Josie
Thirty-two
It’s been a long day, and I should be going to bed. But I can’t sleep. My phone sits on the bedside table, and I reach for it again before I can stop myself. The voicemail is only a few hours old, but I’ve already listened to it more times than I want to admit.
Alex’s name sits beneath it, several times, actually, as there are a number of calls and messages from him that I haven’t returned. I appreciate his efforts, and I tell myself I don’t know what to say, but that isn’t entirely true.
I’m embarrassed that the will reading ended the way it did, and responding to Alex would mean admitting how badly I misjudged everything and how terribly it’s turned out.
He would listen without judging and offer to come over, and that makes picking up the phone even harder.
Right now, I don’t want comfort. I don’t want anyone close enough to see how completely I’m falling apart.
So instead of being a responsible girlfriend, I press play, and the man’s voice once again fills the quiet cottage.
“Hello, Ms. Dempsey. My name is Frederick Reynolds. I represent a vineyard in Napa Valley. We were given your name by the sommelier at The French Laundry, and we’d love the opportunity to speak with you regarding an opportunity. Please give me a call when it’s convenient.”
I stare at the screen for several seconds before playing the message again.
The French Laundry. Even hearing the name sends a flutter through my stomach.
A month ago, that sommelier knew exactly who I was.
He recognized my wines, sent the chef out to meet me, and treated me like someone worth knowing.
Now he’s gone a step further and recommended me to someone influential.
I replay the message yet again, listening for something I missed, some indication that I’ve misunderstood the entire thing. But the details don’t change. A Napa vineyard. An opportunity. A recommendation tied directly to my work.
The opportunity could be bigger than anything I’ve ever imagined for myself, which should make the decision easy. Instead, I find myself staring out the window and thinking about everything I would leave behind if this opportunity became something real.
I’m not ready to tell Sera. That feels like too much to add into the turmoil of this day.
Instead, I want to talk to my younger sister.
I get dressed again, get into the car, and head off the vineyard grounds to her place.
It doesn’t take long, but by the time I pull into Ginny and Ryker’s driveway, I know exactly how ridiculous this is.
I’m thirty years old, I’ve been the vintner at Black Bear for years, and I have handled harvests, equipment breakdowns, bad weather, and enough Dempsey family drama to deserve combat pay.
Yet one afternoon with a lawyer and Evelyn’s final opinion has me desperately in need of someone else’s perspective.
The porch light glows over the front steps, and I’ve barely lifted my hand before the door opens. Ginny takes one look at me, her hand braced over her enormous belly, and says, “Oh, Josie.” Then she pulls me into her arms before I can say a word. “That bad?” she asks against my shoulder.
“Worse,” I say.
“Kitchen,” she tells me. “Before you start crying on my porch and give the neighbors a show.”
I follow her inside, and the house smells like peppermint tea and toast. Baby things have spread into every room, as if Ryker and Ginny are preparing for a very small invasion. I suppose they are.
Ginny catches me looking and rolls her eyes. “Ryker says we’re organizing.”
“Are you?”
“No. We’re being colonized by all things baby.” She waddles into the kitchen, points me toward a chair, and reaches for the kettle. “Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”
I tighten my fingers around each other, pressing my palms together. “I’m not angry about the money. I know everyone says that, but I’m really not. I’ve never stayed at Black Bear because I thought Evie would hand me a check.”
“No,” Ginny says. “You stayed because you love the work.”
“I was the vintner,” I say, watching her pour hot water over the tea bags. “Sera kept the place running. We did the work. And Evie spent years making sure we all knew she didn’t trust women to run it, which is hilarious, considering she ran it herself.”
Ginny carries the mugs to the table and lowers herself into the chair across from me with a careful breath. “Evelyn Dempsey built a vineyard and then spent the rest of her life acting like women near vines were decorative.”
“That should be funny.” I sigh.
“It would be, if she hadn’t used it to hurt you.” Ginny slides one mug toward me, and then reaches for the crackers and cheese already sitting on the counter. “Leaving everything to Ric was cruel. Not because Ric is bad. He isn’t. But she knew what it said.”
“That none of us matter.”
Ginny nods. “That the girls could work, carry, fix, smile, host, harvest, and bleed for the place, but the second power was on the table, she’d rather hand it to a man.”
Ryker appears in the kitchen doorway, his hair damp and his expression cautious. He looks at Ginny and then at me. “Are we talking about Evelyn?”
“Unfortunately,” Ginny says. She picks up a cracker, takes a bite, and makes a face. “This cheese has betrayed me.”
“You bought it,” Ryker points out, disappearing down the hall.
“Then I betrayed myself.” She shifts in her chair and rubs the side of her belly. “The baby is sitting on an organ I apparently need.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“These last five weeks will be the longest of my life. If she’s late, she’s going to have to make it up to me somehow.
” Her expression changes, softening despite the exhaustion around her eyes.
“The nursery is mostly done. Ryker keeps reorganizing drawers like the baby is going to arrive and audit us.”
“That sounds very Ryker the pediatrician.”
“He folded washcloths by size yesterday.” She shakes her head, but her smile gives her away. “I let him. He looked so proud.”
For a few minutes, the conversation stays there. The shift helps. It lets air back into the room and gives me something to hold that is not Evelyn, the will, or the message she left behind.
Ginny eventually studies me over her mug. “There’s more.”
I look down at my phone, sitting silent beside my hand. “I got a voicemail today.”
“From Alex?”
“No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” I swallow. “From someone connected to a vineyard in Napa. They were referred to me by the sommelier at The French Laundry.”
Ginny goes completely still. “The French Laundry?”
I nod. “It’s someone’s representative, and it must be someone big.”
Her face lights up so fast it almost hurts to look at her. “Josie.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” She grips the edge of the table, eyes bright. “That is huge. People know and love your work. Someone tasted what you made and remembered you well enough to recommend you.”
The pride in her voice makes my throat tighten. “It could be nothing.”
Ginny leans forward as much as her belly allows. “That call came because of you. Not Evie. Not Black Bear. You.” She looks at me. “I assume you haven’t told Sera.”
“I haven’t. She’s taking Evie’s decision harder than I am.”
Ginny reaches for her tea, and then pauses with the mug halfway to her mouth. “What does Alex think?”
“I haven’t told him.”
Ginny’s brows lift. Not sharp. Not judgmental. Just surprised in a way that makes my stomach twist harder than anger would have. “Why? I thought you two told each other everything.”
I sigh. “Today was ugly. I don’t want to drag him into the middle of our family mess.”
Ginny gives me a look. “Josie, our family mess has been visible from space for years.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” She nudges the plate toward me, even though neither of us is eating. “But Alex is not some tourist who wandered into town and accidentally discovered the Dempseys have issues. He knows you. I feel like he wants to be part of this.”
“He knows pieces,” I say. “Not the whole thing.”
Ginny studies me for a moment. “Then you should tell him. Maybe give him a chance to decide what he can handle.”
That prospect strikes fear in my heart. If Alex knows everything and stays, I have to believe this thing between us is real. And if he learns everything and leaves, I have to live with being right.
Ginny seems to understand enough not to push right now. Instead, she taps one finger beside my phone. “The voicemail is still incredible. You should call them back. You’re not agreeing to leave here. You’re just getting all the information”
“I know.”
“And you should let yourself be proud.” Her voice turns firmer. “Not cautious. Not embarrassed. Proud. Someone outside this valley sees what you can do.”
I nod, but my throat tightens before I can answer.
I’ve spent years dreaming about exactly that—recognition without the Dempsey name dragging behind it.
Work that belonged to me because I earned it, not because Evie allowed it.
A vineyard where nobody weighs my future against Ric’s, Sera’s, Addie’s, or whatever cousin Evie favored that week.
“Given what happened today, you could go,” Ginny adds. “If it becomes real, you could take it.”
“I know,” I say again.
She tilts her head. “But if you do, you’ll miss more than Paradise.”
I look up at her, caught by the phrasing. “What?”
“You heard me.” Ginny rests one hand over her belly and exhales slowly.
“You’ll miss more than this town. You’ll miss our once-a-month dinners, even when everyone talks too loud and someone always brings up business.
You’ll miss harvest, because you’re impossible during harvest, but you love it more than sleep. ”
I try not to smile, but the image forms too quickly.
“You’ll miss the lake,” she says. “You’ll miss me and Ryker, and this baby, who will absolutely need an aunt willing to corrupt her properly.
You’ll miss Sera and Addie and Ric, even when they make you crazy.
You’ll miss the tasting room because you know every corner of it, and whether you admit it or not, you like watching people fall in love with something you made. ”
I press my thumb against the side of my mug, trying to hold still while her words rearrange things I thought I understood.
Ginny’s voice gentles. “And you’ll miss Alex.”
I close my eyes for a second, but that only makes his face easier to see. His calls. His concern. The way he looks at me like I am not a complication he regrets, even when I feel like one. I’ve wanted out of Black Bear for so long that I never considered what leaving would actually cost.
“Do you want to stay in our guest room tonight?”
I look at her. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe a night or two here will help you figure it all out. A change of scenery. A little space.” She smiles and stands. “It’s not like you’re far away.”
When I nod, Ginny leads me to her guest room and gives me a pair of pajamas that don’t look like they’ve ever been worn. She hugs me again and tells me to sleep well. I set my phone on the bedside table, still heavy with Alex’s missed call and messages.
But I still don’t answer them, because I’m no closer to having any idea what to say.
If I tell him about this call from Napa, I have to tell him why I’m scared.
If I tell him why I’m scared, I have to unravel the whole inheritance fight, the secrets, the manipulation, and the decades of resentment stitched through my family like bad thread.
I have to explain to him that loving me means standing close to all of it.
We’ve made a lot of progress over the last month.
Since Napa, things have felt real between us in a way I never would have imagined while Evie was alive.
He and Eloise have visited the vineyard.
We’ve had dinners all together. In small ways, I’ve become part of their lives, and they’re part of mine.
I suppose that should give me confidence that we can handle this challenge, but Evie’s will has managed to destabilize every aspect of my existence, right down to my core.
Alex Spencer is steady. Successful. Controlled. He does not sign up for disasters, and the Dempseys are not a family so much as a television show with better wine and worse boundaries.
As I crawl into bed and shut the light off, his name lights my screen again. I sit in the dark holding my phone, watching it ring while my heart makes its quiet, stupid argument.
Again, I let it go to voicemail.