Forty-eight

Leah stood in a secluded stretch of grass behind the barn, angling her phone to avoid the glare of the sun. Steven, on the other end of the video call, stood behind the counter at the cheese shop. She could see the shelves filled with jars of olives and packages of crackers.

“So your mother didn’t have an affair?” he said.

“No. But enough of a line was crossed that my dad is going to have a real problem.” She hadn’t heard from Vivian since their conversation the day before and didn’t know when—or if—she was going to talk to Leonard. Either way, Leah’s conscience was clear now that she’d said her piece.

“So what’s your plan?” Steven said, clearly impatient.

“You mean, as far as coming home?”

“Leah, I don’t want to be the bad guy here. But one minute we’re about to make an offer on a new space, and the next you’re gone again.”

“I know, I know. But this was a conversation I had to have in person.”

“I understand that. And you did. So are you coming back now?”

“I mean, if there’s nothing for me to do here, then yes, I’ll leave . . .” Leah averted her eyes from the screen and saw her father a few yards away. It seemed he was just doing his routine inspection of the grapes, but then it became clear he was headed toward her. “Let me call you back. My dad’s here.”

Leonard’s face was half-hidden by his black Hollander Estates baseball cap, but as he drew closer she could see the white stubble along his jaw. His gait was slow; it was as if he had aged overnight. She knew, in that moment, that her mother had told him about her history with the baron. Her heart ached for both of them.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, his breathing labored.

“Just taking a walk,” she said, reaching into her bag for her water bottle. “Drink something, Dad. You look . . . tired.”

He waved it away.

“Remember all the times I brought you out here as a little girl?” he said.

“Of course.”

“When I used to thin the crops you’d insist on collecting all the fruit off the ground.”

Leah smiled. As a girl, seeing the discarded grapes on the ground seemed unnatural. She’d gather them up and stick them in her pockets or in a straw basket she carried with her. It seemed sad to leave them in the grass like that, even though they were hard and inedible and, off the vine, would never ripen.

“You were always so enamored with the plants,” he said.

“I still am.” Their eyes met, the deep brown a mirror image of her own. Yes, she’d shared his passion for the vineyard, and whether it was by nature or by nurture, she would never know. And it never mattered—at least not to him. She had been cast aside in favor of his heir apparent, his only son. It was a story as old as time, but it felt uniquely theirs in light of how things were turning out.

“I know I haven’t been . . . welcoming to your suggestions this summer,” he said.

“Or ever,” she said, crossing her arms.

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you see a way forward?”

“Are you saying you want my help?” she said, her pulse racing.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and they faced each other in a way that felt both intimate and adversarial. “I’m calling a production meeting for later in the week. I’d like for you to attend.”

Leah felt breathless. It was the first acknowledgment, in her entire life, that he took her seriously. She was finally not the little girl at his knee, but a person who had something to offer in her own right.

At least, she hoped she did.

“I’ll be there,” she said.

---

Vivian cut through the water with sharp, determined strokes. It was impossible to cry while swimming. In the pool, she felt almost normal; the hammering of her heart was from exertion instead of despair. She had a set course in front of her: just back and forth. Move her arms, move her legs. That was all she had to think about. That was all she had to do.

But even the rhythmic laps couldn’t quiet her mind. Leonard had slept in a guest room, and she hadn’t seen him all morning. She didn’t know what he was thinking about her; she didn’t know what he was thinking at all.

Twenty minutes in, she switched to the breast stroke. During one of her laps toward the house, through the blur of her wet goggles, she saw what she thought was Leonard approaching the pool. She felt even more buoyant; he wanted to spend time with her. He would forgive her. But as he drew closer, she realized it was not, in fact, Leonard.

It was the baron.

Furious, she swam to the shallow end, keeping herself submerged in the water from the neck down and pushing up her goggles. The baron was dressed in a button-down shirt, slacks, and loafers without socks. His phone was in one hand, a bottle of mineral water in the other.

“I want some privacy,” she said. “Please leave.”

Possibly the only upside to making her confession to Leonard was that the baron no longer had anything over her. She didn’t have to put up with his harassment.

“That’s not very hospitable of you,” he said, sitting on one of the lounge chairs.

“Fine. Then I’ll leave.”

She climbed out of the pool, rushing to grab a beach towel and cover herself. “You know what’s been bothering me all these weeks?” she said, tightening the towel into a snug wrap. “I’m looking back and wondering why on earth I was interested in you for even a minute.”

“Now, now, Vivian—nastiness isn’t becoming on you. Perhaps you need a vacation. Where would you like to go?”

“I’ll tell you where you can go . . .” Movement at the back of the deck near the house caught her eye, and she saw Leonard making his way toward them.

The baron followed her gaze and stood.

Vivian’s pulse began to race. Leonard had seemed so weary lately, but she immediately saw the determined set of his jaw, a certain spark in his eyes.

“Leonard,” the baron said, his face pulled into a tight smile. “Don’t tell me you’re done working for the day. I’m sure those grapes need your attention.”

Leonard grabbed the baron by his collar and punched him squarely in the face. Stunned, the baron staggered, and Leonard stepped forward to shove him into the pool. Vivian instinctively jumped away from the splash of water.

She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, but after the initial moment of shock she felt a flood of relief. Leonard might be down, but he wasn’t out. He was still a fighter.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” the baron sputtered.

“No. But you’re out of a vineyard,” Leonard said. “Get the hell off my property. Security will see you out.”

The baron climbed up one of the side ladders, shaking water out of his eyes.

“You’re ruined, Hollander,” he said. “This place is finished.”

Leonard’s response was to summon their security team, waiting for his cue nearby. Two men took the baron by each arm. He shook one of them off, muttering something about assault charges.

When he was gone, Vivian turned to her husband.

“Fifty years together, and you can still surprise me,” she said, smiling and hoping he might find some lightness in the moment.

That he might find it in his heart to continue loving her.

“You should have told me sooner, Vivian,” he said.

And then, shoulders slumped, he walked back into the house.