Chapter Thirty-five
Thirty-five
Ginny
Nearly four months ago now, I left Black Bear, my family, and everything I thought I needed behind.
My plan was to stay with Sadie and Beckett until I figured things out, but then Ryker invited me to his place one night. It wasn’t supposed to be permanent, but eventually, I stopped leaving.
So now, I’m staying with Ryker, not Sadie and Beckett, though we never made it official. Never had the talk. It just happened. I started keeping a few things at his place. Then more. Eventually, we stopped pretending I didn’t live here.
It’s the easiest relationship I’ve ever had—free of performance, pretense, and the need for walking on eggshells.
We just work. He makes me laugh when I forget how. He brings me coffee in the morning like it’s instinct. He kisses my shoulder when he thinks I’m still asleep.
And for once in my life, I don’t feel like I have to be someone else just to be loved.
Today, Ryker’s coming with me to Marshall. It’s on the northern tip of Little Black Bear Lake and almost a two-hour drive. It’s a long way to go for dinner, but I hope it will be worth the journey.
I haven’t seen my dad since he left, though I’ve talked to him on the phone a time or two, and we reconnected after everything exploded with Evelyn.
I figured he would understand, and he has.
He’s been supportive about what happened, and he knows I’m working for the consortium now.
I’ve been helping promote the boutique wineries and organizing the fall showcase.
He’s proud, I think. In his way. I’m not sure what going to see him is going to accomplish, but it feels like something I need to do.
As I’m clearing the last few things off my desk for the day, Marc Warner, the director of the consortium, drops into the seat across from me and slides a coffee my way. “You look like you’ve already run a marathon.”
“I’m pacing myself,” I joke, taking the cup. “Thanks for this. We’ve got four events next week. And I promised to finalize the copy for the artisan series before I leave town.”
“You’re heading up to Marshall, right?”
“Yeah. Visiting my dad. Ryker’s coming.”
Marc raises an eyebrow. “Good man. You’re building something solid.”
I look down at my planner, suddenly shy. “That wasn’t the plan when it started.”
“Plans are overrated,” he says. “Besides, I’ve seen you build more from scratch in three months than most people do in three years.”
I give him a half smile. “Thanks for giving me a chance, even after Evelyn decided not to.”
He laughs. “Evelyn called me a spineless bureaucrat in front of a full board meeting three years ago. It’s practically a badge of honor.”
That makes me smile. Marc’s been one of the few people who doesn’t flinch when the Dempsey name comes up. He seems to see me as Ginny, not Evelyn’s granddaughter or a Dempsey problem to manage. And he trusts that I have skills of my own. He’s giving me room to figure out who I want to be.
My phone pings while I’m packing the mock-ups.
Ryker: You want me to drive? Or are we pretending I’m just tagging along and you still have something to prove? ??
I laugh under my breath
Me: You drive. I’ll pretend I’m letting you.
Now, I’m grinning like an idiot.
A few minutes later, Ryker is standing at my office door, flipping his keys in his hand. “Let’s get a move on. The traffic is going to be a mess.”
I roll my eyes. Mess is relative. People here think if you can’t drive forty kilometers over the speed limit, there are too many people on the roads. But we do want to arrive before dark, so I finish putting everything in my bag and let Marc know I’ll see him on Monday.
The drive takes over two hours, but with Ryker behind the wheel and the windows down, it flies by. We don’t talk much. It’s just an easy journey of shared playlists, pointed glances, and the occasional sarcastic jab when he skips a turn on the GPS he insisted we didn’t need.
When we finally pull onto the long dirt driveway, I sit up straighter. I’ve never been here before. I knew Dad had land, that he was finally pursuing the dream he’d put off for most of his life, but seeing it in person? That’s something else.
Rows of young vines stretch across the slope, still small and a little wild, but perfectly trellised. There’s something tender about the whole place, like it’s still learning how to become what it wants to be.
“They’re maybe two years old,” I murmur to Ryker as we park near a collection of buildings. “Still a couple more seasons before the grapes are mature enough for winemaking.”
“They’re healthy,” Ryker says, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Vines like this…someone’s putting in the work.”
As if summoned, my dad walks out from the barn, with dust on his boots and a wide grin spreading across his face. He pulls me into a full-body hug that smells like sunshine and fresh earth and home.
“Alaric’s been keeping me updated,” he says gruffly, arms still tight around me. “But seeing you in person…” He pulls back to look me in the eyes. “It’s better.”
I swallow hard and nod. “It’s good to see you too.”
He shakes Ryker’s hand, gives him a onceover that’s more curious than protective, and gestures toward the vineyard. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”
We walk for nearly an hour while he talks about his planting schedule, his irrigation system, and the blends he’s hoping to try once the grapes come in.
He’s got five hundred acres—nowhere near the scale of Paradise or Black Bear—but it doesn’t matter.
That’s still a lot of land. He’s proud. And that pride is infectious.
“This place… It’s yours,” I say, imagining what that must be like.
He shrugs, modest as always. “I don’t need to be big. Just want to make a wine people enjoy. Something honest.”
I glance at Ryker, who’s walking next to me, fingers brushing mine. Something honest. I know the feeling.
As we head back to the house, a woman steps out onto the porch. She’s in maybe her mid-sixties, with silver hair pulled back in a low bun and the kind of smile that makes you feel safe.
“This is Viola,” Dad says. “Viola Burton. My partner.”
Viola steps down and wraps me in a gentle hug, like she’s known me longer than a moment. “So happy to finally meet you. I’ve heard so many good things.”
Her warmth is genuine, and I feel something settle in my chest, some deep, fractured part of me softening at the edges as I introduce Ryker.
We step inside, and Viola brings out lemonade and fresh scones. Ryker charms them both without even trying. My dad keeps looking over like he’s memorizing me, and I realize how much I’ve missed him. How long I’ve been pretending I didn’t need him.
With Evelyn as his mother, I’ve never understood how he turned out so kind.
So sensitive. Alaric has always told me how much he cares about us.
But I don’t think I fully believed it until today.
Maybe Dad’s background is exactly why he became the man he is.
Maybe he knew what it felt like to be pushed to the edges and decided never to do the same.
Maybe he made a silent promise to himself to do better, to love softer, to never let his kids feel the way he once did.
As the sun starts to dip, my dad squeezes my hand.
“I’m proud of you, Gin.”
“Thanks, Dad.” It’s surreal to have someone view my actions in an entirely different way. I want to be brave enough to view them that way myself.
The table is already set, and something warm and buttery is baking in the oven. Ryker and I exchange a glance, and he nods before I can even ask.
Viola has made a mushroom risotto that might be the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks—creamy, earthy, perfectly salted. She serves it with a crisp white blend from a nearby winery and a simple salad with shaved fennel and lemon. And also fresh bread.
The conversation is light. Easy. My dad tells old stories about me trying to grow grapes in pots on the patio when I was a kid. Ryker listens, engaged, even laughing at the terrible puns my dad can’t help slipping in. Viola watches us closely, but not in a suspicious way. More like she’s hopeful.
It’s all so different from the way I grew up, so much gentler. Then the conversation turns to weddings, specifically Sadie’s.
“We’re heading into the final stretch,” I say, setting my fork down with a little sigh. “It’s coming up fast.”
Viola lights up. “You’re in the wedding party, right?”
I nod. “Maid of honor. And Ryker’s the best man, so we’ve got front-row seats for the excitement.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful,” Viola says. “Sadie’s the one you were close to growing up?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. “She’s like a sister. And I do think it’s going to be lovely. Honestly, she’s been the opposite of a bridezilla, but there are just so many details. The rehearsal dinner, final fittings, gift bags, speeches, the seating chart—” I laugh. “I feel like I’m always behind.”
Viola squeezes my hand. “You’ll get it all done. And if you don’t, no one will notice. They’ll be too busy watching you all shine.”
My dad chuckles. “Caleb and Beckett were always tight. I’m glad he’s marrying Caleb’s little sister. I remember them as kids—inseparable. It’s nice to see how far they’ve come.”
“It really is,” I say. “And Sadie deserves this. She’s been through a lot.”
“What’s your dress like?” Viola asks, eyes twinkling.
I grin. “It’s simple. A deep wine-colored silk with a sweetheart neckline. Tea-length, fitted bodice. I’m wearing nude stiletto sandals with it.”
Viola sighs. “Oh, Ginny, you’re going to look stunning. Please tell me you’ll send pictures.”
“I will,” I promise, and it’s not a polite lie. I actually want to. “I think the dress is the only part I’m one-hundred-percent ready for.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” she says. “You’re going to make that aisle sparkle, maid of honor or not.”
I’m not used to compliments without strings, but with Viola, it doesn’t feel like an act. My cheeks flush a little, but it’s nice. This sort of approval is something I didn’t realize I’d been missing.
Ryker nudges me under the table, a smile on his face like he knows exactly what I’m feeling. And maybe he does.
After dinner, I follow Viola into the kitchen to help with the dishes while Ryker and my dad wander out toward the rows of vines with a pair of tumblers and a bottle of something red.
Viola hands me a tea towel and smiles. “He talks about you a lot, you know.”
I pause, surprised. “Dad? He does?”
“All the time.” She rinses a wineglass and hands it to me. “He’s proud. And he’s worried. But mostly proud.”
My throat tightens. “I haven’t exactly made things…easy.”
Viola shrugs. “You’ve been figuring out who you are. That’s never easy. But it’s necessary.”
We fall into a rhythm—washing, drying, stacking—and I find it oddly soothing. Like I’m slipping into a life that could’ve been mine if things had gone a little differently.
“I’ve seen Alaric a few times,” Viola says after a pause. “He comes by for lunch when he’s in town.”
I nod. “He’s good to Ryker,” I say softly. “They don’t like each other much, but they respect each other. And that counts for something.”
“I think there’s a reason Alaric went into psychology. I can tell he’s good at it.”
“Have you met my sisters?”
Viola hesitates. “Addie. Once. But not Sera or Josie. I think they’re afraid to…stir things up.”
“They’re still under Evelyn’s roof. Dad and I are prime examples of what happens when you upset my grandmother.”
“It’s hard on your dad, but he understands.”
“Yeah. They’ve got too much riding on the vineyard to risk it.”
Viola presses her lips together. “That woman casts a long shadow.”
I glance out the window to where my dad and Ryker are silhouetted against the last light of day. “Yeah,” I whisper. “She does.”
“But shadows aren’t permanent,” Viola adds, placing a hand on my arm. “They shift. And so do people.”
I nod, quietly grateful for the way she sees me.
When we step outside to say our goodbyes, the stars are just beginning to show. My dad hugs me tight again. “You’re always welcome here.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Ryder laces our fingers together like he always does, and I’m glad we came. Evelyn might’ve cast us out, but Dad and I are still a family. That’s something else good that has come from this.
Maybe that’s the real truth I’ve been chasing. Not who I was, but who I get to become. Free. Loved. Home.