Chapter 4
Four
The Stone Bridge Tasting Room occupied a converted Victorian on Main Street.
Its wraparound porch was dotted with bistro tables where tourists lingered over flights of wine and cheese plates.
Inside, the walls displayed awards and family photos dating back to the vineyard's founding.
A gleaming mahogany bar dominated the space, lined with bottles that caught the afternoon sunlight streaming through tall windows.
Emery followed Riley through the side entrance, noting how the space managed to feel both elegant and welcoming—no small feat in a town built on pretension.
"This is our bread and butter," Riley explained, gesturing around the room. "Tourists, locals, weekend wine enthusiasts. We do flights, by-the-glass service, and bottle sales. During peak season, we're slammed from open to close."
A woman about Emery's age looked up from behind the bar.
Her auburn hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her smile was warm and genuine despite the weariness around her eyes.
Erin Callahan had the same delicate features as her sister, but where Riley carried herself with the confidence of someone who'd survived and thrived, Erin bore the invisible marks of recent emotional battles.
"Emery.” Erin came around the bar to greet her. "It's so good to see you again. Riley told me you'd joined the team."
"It's good to see you, too. You look well." And she did—tired, perhaps, but there was a strength in her bearing that hadn't been there during those awful days after her father's death when Emery had still been living in Stone Bridge.
"I'm getting there." Erin's smile held a hint of hard-won peace. "One day at a time, as they say. But this job has been a lifesaver. Literally. Working here gives me purpose, income, and the best co-workers." She squeezed Riley's hand.
"We make a good team," Riley agreed. "Erin does most of the heavy lifting. She's got the best palate in the family—can describe tasting notes like my father, and Bryson is just giddy over it.”
"Riley's being modest. She's the one who turned our social media from sleepy to spectacular." Erin moved back behind the bar and pulled out three glasses. "But enough about work. Let's have a proper welcome toast."
She poured a chardonnay that gleamed golden in the afternoon light, passing glasses across the bar. "To new beginnings. For all of us."
They clinked glasses, and Emery felt some of the tension she'd been carrying ease. The wine was crisp and bright with notes of apple and a hint of vanilla oak.
"This is beautiful," Emery said.
"Our 2021 vintage. One of Bryson's best.” Erin leaned against the bar. "So, Riley says you're interviewing with the local reporter next week?"
"Unfortunately." Emery set down her glass. "I'm terrified."
"Don't be." Riley pulled out her tablet. "I've been working on talking points and a full media strategy. The key is to control the narrative before it controls you."
They spent the next hour going over Riley's plan—how to address the Pemberton scandal directly without being defensive, how to highlight her qualifications and the authentication program's potential, how to position her return to Stone Bridge as intentional rather than desperate.
"The interviewer, Sarah Martinez, is fair but thorough," Riley explained. "She'll ask hard questions, but if you're honest and confident, she'll give you a fair shake."
"What if she brings up Harold's accusations specifically?"
"You acknowledge them, explain your side briefly, and pivot to the future.
" Riley tapped her screen. "Something like: 'What happened at Pemberton's was devastating, but it also taught me valuable lessons about due diligence and documentation.
Those lessons are exactly what make me uniquely qualified to guide Stone Bridge Winery into the premium markets. "
"Turning a negative into a positive," Erin said approvingly. "I like it."
The bell above the door chimed, and Grant Callahan walked in carrying a case of wine under each arm.
He looked better than the last time Emery had seen him—the dark circles under his eyes had faded, and there was more color in his face—but the weight of recent events still showed in the set of his shoulders.
"Ladies," he greeted them, setting the cases on the bar. "Special order for the Hendersons. They're hosting some anniversary party tomorrow."
“Thanks for giving us a hand with this. I’ll get them packaged up," Erin said, already moving toward the storage room.
Grant turned to Emery, extending his hand. "Good to see you again. Heard you'd joined the Boone operation."
"News travels fast."
"Small town." His smile was wry. "Though, I imagine David Callaway's will reading today has the whole valley buzzing."
Riley looked up sharply. "How did you hear about that?"
"Bryson texted me about an hour ago. Said Gabe told him some interesting things came up." Grant accepted the glass of wine Erin poured for him when she returned. "Something about a third heir?"
Riley set down her tablet. "Gabe said what now?”
"According to Bryson, David's will specifically states that he had another child before his marriage and that this person should be found within three months and given their share of the inheritance.
" Grant's expression was thoughtful. "Bryson said Gabe was shaken by the fact that David left him his grandfather’s gun collection, which was extensive. I guess Gabe wants nothing to do with that. Even though the gun that was used to murder EJ Callaway, Jasper’s brother, was found and should still be locked up somewhere in evidence, that whole collection is tainted for Gabe. But what really rattled Gabe was the notion that his mom once dated David.”
The room went still.
“Gabe couldn’t possibly be a third heir, could he?” Riley asked carefully. “His parents moved before he was born.”
“Interestingly enough, Gabe wasn't supposed to be in the room for that part—they asked him to leave after presenting him with his grandfather's guns—but he heard enough and yeah, his folks moved about a year before he was born, so no, the timing isn’t right, but his folks did return a few times and the whole thing is just freaking him out. It’s bringing up too much history for the man, which I understand.” Grant took a sip of wine.
“I ran into Mom early today, and all it took was a glance, and I’m down that rabbit hole. ”
“She could go back to jail if she has any contact with any of us.” Erin set down her glass and tightened her ponytail.
“She didn’t speak to me,” Grant said. “She just paused, stared, and then scurried off into the salon. But not my point. Gabe carries the burden of what his granddad did. Something that I worry about for my kids. For Erin's kids.” He reached across the table and grabbed Erin’s hand.
“It’s a lot of weight to have on your shoulders. ”
“It is,” Riley agreed. “But we’re not going to let those kids, or each other, do any of this alone.”
Emery lifted her wine and stared into the rich, buttery liquid. An insurance scam had ruined her father’s reputation. He never denied the accusation. At least, not loudly. All he’d said was that there were things yet to be revealed, and that in time, she’d understand.
But for the last two years, she’d dealt with the shame of what happened. She carried her father’s guilt. So had her sister.
Only, now she had her own cross to bear, and when she’d been fired, her parents welcomed her home. No questions asked. No demands of apologies for the way she’d distanced herself from her dad. The way she still struggled with his quiet resolve that things would… work themselves out.
Both her parents emphatically believed her when she told them she hadn’t done what she’d been accused of. It left her wondering about her father and his words and what they’d really meant.
Grant leaned back. “I kind of wish I’d been a fly on that office wall when Winston and Callie learned they have another sibling. I can’t imagine those two being curious to know who this person is. I bet they only want to safeguard their inheritance.”
“I imagine they want to protect it from people coming after them pretending to be a long-lost sibling,” Erin said.
“That’s easily proved these days with DNA testing,” Riley said.
The door chimed again. Sandy Kane walked in with her husband, Mason, both dressed casually—her day off from being Stone Bridge's Chief of Police evident in her jeans and Stanford sweatshirt.
"Happy hour crew,” Sandy called out cheerfully, then spotted Emery. "I heard you were back in town. How are you settling in?"
"Still getting my bearings," Emery admitted. Sandy had been two years behind her in high school, and they'd run in different circles—Sandy with the athletes, Emery with the academic crowd. They hadn’t been friends, but Sandy had always been kind and full of sunshine.
"Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me. Hopefully not in an official capacity." Sandy laughed, sliding onto a barstool. "What are we drinking?"
Erin poured two glasses of their pinot noir for Sandy and Mason. "Grant was just telling us about David Callaway's will reading."
"Oh?" Sandy's professional interest flickered across her face. "I imagine that was emotional."
"Apparently, there was a provision about a third heir," Riley said.
Sandy's eyebrows rose. "The old rumors were true, then?"
"Seems like it." Grant leaned against the bar. "You remember when we were kids? Everyone used to whisper about it."
"I remember," Sandy said. "There was this period—what, when we were in middle school?—where it was all anyone talked about. Some kid supposedly had David's eyes or mannerisms or whatever."
"But then it died down," Erin added. "I always figured it was just gossip."
"Me too," Grant said. "But apparently, the will is pretty specific. This person exists and should inherit. So, there must be substance to it."
"Do Winston and Callie know who it is?" Erin asked.