Forty-two
In early August, wet conditions were the enemy of the grapes. And so, when the drops began to fall in the early afternoon, swelling into a full-blown downpour by dinnertime, Leonard’s mood was a storm of its own.
“These grapes are the baron’s problem now,” Vivian said, trying to get him out of his funk. “The rain doesn’t matter.”
“It’s Hollander Estates’ final vintage. It matters to me,” he said.
Vivian had asked Peternelle to serve dinner indoors, at the oak dining table that seated thirty. The grandeur of the dining room gave her comfort. Above their heads, a three-tiered, nineteenth-century English openwork chandelier. The side console table was inspired by a George III design from the 1700s. With the curtains drawn, they could perhaps forget the weather. A little togetherness would help brighten everyone’s mood. She’d asked Peternelle to use her favorite dressage horse–themed custom china, as well as the Georgian silver. An extra place had been set by mistake; Asher said Bridget wasn’t coming. That was a first, and Vivian didn’t hide her surprise.
“She’s in the city. Visiting friends,” he said. But something about the obviously forced lightness of his tone made her wonder if there was more to the story. Were they not getting along? There had been a time when that would have given her relief. Now she took no pleasure in the thought.
Sadie was the first to arrive, wearing olive green cargo pants and a white V-neck T-shirt. Her curls were tucked behind her ears, her face free of makeup. She looked very young and more than a little melancholy. She chose the seat next to Vivian and kissed her on the cheek.
“Hi, Gran. You look nice.”
Vivian had made an effort to dress in a way that might bring some cheer; she wore a short-sleeve Chanel dress, pink knit cotton with white piping.
“I can’t believe how the weather turned,” Leah said. “I was out in the field this morning and it was so beautiful.”
The curtains were drawn, but the sound of rain pelting the windows echoed through the room. “Let’s not talk about the rain,” Vivian said. “Your father is in a foul mood because of it.”
Leonard walked into the room practically vibrating with tension. Peternelle uncorked a bottle of Cabernet Franc, but he waved it away.
“Just water for me tonight,” he said.
Vivian and Leah exchanged a glance.
“Peternelle, please clear this extra place setting,” Vivian said.
“It’s not extra,” Leonard said. “The baron’s joining us for dinner.”
“What on earth for?” Vivian said, not even trying to hide her dismay.
“He asked to stay at the house for the next few weeks. The hotel is not to his liking.”
“What? No. That’s out of the question,” she said.
“Don’t give me grief, Vivian,” Leonard said.
She leaned closer to him and whispered, “This is still our home—at least for the time being. Just let him sign the paperwork and write a check and keep some boundaries.”
“He hasn’t written the check yet,” Leonard whispered back. “And until he does, whatever it takes to make him feel invested in this place, so be it.”
She felt Leah looking at her but didn’t dare return her glance. Who knew what her eyes would reveal: Shame? Fear? She felt trapped at the table, trapped in the situation. She’d never felt so out of control in her life.
Leah tried making small talk, but Vivian couldn’t bring herself to contribute. She could barely breathe normally.
The baron arrived, sweeping into the room like a gust from the storm outside. He was dressed in a suit, a broad smile on his face. She saw his calculating eyes sweep over the room, homing in on Sadie.
“Young lady,” he said to her, “would you mind switching places? I prefer this side of the table.” Sadie glanced at Vivian like, Is the guy for real? but Leonard was already directing Peternelle to switch the place settings. The baron slid into the seat next to her, so close she could feel his body heat.
“What a beautiful family you have, Leonard,” he said. “You must be very proud.”
Vivian looked across the table at Leah, who had already made it clear how she felt about the baron—and this was without knowing the secret history between them. Oh, Vivian couldn’t imagine the shame if she ever found out. As much as she wanted to hold on to her home and the vineyard, the sale couldn’t happen soon enough. The baron’s presence was putting her entire world at risk. The sooner her family was able to separate from him, the better.
Peternelle served the first course, and Vivian went through the motions of eating. This was why people arranged all sorts of things around dinner; it provided a distraction, props, an excuse not to talk.
Somehow, the baron engaged Sadie in a discussion about a French literary critic, and Vivian reached for her wine. You can do this, she told herself. Just get through the meal.
And then she felt his hand on her thigh.
Something was going on. First, her grandmother jumped up from the table like the house was on fire. Then her mother followed her. Sadie excused herself, too. By the time she caught up with her mother, she was halfway up the central staircase.
“Mom! What’s wrong?”
She stopped and turned around. “I think selling this house is going to give Gran a nervous breakdown.”
Sadie could understand that. She’d been having a hard time thinking about losing the library. She glanced behind her, taking in the grand entrance hall. When she was a child, the vantage point had made her almost dizzy. The stairs had seemed endlessly vast, the stuff of storybook castles. She used to pretend she was Rapunzel trapped in a tower. It was a house of whimsy, of romanticism, of fantasy. She didn’t want to see it gone.
“There’s so much history here,” Sadie said. “I’m appreciating that now. You know what I found in the library? Grandpa’s old wine logs. They’re so intricate—like chemistry books.”
Her mother perked up. “Really? I want to see them.”
The library was hot and humid. It had absorbed all the heat of the day, the heavy curtains trapping it inside. The rain pattered against the large windows, but when Leah flipped on the air-conditioning, the gentle hum drowned out the sound of it.
“They’re on the second level,” Sadie said, leading the way up the stairs.
“My mother saves everything,” Leah said when Sadie pulled the first ledger from the shelf and handed it to her.
Leah pulled a few of the books into her arms and flipped through the pages. “I wish I knew everything my father knew about winemaking. I feel like his expertise combined with my willingness to look at things differently could lead to a solution.”
Sadie tried to think of anything she could offer, any insight she’d gleaned from her brief time with Mateo. And then she remembered something.
“Would it help to sell grapes to another vineyard? I was in Mateo’s office—um, helping out—and someone called from another vineyard looking to buy from Grandpa.” That day had been the first time she kissed Mateo, out in the field. It hurt to think about it. How could that have only been three weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime. With every day that passed, it became more and more clear he wasn’t going to come around: she was part of the Hollander family, he was an employee. End of story.
“Selling grapes just leaves us less for production. There are already empty barrels in the oak room,” her mother said. “But if we bring in outside grapes, we won’t be an estates winery. I think at one point they wanted to acquire more land, but it didn’t happen.”
She slipped the notebooks into her handbag. “I’m keeping a few. Soon, there won’t be much evidence of Hollander Estates. This time next year, someone else’s name will be out front. On the bottles. All of this will be history. Like your great-great-grandfather’s winery in Argentina.”
“Oh, Mom. It’ll be okay.”
“I wonder where all of these books will end up,” Leah said, reaching for a crowded shelf and pulling a few novels into her arms. One of the books, Mistral’s Daughter, was by Judith Krantz—the same author who wrote Scruples. Sadie reached for it and opened to the description. When she looked up, her mother was studying her.
“Can I ask you something?” Leah said. “Where did you run off to the night of the book club?”
Sadie had wondered if her mother would ask her about that night, but after a few weeks passed, she felt like she was in the clear. It’s not that she would have minded confiding in her mother—there had been moments when she wanted to shout her feelings for Mateo from the rooftop. But there was no point getting into it now.
If she should be talking to anyone, she realized, it should be Mateo. Yes, she felt rejected. But look at what the impending sale was doing to her grandmother—she couldn’t even make it through a meal. It was keeping her parents apart since her mother refused to leave while her father had to work in the city. Bridget and Asher had to replan their wedding. Mateo was under the same stress.
“Sorry, Mom, I just remembered there’s somewhere I need to be,” she said, handing the book back to her.
“You’re going out? It’s pouring . . .”
Sadie was already rushing down the stairs.
When Leonard didn’t come to bed, Vivian went looking for him. Failing to find him anywhere in the house, she pulled on a raincoat and boots and made her way to the dark winery. The rain pelted her so hard it made her heart beat fast. She found shelter under the veranda but didn’t see Leonard until she walked halfway across it. He sat in a chair staring out at the vineyard with a drink in his hand—a whiskey tumbler, not a wineglass.
“Mind some company?” she said, pulling up a chair next to him.
He sipped his drink and said nothing. In the distance, an animal rustled in the grass.
When they first moved to the North Fork, the proximity to wildlife was surprising. Her childhood summers in East Hampton had not brought her many encounters with foxes, turkeys, brazen racoons, or feral cats. In the early days, there had been a few times when an animal crossed her path and she let out a startled yelp that brought Leonard running.
He had always been her protector. And whatever happened next, she knew he would protect her still.
“Leonard, it’s going to be okay,” she said.
He turned to her. “I don’t blame you for being disappointed in me. I’m upset with myself.”
“I’m not disappointed in you,” she said. “You created this life for us. I wouldn’t have wanted anything else.”
He reached for her hand. “I love you. You know that, right?”
She looked into his eyes. “Of course. That’s never been a question.” She swallowed hard. “Leonard, I’m not upset with you. If anything, I blame myself . . .”
He nodded, but it was as if he were only half there.
She couldn’t tell him the truth. It would shatter him. Whatever the burden of having the baron around, she could bear it for a few more weeks. No matter the ups and downs with their children, with money, with the winery, their marriage was the one thing she could hold on to. She took comfort in that. She hoped, when the sale was finalized and the shock of it all had eased, that Leonard would find comfort in it, too.
“I think the faster we move on, the better. Do you think the papers will be signed soon?” she said.
“Our attorneys are working on it. But it’s a process.”
“Still, it’s just a matter of weeks, though. Right?”
He nodded. “Yes. But one of the conditions of the sale is that the baron asked me to stay on for a year. To help with the transition. But the good news is that he’ll also keep most of the staff.”
Vivian pulled her hand back. “What? He expects us to stay here after the sale?”
Leonard nodded. “For continuity.”
“No. We’re not doing that,” she said.
“I’m afraid we are,” he said. “I’ve already agreed.”