Chapter 30
Mallory
It turns out that some of Dash’s birthday plans for me are practical. Extremely practical, in fact.
By four in the afternoon, I’m dressed nicely, pumped up on coffee, and headed to see my family’s lawyer, who has the papers drawn up for me to sign. Dash knows me well enough to understand that I don’t want to wait a day longer than necessary to take ownership of Autumn Lake. It’s one more quality in him that makes my heart feel full.
My parents, being my parents, are working on a farm in Georgia for two weeks, learning how to farm cotton.
Not that we’ll ever do that here. In Napa Valley. Where people grow grapes.
In the days since Dash and I talked about what seems to motivate them, I don’t resent their peripatetic choices as much as I once did. They may not be the best at parenting, but they do seem to contribute to the world in other valuable ways.
Maybe they’re just meant to raise crops and sheep instead of people.
We can’t control how our strengths play out in the world. I’m just grateful they decided to try their hand at parenting a person so that I could be born. If nothing else, they gave me my own chance to figure out how to contribute to the world.
It feels good to let the anger and resentment slide away and think about the future. And standing here in my lawyer’s office looking at the deed to Autumn Lake, I feel like everything I’ve been working for is in reach.
“Here we go,” Harold Cotton, our family lawyer says, laying a fat file folder on the mahogany desk in his office. Harold has been a friend of my parents for as long as I can remember, but I haven’t seen him in a while.
His hair has thinned and turned whiter, and his cheeks sag beneath his chin. He wears a pair of wire-rimmed readers low on his nose and smiles at me like a parent. Looking at how he’s aged reminds me that my parents aren’t young either. Maybe it will be a relief to them when I take control of things. I hope so.
“This is the deed to the property and all of the stipulations for taking ownership of Autumn Lake.”
I don’t know why I’m nervous. Actually, I do. Until I sign the papers and see the deed in my own name, I’m going to be afraid Felix will pull a fast one. I pray my parents didn’t sign anything that obligates me to keep him around.
He opens the folder and holds up a document. “This one’s the important one.”
I nod. “Right. The one that says I need to be married in order to inherit.” I hold up my ring finger. “Done and done.”
He cocks his head and studies the page in front of him. When he looks up, the crease in his brow has deepened. “These are the terms of your inheritance, yes.”
It occurs to me that maybe Felix’s name is in the paperwork someplace, so I need to set him straight. “I used to be married to someone else. Felix Sutton. But his name shouldn’t be anywhere in these documents. He’s not my husband anymore.”
Holding the papers closer to his face, he reads them again. His finger slides across the lines of the page and his lips move, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. My pulse starts racing as I worry that something isn’t right. I have my marriage certificate in my purse just in case I need to provide it as proof, but I’m getting a sinking feeling in my gut.
Harold puts the papers down and takes his glasses off. “Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”
“Be sure of what?”
“The partnership clause.”
The last time I heard that word was when Felix told me my parents had saddled me with his irritating presence.
“And?” My voice shakes, and I cough to cover it.
“Felix Sutton is to be your partner in operating the vineyard for two full years, and as such, he’s due half the gross proceeds of Autumn Lake.”
He lets that sink in, and my stomach bottoms out. Half the gross profits means I won’t make a dime for two years after I factor in expenses. Felix is such a snake in the grass. Only a snake would ask for gross proceeds instead of net. He has me over a barrel, and I hate him all over again.
Harold holds up a finger. “If you do not require his services, you need to buy him out by bequeathing your entire first harvest as an operating entity to Mr. Sutton.”
“Bequeathing?” Suddenly, Felix is Julius Caesar?
But still, that gives me an out. If I have to give him every grape on the future vines at Autumn Lake, I’d do it to be rid of him. It would mean I’d have to wait a year to sell to the Corbett family, but hopefully, I can make Dash understand that.
Will he understand? He’s already sacrificed so much to be my husband.
“And the fact that I have a new husband doesn’t change any of that? I thought I just needed to be married in order to remove Felix from the equation.” Maybe there’s still room to salvage this.
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure where you got the impression that marriage was a prerequisite for inheriting.”
Wait, what?
“My mom said I needed to be married.”
He looks again at the documents. “I don’t see anything here that says so. Nor do I recall discussing it with either of your parents.”
He has to be mistaken. The whole reason my parents agreed to keep Felix around in a supervisory capacity was that they didn’t want me taking on the job of running the property alone. All that crap about needing a partner. My mother told me explicitly that I needed to be married.
Didn’t she?
I rewind the phone conversation I had with her when she explained why she’d made the deal with Felix. Then again when she came for dinner. I’m certain that she kept emphasizing marriage, but did she actually tell me it was part of the written agreement? And if it isn’t…do Dash and I need to stay married?
Harold Cotton begins reading the terms of the inheritance out loud, but I barely hear him. My head spins, considering the implications of what I’ve just learned.
I don’t need to be married.
Yet…I am married to a man I love. And after today, I’ll no longer be in need of his services. It should make me happy to be free of Felix and unencumbered by a man in general.
Instead, it just makes me sad.
I don’t go home right away. Instead, I call Mary, and she meets me at the Dark Horse. I make up an excuse about forgetting that she wanted to take me out for my birthday, and Dash tells me to go have a good time. He’s exhausted and will try to stay up, but I tell him not to worry if he nods off.
He’s been working his tail off forging new relationships with growers and trying to staff Buttercup Hill back up to capacity. Now that people feel secure that he’s not flirting with their wives, the number of meetings has tripled. It still bugs me that people are so small-minded, but it’s a small town, and everyone’s in everyone else’s business, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
Mary pulls into the parking lot just as I slam the door to my Jeep. I wait for her, and we walk in together.
A few minutes later, with two dark beers on our table, I can no longer contain myself and blurt out the news. “I don’t have to be married to inherit Autumn Lake.”
She takes a long draw from her beer and nods at the information. “So that’s a good thing, yes?”
I tell her the rest. “Bloody Felix,” she grumbles. “But that’s just money. You’ll be done with him in a year and moving on to do as you please.”
I want to nod. I want to hold up my glass and toast hers. I want to be the emancipated, strong female I’ve always believed myself to be.
Instead, I feel the pinpricks of tears at the corners of my eyes because I want all those things, but I also want Dash. “Dammit, I’m crying over a man. After Felix, I swore I’d never do that ever again.”
Letting out a long exhale, I glance around the bar to see who’s here to see me lose my shit. Fortunately, other than a couple of guys in motorcycle jackets with their backs to us at the bar, the only other people in the place are a large table with middle-aged couples who look like they’ve had a very long day on the wine trail. Yup, they’re sloshed and not paying a whit of attention to me and my tears.
“I already scanned the place. You’re good,” Mary says, taking another sip. Half her beer is gone, and she signals the bartender for two refills even though I haven’t touched mine.
She picks up my beer and hands it to me. “Here. Drink some of this. Then we’ll talk this through.”
“Happy birthday to me,” I mutter. Mary clinks my glass as I’m slugging down a long drink.
A moment later, two new beers are placed wordlessly on the table by the bartender, who only makes eye contact with Mary, who nods. It’s like they’re speaking some private pub language I don’t understand.
“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Mary says after finishing her first beer and sliding the glass away. “First, happy birthday. I hope this year brings you everything you want. Which brings me to the next part. You inherited Autumn Lake. Congratu-fucking-lations. Let’s not lose sight of that.”
I nod. “You’re right. It’s a good day, no matter what else happens.”
“Yes, and as to the third thing, yeah, you’re gone for the guy, that’s clear. And from what I can see, he feels the same way, so maybe you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“No, it’s an agreement. We’re playing a role.”
“Him telling you he loves you doesn’t sound like role-playing to me.”
Here come those tears again. Dammit, I have no control over myself at all, and it pisses me off.
I shake my head. “I know. I think he might actually mean it.”
“Might?”
“Fine. He does.”
“And what about you?”
“I love him so much, Mare. But what if the same thing happens again? What if I tell him how I feel, and it takes away the magic? What if he’s just in it for the chase? Or the wine grapes?”
“What if he isn’t? What if he’s there for all the right reasons, and you’re the problem?” she asks quietly.
The jukebox starts playing “Wildest Dreams,” and I just sit there and listen to the lyrics. I don’t just want Dash to remember me after he leaves. I don’t want him to leave at all.
The bartender drops off a basket of soft pretzels and mustard, the snack I didn’t know I needed in my life.
“Listen, you can’t know what’s what until you talk to Dash. He should be part of this conversation.”
“But what if he’s relieved we don’t need to keep up with our charade? What if he wants to divorce me tomorrow?” I take a choppy breath and wipe a new set of tears from my eyes with the back of my sleeve. “Dammit, why am I crying?”
“Because you love the bloke. And if you tell him how you feel, you just might get everything you never knew you wanted. But you have to tell him.”
I nod. She’s right. I know she’s right.
I’ll tell him tonight, but for now, I’ll sit with my friend on my birthday and drink some beer for courage. We can call a cab tonight and pick up our cars in the morning.
And a couple of hours later, after a couple more beers and a lot more pretzels, I creep into my house, fully intending to tell Dash everything.
I find him fast asleep with a book on his chest, and I don’t have the heart to wake him. We’ll talk in the morning.