Chapter 15
Fifteen
Riley looped her arm around Hasley’s. “God, I so need this,” Riley said as she and Hasley moved down Main Street. “I feel like everything is in limbo. Erin and I don’t want to do a celebration of life until everything with Dad’s death is cleared up and the suspicion around Grant is gone.”
“Erin told me that Elizabeth was hounding her to schedule something while begging her to go home to her husband.” Hasley smiled and waved to a couple walking in the opposite direction.
Of all the Boone kids, Hasley was the most like their mother.
Both in personality and in the way she carried herself.
“My sister cries herself to sleep.” Riley took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“She puts the kids to bed, makes sure they’ve drifted off, and then falls apart.
Last night I stayed with her until she was completely out.
And the unfortunate part is, she’s not so broken up over her marriage.
It’s all the years of allowing herself to be a doormat.
Of letting my mother and her husband wipe their feet on her like she doesn’t matter.
” They paused at the corner, looking both directions.
“She’s so scared of being alone. She’s got a college degree, but she’s never worked, and she signed a pre-nup.
About the only thing she’s certain of is that Chad won’t fight her on custody, but I don’t trust that. The guy’s a snake.”
“Erin’s not alone.” Hasley hip-checked Riley.
“Have you met my mom? She might not be a meddler, but once she’s wormed her way into your life, she doesn’t let go easily, and she’s going to be there for Erin.
We all will. Besides, her kids are too cute.
This morning, Willa told me I was her new favorite auntie.
” Hasley stuck her chin up in the air. “Ashley was practically steaming with envy.”
Riley laughed as she pulled open the door to the Stone Ridge Tasting Room.
The room hummed with a late-summer ease.
The air was rich with oak and blackberry, the chatter of tourists softened by a low pulse of jazz.
Bryson stood behind the bar, sleeves rolled to his forearms, pouring a deep cabernet into waiting glasses.
He was in his element, telling the kind of story that made people lean in, wallets halfway open.
Hasley nudged Riley with a grin. “Watch this—he’s about to hit them with the ‘three generations of Boone pride’ bit. He learned that one from your dad.”
Sure enough, Bryson’s voice dipped lower, warm as the wine in his hand. The couple across from him all but melted.
Riley smiled, and her heart filled with a sense of pride she wasn’t sure she had the right to. “He could sell sunscreen in a snowstorm.”
“Or sand to someone already buried in it,” Hasley murmured.
“He’s the enigma of the family. The one that loves every aspect of the business, from growing, to distribution to marketing, to being right here with the customers.
Not even my father can do that. Daddy has always enjoyed growing and the art of the deal.
Devon, he’s the PR and management guru. He can handle any nightmare tossed at this winery. ”
“And you and your sister?”
“We like the marketing aspect and the books. We’re both really good with numbers.” Hasley pointed her finger at Bryson. “If that one over there wasn’t always breathing down our necks.” Her breezy laugh reminded Riley of lazy summers.
Bryson caught Riley’s eye mid-pour, that faint half-smile tugging at his mouth.
She and Hasley inched closer to the bar.
“Isn’t this a nice surprise?” he said as he stepped around the counter to greet them, first kissing his sister’s cheek. Then, he leaned in and planted a bigger kiss on Riley’s lips. “Hmmm, that’s nice.”
Her cheeks flushed as she glanced around.
“Have a seat. Want a glass?” He glanced at his watch. “I mean, it is approaching that ladies who lunch time of day,” he mused.
“We’re heading to Oscar’s,” Hasley said, leaning on the bar. “Some sister-in-law bonding.”
“Interesting choice of words, little sister.” Bryson’s gaze lingered on Riley. “Behave yourselves.”
“She’s safer with me than she is with you,” Hasley shot back.
Before Riley could respond, the door opened and the scent of gardenia swept in, followed by the staccato click of heels on wood. Monica.
“Wonderful,” Bryson said with a tight jaw. “I swear, I can’t get through a day without seeing my ex-wife. Makes me want to stick an icepick in my eyeballs.”
“You should file a restraining order,” Hasley said with some venom. “We certainly don’t need her business. It’s like she’s just giving back the money from a settlement she—”
“Let’s not go there, shall we?” Bryson lowered his chin.
Riley eased onto a barstool. No way was she leaving her boyfriend alone with this viper.
Monica’s hair fell in perfect waves, sunglasses perched just so, her clothing that effortless style of casual that cost more than most people’s rent.
“Bryson,” she greeted, voice smooth, eyes sliding over him like he was an accessory to complete her outfit.
She shifted her gaze, landing on Riley, and all of a sudden, she looked like she’d swallowed a bag of sour balls.
“Riley,” she said, her smile curving with practiced precision.
“I didn’t realize you were still in town.
I assumed you’d be halfway back to… wherever it is you run off to these days.
Because, you know, you’re good at that.”
Riley gritted her teeth. “My father’s funeral hasn’t happened yet. I wouldn’t leave before that.” She cocked her head. “Not that I plan on leaving anytime soon.”
A flicker of disdain passed over Monica’s face—quick, but there.
“Of course. Well, I’m just here to pick up my wine order.
I should’ve known I wouldn’t have any left over from the garden party.
Everyone just loves the Stone Bridge Wine and expects that I, Bryson’s wife, would only serve the finest.”
“Ex-wife,” Bryson corrected.
“Without the privilege of carrying the name anymore.” Hasley hopped up on a stool and smiled a big, toothy grin. “Or did you forget that part?”
“Hmm.” Monica tilted her head at Bryson. “Thought I’d come straight to the source.” She rested her hand on the counter, ignoring the jab. “I was hoping to catch you here. We haven’t—”
“Let me get your order,” he said. As he turned toward the back room, Monica bit down on her lower lip.
“I’ve always thought that color looked fabulous on him, and I’m glad he took me up on my advice about wearing jeans in the tasting room.
They hang so well on his hips.” She turned to Riley.
“It’s nice you’ve found time to visit. Must be hard, catching up on everything you’ve… missed.”
“Some things,” Riley replied evenly, “are exactly as I remember them, like Bryson’s jeans. Which’s he’s always worn… in the tasting room. Might have even been at the urging of my father and the blessing of his.”
Hasley covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.
“I doubt that.” Monica’s lips pressed into a polite smile. “Small towns never change, do they? Same families, same names, same… dramas.”
“Some of us grow out of them,” Riley said lightly. “And some of us hang on to them like we don’t know the meaning of fresh laundry.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Monica asked.
Riley leaned closer. “I’m not the one stirring the pot here. I simply came in to say hello to my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Monica tipped her head back and laughed. “You’re still the same delusional girl you’ve always been,” Monica said as Bryson returned with the black Stone Ridge Winery bag, setting it on the counter. “Here you go.”
Monica leaned in, lowering her voice in that faux-private way that wasn’t meant to be private at all. “We should catch up sometime. Just the two of us. For old time’s sake.”
Riley’s grip tightened on her purse strap. The nerve of this woman. But Bryson didn’t hesitate. “Never gonna happen.”
“Oh, I believe it will. It always does,” Monica said, straightening. “Always nice to revisit the classics.”
Hasley smiled bright enough to cut glass. “I hear the classics are overrated.”
Bryson leaned across the counter, taking Riley’s hand. “I prefer classy.” He kissed her palm.
Monica’s eyes narrowed, but she simply took the bag, pivoted, and clicked toward the door. “Enjoy your lunch.” The latch shut behind her, leaving a faint trace of perfume in her wake.
“Well, that felt like I was back in high school, but it was the only way to drive the point home,” Riley said.
Bryson let out a breath. “She’s… consistent.”
“Like a rash,” Hasley muttered.
Riley smirked. “A chronic one.”
“Now that we’ve saved you from disaster,” Hasley said. “We need to get going.” She glanced at her watch. “Our reservation is in five. We’ll see you at home, big brother.”
“Don’t enjoy yourselves too much.” Bryson smiled. “Especially at my expense.”
“Oh, that’s the entire point.” Hasley laughed as they stepped out into the late-afternoon sun, warmth spilling across the quiet street. After a beat, Hasley nudged her. “So… you and my brother. What’s the real deal?”
Riley blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Hasley said, sidestepping a planter, “he looks at you like he’s just been sucker-punched and doesn’t mind bleeding a little.
And you… Well, you don’t look at him like someone who’s leaving anytime soon.
” Hasley leaned a little closer as she continued down the sidewalk.
“Not to mention you tossed that nugget in Monica’s face? Or was that just talk?”
Riley glanced at the brick sidewalk, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Bryson and I—we’re figuring things out. Taking it—slowish.”
“That’s vague,” Hasley said. “And vague is usually code for ‘complicated and maybe worth it’.”
“It’s… both.” Riley huffed a quiet laugh.
“I will tell you that I’m still madly head over heels in love with your brother.
That hasn’t changed. But we have, and that means we need to be honest.” She sighed.
“Our lives are vastly different. But right now, my focus is on Grant and his problems.” She took a steadying breath.
“And burying my father. After that, it’s one day at a time. However, I have decided to… come home.”
Hasley grinned. “Good. I like you for him. I always have. Even if it took years for him to figure that out.”
“Years.” Riley lifted a brow. “And a Monica.”
“We all make mistakes,” Hasley said. “No idea what he was thinking, but she wasn’t always that gross.
She started off being somewhat normal. Until she wasn’t.
Honestly, all we wanted was for him to be happy.
We didn’t think she was it, but you weren’t here for us to remind him about the right girl for him. ”
Riley’s lips curved despite herself. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Not believe. Know,” Hasley said simply.
They turned a corner into a narrower side street toward Oscar’s—and stopped short.
Riley stood beside a brick boutique, partially hidden, facing her mother and Monica.
No practiced smiles now—both women’s expressions were sharp, their postures taut.
Monica’s sunglasses were off, eyes narrowed.
Her mother’s lips were pressed thin, her hand wrapped tight around a small envelope, bulging in the middle.
Monica said something low, her voice just loud enough for Riley to hear her frustrated tone, but not enough to make out the words. Her chin jutted toward the package. Her mother shook her head sharply, muttering something that made Monica’s mouth pinch tighter.
Riley instinctively slid her phone from her bag, thumb swiping to the camera.
She raised it just as Monica extended her hand.
The exchange was quick—a flick of fingers, the white envelope sliding from Monica to her mom.
Riley had no idea if she caught the shot or not.
She wasn’t even sure why she’d taken it.
Her mother immediately tucked the envelope into her oversized tote, glancing around with the wary tension of someone who didn’t want to be seen.
“Now that was interesting,” Hasley said.
“I can’t imagine those two being brunch buddies,” Riley murmured. “No offense, but my mom hates all things Boone, and Monica once bore that last name.”
Hasley’s brow furrowed. “They’ve been… friendlier since the divorce—at least, when it comes to town business. I’ve never seen them like that, and let’s face it, that exchange looked more like sparing than two women out for an afternoon of cocktails and shopping.”
Monica’s gaze flicked up the street, and Riley stepped back into the shadow of an awning, Hasley close behind her.
Monica and Elizabeth exchanged a few last clipped words, then turned in opposite directions—Monica striding toward the main square, Elizabeth vanishing down a narrow alley toward a parking lot.
Riley stared at the screen in her hand, the image crisp and undeniable. “We’re going back to the tasting room.”
Hasley nodded, already moving. “Bryson’s going to want to see this.”