. Still, she felt stupid. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to.
She let herself out of the office and forced herself not to look back. He’d realize he was wrong about this.
Wouldn’t he?