Chapter 18 Saffron #2
The ritual felt ceremonial when Cru drew samples from the tanks—the measured pour, the glass catching light, the moment before tasting when anything was possible or impossible in equal measure.
I raised the glass to my lips and sipped.
My eyes nearly rolled back in my head. The wine was transcendent.
Every component had integrated completely.
The bright fruit of the young wine, the complexity of the aged blend, the structure that came from both—it all worked together in a way that was greater than the sum of its parts.
The flavors evolved on my tongue, revealing new layers with each second. Berry and earth and spice and time.
I looked up and saw tears in both my father’s eyes and Baron’s.
“It’s magnificent,” my dad whispered.
Baron’s hands shook as he raised his glass higher. “To Marilyn, Concepción, and Ellen. May their legacy live on year after year in the wine they were responsible for creating.”
My mother pulled me into a fierce hug. Snapper’s arm came around both of us. Around the table, everyone tasted again and again, confirming what we all knew. We’d done it. Against all odds, with time running out, we’d actually done it.
“We bottle tomorrow,” Cru said. “Christmas Eve.”
“I’ve confirmed the auction is set for New Year’s Eve,” Baron added. “Press releases went out yesterday. My PR firm is already fielding calls from collectors. The interest is”—he paused, searching for the right word—“extraordinary.”
Hope bloomed in my chest so fierce it hurt. We were going to make it. We were actually going to save the winery.
Isabel caught my eye across the table. I moved around to where she stood, and she met me halfway.
“I’ll never forget this,” I said. “What you did. Insisting we finish the wine instead of letting me give up. I’m so grateful.”
“I needed to make amends,” she whispered. “For so many things.”
“Bygones?”
“Bygones,” she agreed, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, her smile looked genuine.
There was frost on the ground Christmas Eve morning when we arrived at Los Caballeros in the predawn darkness. Neither of us had spoken much last night or on our way this morning. It was as though we were both holding our breath, praying yesterday hadn’t been a dream.
The bottling facility was already buzzing with activity when we arrived. My parents were there, along with the men who’d agreed to help from the very beginning, when we were out in the vineyards, handpicking. But someone was missing. Kick.
I noticed his absence immediately. Snapper did too—I saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his shoulders went rigid as he scanned the room, looking for his brother. As time went on, I think we both realized he wasn’t coming, but neither of us wanted to say it out loud.
Isabel was missing too, which surprised me even more.
The work continued for several hours. Bottles moved down the line, wine flowed from tanks through tubes and filters into glass, then corks were inserted with pneumatic precision. At the end of the line, my mother, Lucia, Daphne, Eberly, and I applied labels, then loaded the bottles into the cases.
The physical labor felt good. Repetitive motion that didn’t require thinking. Just doing. Moving through the steps that would result in two thousand bottles of wine I now knew represented so much more than saving our winery.
Hours passed. My back ached. My hands cramped. But we kept going.
Snapper joined us at the labeling station once the bottles were all corked.
I told him to take a break, but he said he couldn’t.
I understood. For me, part of it was that, if I stopped moving, exhaustion would overwhelm me.
For him, I wondered if keeping busy helped stop him from thinking about his brother who should have been here and wasn’t.
“You okay?” I asked when he came to stand beside me.
“Fine.”
“You keep checking your phone. Any news?”
His jaw clenched harder. “None.”
“Maybe he doesn’t think he’s welcome.”
“Maybe he’s not, and you know what? I don’t fucking care.”
Tryst appeared beside us with the quiet presence of someone who’d been watching and waiting for the right moment. “May I speak with you both?”
Snapper’s shoulders tensed, but he nodded.
“Don’t pass judgment before you understand the full story,” Tryst said. “Talk to your brother. Listen to what he has to say.”
“He lied to me—”
“And you’ve never made a mistake? Never done something you regretted?” Tryst rested his hand on Snapper’s shoulder. “It’s Christmas Eve. A time for forgiveness. For family. Heed the lesson from the Christmas Blessing, and do not let pride destroy you.”
While Snapper didn’t answer, I saw something shift in his expression. Resistance giving way to consideration, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.
When every bottle was labeled and loaded into cases, Baron asked for everyone’s attention. “I’ve just spoken to my contact at the auction house. We’re confirmed for seven PM on New Year’s Eve. They’re expecting record attendance with collectors coming in from around the world.”
I closed my eyes and said my own silent prayer of thanks to Marilyn, my great-grandmother, who I was convinced had somehow led me to her journals and gave me the strength to do this.
Snapper and I arrived at my parents’ house just as the sun was setting.
“Who’s here?” I asked, pointing to an SUV I didn’t recognize.
My mother smiled. “You’ll see.”
We walked inside, and I heard it immediately—a baby crying. Not just any baby.
“Beatrice?” I called out.
“In here!” Felicity shouted from the living room.
I rushed through the house and found my sister on the couch, my niece in her arms, and Wagner standing behind them.
“Oh my God, I’m so happy to see you!” With the baby between us, Felicity and I hugged in the most awkward way possible. “When did you get in?”
“A few hours ago. We wanted to surprise you for Christmas.” She looked down at Beatrice, who’d stopped crying and was now staring up at me with dark, unfocused eyes. “She’s doing so well. The doctors said her recovery is ahead of schedule.”
Relief flooded through me so fiercely it stole my breath. My niece was okay. My sister was here. My parents were home. Snapper stood in the doorway, watching with so much warmth, I was back to fearing I was dreaming.
After a few minutes of listening to stories about my niece’s brilliance, I asked Felicity if she’d mind if I took a quick shower.
She waved her hand in front of her face. “If you didn’t say you were going to soon, I would’ve suggested it.”
I laughed and shook my head. Some things never change. Like older sisters.
I kissed Snapper’s cheek, promising to hurry back as I made my way upstairs.
I showered quickly, standing under the hot water just long enough for some of the knots in my shoulders to ease.
I changed into clean clothes, ran a comb through my wet hair, and was almost to the bottom of the stairs when I heard Snapper and Felicity speaking quietly in the dining room.
“I need to tell her the truth,” Snapper said.
I froze.
“No. It doesn’t matter now. Everything worked out. There’s no reason she ever needs to know.”
“But what if she finds out some other way?”
“How? Who would tell her?”
“I guess you’re right. I just feel like I’ve been lying by omission this whole time.”
Lying by omission? The whole time? I covered my mouth with my hand when I felt bile rising in my throat. Everything Isabel had said about Felicity and Snapper came flooding back. About how there had been something between them. Something I didn’t know about. Something they’d been hiding.
The walls seemed to close in on me, and my heart hammered against my ribs. All those doubts I’d pushed away, all those fears I’d told myself were baseless, came crashing back with brutal clarity.
While I’d been falling in love with him, while I’d put all my trust in him, he’d been lying. While he’d been angry at his brother for betraying his confidence—he’d been keeping secrets of his own.
With my sister.
I came the rest of the way down the stairs and rounded the corner to the dining room. Felicity and Snapper were the only two there. Standing too close together, looking guilty as hell.
“So you’re angry with Kick for betraying you by not being honest,” I said, shaking so hard I could barely speak. “Yet you’ve been hiding things from me all along. You’re not being honest with me either.”
Snapper’s face lost its color. “Saff—”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “Just don’t.”
He moved toward me, and I backed away.
“I want you to leave,” I said. “Now.”
“Please, let me explain—”
“Leave!”
He stood still for several seconds, his expression devastated, his hands reaching for me even though I’d made it clear I didn’t want to be touched. Then he turned and walked to the front door. It closed behind him with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than if he’d slammed it.
I looked at my sister, who stood speechless.
I turned and ran upstairs, reached my bedroom, and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Then I sank onto my bed and let myself fall apart.