Chapter 28
FRANKIE
The vineyard’s New Year’s bash last month went off without a hitch, despite the fact that the entire Bellanti family was conspicuously absent from the festivities.
I chalk the success up to a combination of my older sister’s event-planning superpowers, and the hard work of the few loyal staff members who’ve been tasked with holding down the fort.
Everyone else employed by Bellanti Vineyards is on paid furlough while the property is being renovated during the winter months.
The official story is that all of the Bellantis are spending time in Italy during the winery’s renovations.
Which is true...partially. The renovations are happening, but in reality, it’s only Armani (and a trusted bodyguard) who went to Italy.
Apparently, Armani has a real talent for blending in, so he’s doing some digging into who wants the Bellantis dead, following up on the scant information obtained from the third would-be arsonist before he... decided to stop living.
Meanwhile, Marco is quietly touring all the prominent racetracks in the US, scouting for talent for his growing racing company.
He started his journey by hand delivering Max to Livvie down in New Orleans and making sure she was settling in at the new safe house.
She and our mother were recently relocated to a different property in a private, secure location known only to the Bellantis, since we don’t know how deep the betrayal of our family goes.
Armani made the arrangements. He chose a place that’s up to the right standards for Livvie to resume her training with a vetted horse trainer, and under the watch of her personal bodyguard.
She’s finishing up high school with a private tutor, also heavily vetted. By all accounts, things are going well.
What else? Mom is painting again, a pastime that had fallen by the wayside over the years, now rekindled by her phone calls with Charlie. Sometimes they even paint together over FaceTime.
It seems like all our wounds are starting to heal...in more ways than just physical.
Now, making my way out the front door of the house and toward the Bellanti stables, I pull the collar of my wool coat tighter against the crisp February air.
Morning sunlight spills down through dark gray clouds, but it offers little warmth.
Once I reach the barn, I find the inside pleasantly cozy as I make my way down the aisle.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been obsessively checking on our two very pregnant Friesians.
They’re due to drop their foals any day now, and their stomachs are huge.
“Hi, sweet girl,” I say to Avina when she pops her head over her stall door in greeting.
She and Maeije both get an oatmeal treat from my pocket, along with a few nose pats.
When Avina nuzzles me for another, I give in immediately.
I know what it’s like to have pregnancy cravings.
And now that my morning sickness has mostly passed, I can’t stop eating.
Especially hamburgers. Speaking of which, I’d do just about anything for a hamburger right now.
Fried in mustard, well done, with pickles.
Mmm. This baby is definitely a carnivore.
At the sound of footsteps in the aisle, I turn around with a beat of alarm going through me.
But all I see is Dante walking my way, a greasy paper bag in his hand, as if he has all the time in the world.
The moment I see him, I relax. I wish the skittishness would stop.
Hopefully, in time, it will. For now, I’m comforted by the fact that my husband rarely leaves my side.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask, raising a brow.
“A snack,” he answers, holding it out in offering.
The blessed man. I grin.
“Good answer.” I snatch it out of his hand and excitedly peek inside.
The smell hits me right away: cinnamon, fried dough, sugar, maple. Hot, fresh donut holes. From the looks of it, two dozen of them. Mmm.
“They’re from that place you like on Lincoln,” Dante says.
“Thank you,” I mumble around a mouthful.
Things between us aren’t perfect, but we’ve found a nice rhythm to our relationship since I left the hospital.
I feel like we finally have a solid foundation, one based on mutual trust and open communication.
Dante includes me in his plans and takes my suggestions when they’re workable, explaining things to me when they aren’t.
He actually listens when I stick to my guns about something.
And he’s learning that compromise doesn’t mean an idea has to get diluted or weakened—that often, it can become even stronger.
“How’s your back feeling today?” he asks, watching me scarf.
“Decent. And my ribs are good, too. Haven’t felt so much as a twinge in like a week.”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.” He kisses me on the tip of the nose. “Because, as it turns out, I have a little surprise for you.”
“How little?” I ask teasingly. “Or are you going to tell me size doesn’t matter?”
Just then, Avina and a few of the other horses perk their ears. I catch the faint whump-whump of helicopter blades in the near distance. The sound steadily comes closer.
My eyes widen. “Is that…?”
Dante grins. “I realized that you’ve been stuck hiding out at the winery for over a month now while we’ve been trying to consolidate resources and hire on more security. So, to give you a little break, I arranged a helicopter ride with Dean.”
“Yes!” I clasp my hands together and practically jump up and down. I have been feeling pent up, and this is exactly the kind of excitement I’ve been craving.
Dante takes my hand and we head out of the stables and toward the helipad. When we reach the helicopter, Dean jumps out and gives me a high five.
“Hey! My best puke-aimer! You’re a legend, man.”
Dean’s praise has me laughing. Dante looks less than amused.
“You, uh, you sure you’re okay to do this?” Dante asks me. “We can reschedule…”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I should be fine. But I’ll keep a bag close by just in case.”
Throngs of excitement go through me as we ascend into the sky. We’re high enough that I can see the freshly turned earth next to the vines where the hyssop and clover and other new secondary pollination crops will be planted in the spring. I can’t wait.
Soon, I can also see the construction crew that’s working on the old Abbott house.
Dante had gained ownership of it from my father under...
less than polite circumstances...but it meant that my father had no legal rights to anything near me or my sisters anymore.
With the help of (and in partnership with) Delores Alvarez, Charlie is now in the process of turning the house into a bed-and-breakfast. She promised me that once the renovations were complete, no trace of our unhappy childhood would remain within those walls.
She’s also handling the remodeling of the old horse trainer’s quarters in the Abbott stables—they’ll soon be an updated apartment for Livvie to move into when she’s able to come back to Napa.
I honestly can’t think of any other place my little sister would feel more at home.
As we whoosh over the property, I feel at peace just taking in all the muted tones of winter brown and gray below. In a handful of weeks, these hills and valleys will be alive with greenery and new life. I wrap my hands around my belly. There’s going to be a lot of new life around here, soon.
My daydreaming is interrupted by Dante, who takes my hand and gestures out the window at the small, narrow valley on the Abbott property with the gorgeous view that I’ve always loved so much.
I gasp to see bulldozers down there, clearing the largest part of the land, taking out rocks and smoothing ridges and uprooting old oaks, though most of the trees are still intact. This valley offered so much solace to me as a child and teenager. What the hell is he doing to it?
I turn to him with a questioning frown, but before I can say anything, my headset crackles and I hear Dante say, “Welcome home.”
What?
“That’s where our new house will be built, Frankie. Brand-new, built to all of your specifications. You can make it as cold and pretentious as you want. Or not.”
My jaw drops. How often did I daydream about living in a fairy-tale cottage in this very valley? A perfect escape, a place of tranquility with nature all around. And now it’s happening. My daughter can have a warm and welcoming home, the home I always wanted for myself.
“There will be nary a marble floor or fake book in sight,” I tell Dante through the microphone on my headset. “The cycle of cruelty stops with us.”
My tone is joking, but I mean every word.
“No more bad parenting,” Dante agrees. “And no dark paneling or disapproving portraits of past ancestors either, right?”
“Well...maybe just a few disapproving portraits,” I tease.
Leaning over, I give him the tightest hug and biggest kiss I can manage while pregnant, strapped into a helicopter seat, and wearing a headset.
Then I rest my head on Dante’s shoulder, watching our little valley out his window as we slowly turn and fly away.
Dante runs his finger over my cheek. “Are you happy, Mrs. Bellanti?”
“Deliriously so, Mr. Bellanti.”
Once we’re back on the ground, we lean into each other as we watch Dean fly away, the wind from the helicopter blades tossing our hair.
“So. How was your helicopter ride?” Dante asks.
“Best ride ever,” I say, turning to face him and wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Best life ever.” He kisses me. “And it’s only going to get better.”