Chapter #2
Dr. Matt Lawson. He works pediatrics with my brother-in-law, Ryker at the hospital and has been to the vineyard a handful of times. Easy smile. Reliable. The kind of man people describe as solid before they describe him as interesting..
Matt: Heard about the first day. You holding up?
Me: Fine.
The typing dots appear almost immediately.
Matt: I’ve got that fundraiser tonight for the children’s wing. Ryker mentioned you might be there. Would you come as my plus one?
Of course Ryker did.
I stand there with the phone in my hand, reading the message again.
Matt is easy in the way steady men usually are.
Thoughtful. Reliable. The kind of man who opens doors without turning it into a performance, remembers birthdays without reminders, and pays attention when someone speaks.
He never pushes. Never crowds. Never raises his voice or makes a room feel smaller when he walks into it.
There is nothing wrong with him.
That might be the problem.
But we’ve talked about the fundraiser. Paradise Hill listed as lead sponsor.
Max Paradise scheduled to give opening remarks.
I’m not sure I can do this today.
Ric calls while I’m halfway up the eastern row, the sun just starting to crest the ridge.
I swipe to answer and tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I adjust a loose tie on the trellis wire.
“Tell me,” I say.
“It’s not great,” Ric replies. His voice carries that courtroom echo — hollow, contained.
“What happened,” I say, tightening the wire until it hums.
“The judge is questioning whether we can use the evidence against Max,” he says.
I stop walking. “Questioning how?”
“They’re arguing it drags in too much history,” Ric says. “That it turns this into a feud instead of a criminal case.”
I look across the boundary line at Paradise’s rows, green and unbothered. “It is a feud,” I say. “That’s why we’re here.”
“I know,” he says quietly.
“If that evidence is excluded,” I say, crouching to examine a shoot that caught the cold earlier, “what’s left?”
There’s a pause on his end before he answers. “Less. A lot less.”
“What do we do then?” I ask, standing again.
“Evie’s more exposed,” Ric says.
“Exposed to what?” I ask.
“A conviction,” he replies.
The word lands hard. I press my palm against the wooden post beside me, feeling the rough grain bite into my skin.
“And the judge?” I ask.
“She’s listening,” Ric says. “That’s what worries me.”
I start walking again, boots crunching over gravel at the end of the row. “What else?”
“Dylan and Scott showed up,” he says.
I let out a short breath through my nose. “Of course they did. I’m sorry. I’ve been in the vineyard since before three.”
“We figured. But Dylan and Scott are already talking about what happens if this goes badly,” Ric continues.
“What is their definition of badly?” I say.
“If Evie loses,” he says. “If there’s jail time.”
I laugh once, sharp and humorless. “Coastal just used the same language.”
There’s a beat. “What happened with Coastal?” Ric asks.
“They moved our Estate Reserve,” I say, keeping my voice level. “One hundred cases. Shifted to Paradise.”
“When?” Ric demands.
“This morning,” I say. I bend to pick up a fallen tie and snap it in half without thinking.
He swears under his breath. “That’s coordinated.”
“I know,” I say.
“Have you told Evie?” he asks.
“She doesn’t know yet,” I reply. “She’s focused on winning the room.”
“She thinks she’s protecting us,” Ric says.
I straighten and look across the property line again. “She’s protecting her pride,” I say.
There’s a door closing on his end.
“They’re calling us back in,” Ric says. “We don’t have a ruling yet.”
“And if the judge narrows it?” I ask.
“Then we pivot,” he says.
“And if Evie loses?” I press.
Ric exhales. “Then we deal with that when we have to.”
That’s not reassurance. That’s choas.
I tighten another tie that doesn’t need tightening. “If they start pushing harder,” I say, “don’t soften it for me.”
“I’m not softening anything,” Ric replies.
“You always do,” I say.
There’s a brief silence before he answers. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” I say, releasing the wire.
“We’re going back in,” Ric says. “I’ll call you after the ruling.”
“Do,” I reply.
The line clicks dead.
I stand there a moment longer, looking at the vines, at the clean lines and measured spacing.
Evie never spoke about vulnerability. She spoke about stamina. Tender things don’t survive here without intervention. Love requires vulnerability. Vulnerability gets exploited.
I return to the house to grab the production binder that Evie took to her bedroom last night. The big house is silent. Photographs of generations past line the walls. Nothing that says family.
I pick up the binder. Numbers align cleanly. The house is large and composed, but it does not feel lived in. I’ve built Black Bear to feel alive. I have never built anything personal.
My phone vibrates as I head back toward the house.
Not Ric.
Evan Morgan.
Evan: Tell your grandmother good luck today. I’m sure she’ll bulldoze the judge like she does everyone else.
I stop walking.
We went out twice. After the second dinner, I told him I wasn’t interested in taking it further. He said he understood.
He’s texted four times since.
I type back.
Me: Please don’t text me about my family.
His reply comes almost immediately.
Evan: Just being supportive.
It isn’t support. It’s an excuse.
I lock the screen without answering. When I say I’m not interested, I mean it. I don’t soften it. I don’t leave space for reinterpretation.
My phone buzzes again before I reach the steps.
Ric: Adjourned for the day. Judge wants supplemental briefs. Max spoke to media.
Coastal Distribution: We’re reviewing our exposure for Q4. No further changes right now but that can change.
Ric: You okay?
I type back.
Me: Always.
The frost passed. The Gold didn’t. Evie’s defense is narrower than it was this morning.
The vines are still green.
That doesn’t make us secure.
Another message slides across the screen.
Matt: It’ll keep the press off you. No one asks questions when you’re standing beside a doctor.
I read it twice. I have already forgotten he wants me to be his plus one tonight.
He means well. He always does. In his mind, he’s offering cover — something solid to stand beside so the room relaxes.
In this town, you show up paired and people behave.
I type back.
Me: I’ll come. But not as anyone’s cover.
The dots appear.
Matt: Of course not. Just dinner and a fundraiser.
Just.
I set the phone on the counter and look out at the vineyard. The rows are clean, the morning settled. You would never know what almost happened at dawn. You would never know what shifted by nine.
Coastal moved our Estate Reserve to Paradise. The judge may narrow Evie’s defense. Tonight the entire town will gather in one room and pretend none of it is personal.
It always is.
Outside, the vines stand steady against old wood. Growth that survived because we moved first.
I pick up my keys.
If Paradise wants visibility, they can have it.
I’m done standing still.