Chapter 43
Forty-three
Alaric
The courtyard tent glows with warm light in a slight rain as the celebration of the start of the growing season settles into its annual rhythm.
People from the community, our employees, and even staff from other wineries drift from table to table with glasses of our new releases, and the murmur of conversation rises under the canvas roof.
I stand beside Liz near the back where we can see the lectern clearly.
Evie has insisted on addressing everyone here, something she hasn’t done in years. That puts a knot in my stomach.
Also swirling in my stomach is the fact that yesterday started with a plan to have a real conversation with Liz and ended with me extending an invitation that interrupted more than it clarified, leaving everything unfinished. She’s here with me now, but I’m still not sure what that means.
I push the thought aside. This isn’t the moment for it. Whatever is happening with Evie this afternoon will probably need my full attention.
Evie steps up to the microphone with the confidence she wears like a birthright. Her suit is immaculate, and the crowd quiets without being asked. Whatever else she is, Evie knows how to command a room.
“Thank you for being here,” she begins. “We’re entering what should be a remarkable season. Our vineyards are strong. Our team is stronger. And the valley, as ever, remains resilient.”
A few approving nods ripple through the crowd. She feeds on that and leans toward the microphone. “We’ve faced challenges. Some were expected. Some were not. And through all of it, we kept our standards high. Some families can’t say the same.”
My jaw tightens. She doesn’t have to name the Paradises. The crowd feels the implication. A few people trade glances, as if checking whether they really heard her go there this early in the speech.
She keeps talking about growth and stability, but her voice takes on a sharper edge, as if she’s testing the blade she’s been dying to use.
“For too long, we’ve allowed certain influences to disrupt the balance in this valley,” she says.
“People who believe their history gives them license to interfere with work they don’t understand. ”
Liz shifts beside me. Something is off. This is aggressive, even for Evie. Her shoulders have pulled higher, as if she’s bracing for a hit that hasn’t landed yet.
Taking a breath, Evie straightens the stack of note cards she hasn’t actually looked at once. “Others might claim innocence, but I know better. I’ve always known better. This valley survives because of decisive action, not handwringing.”
Confused glances pass through the crowd. Someone near the front whispers behind their hand. Evie seems to notice and pushes ahead.
“Nothing we’ve done has ever been reckless. Everything has been deliberate. Necessary. When other vineyards have tried to undermine us, we’ve acted to protect what generations have built.”
The murmurs start then. And it seems that’s not the response she expects. For a second, her smile falters, but she props it back up and forges on.
“People pretend damage happens by accident,” she says, a slight tremor in her voice. “That diseased vines appear from nowhere. That irrigation systems collapse without cause. I’ve never believed in coincidence. I believe in strategy.”
Liz’s hand brushes mine, and she looks up at me, eyebrows raised. She’s never witnessed this firsthand before. Evie is slipping, and the crowd feels it. Even the servers have gone still, as if any sound might shatter what little control she has left.
Movement at the edge of the tent draws my eye. Two detectives step inside. Their timing is unmistakable. A couple of people near the entrance turn toward them with wide eyes.
When Evie sees them, she freezes mid-sentence.
Something tightens in her face. She tries to force a smile, as if they’re here to honor her, but it doesn’t land.
She clears her throat. “I can’t say I’m surprised to see law enforcement here this afternoon.
Someone finally decided to address the mess created by others. ”
A man two rows ahead murmurs, “What mess?” His wife shushes him, but she’s leaning forward too, trying to catch every word.
The detectives don’t speak. They just watch Evie patiently.
She grips the lectern, her expression steady. “If I authorized certain measures, it was after every alternative had been raised and dismissed. Warnings were issued. Concerns were documented. They weren’t acted on by the consortium, by the community, or by the Paradise family.”
A ripple of tension moves through the crowd. Someone whispers, “Approved what?”
People are connecting the dots.
She presses on, voice shaking now. “I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for disaster. I intervened. I corrected what needed correcting.”
Several people gasp. By now, they seem to understand exactly what she’s saying. A woman near the front turns to the person beside her, eyes wide. Another covers her mouth with her hand.
Evie seems oblivious to the way her words are landing, though I can’t imagine how she thought this was going to go well.
“I protected this valley,” she says, almost pleading now. “Every decision I made was for all of you. While others coasted on old reputations, I did the hard work none of you wanted to touch.”
The detectives step a little closer. The crowd shifts back. Even from where I stand, I can feel the temperature in the tent drop.
Evie’s breathing turns uneven as her composure frays.
She keeps looking from the detectives to the audience, searching for the admiration she’s always been able to summon.
But the faces staring back don’t match the story she’s telling herself.
Her gaze jumps to her grandchildren, who are mostly lined up off to one side, as if she’s expecting one of them to nod, stand, step forward. None of them moves.
Her voice rises. “Don’t stand there acting shocked. You know what this valley asked of me. You know how much I’ve carried. You’ve watched the Paradise family sabotage us for decades and expected me to sit quietly while everything our family built falls apart.”
People whisper, unsettled. One man shakes his head and mutters, “This isn’t true.”
The woman next to him says, “I don’t think she understands what she’s admitting.”
Evie leans forward as if she can drag the room back under her control through force of will. “I did what I had to do. If a few vines were damaged or a well ran dry or a shipment went missing, it’s because I refused to let them destroy us. I won’t apologize for that.”
The detectives move to the front row, and the crowd parts without hesitation. The realization lands fully now. This isn’t rumor. She is confessing, piece by piece, to the sabotage the valley has been whispering about for years.
Evie seems to realize it then—the shift in the room, the quiet withdrawal. No one speaks in her defense. Her gaze moves to her grandchildren again, accusation sharpening her expression, as though their silence has joined the charge against her.
Then real panic registers on her face. “You benefited from what I did,” she says, her voice fracturing. “You praised the numbers, the harvest, the quality. You took the reward and left me to carry the consequences.”
Her hand slips from the lectern, and she steadies herself, eyes wide. “I saved you. All of you.”
No one responds. The room offers nothing she can hold on to.
The lead detective steps forward. “Mrs. Dempsey, we need you to come with us while we continue our investigation into the vineyard tampering.”
Evie blinks, as if she misheard. “You’re here for me?”
The detective doesn’t have to answer. The silence does that for him.
Even the people closest to her don’t move or protest, and for once, I’m able to keep myself on the sidelines.
It’s where I’ve said I want to be, and the only way to be there is not to get involved.
Still, it’s painful. This is the smallest I’ve ever seen her.
Her expression falters. “You think I’m the problem? After everything those people did? After what Max started? You think any of this happened without reason?”
Her voice breaks on the last word. It feels like something is finally giving way.
The detective repeats the request, calm and even, and Evie looks around one last time, searching for loyalty that isn’t there. The betrayal on her face is unmistakable, though she’s the one who brought this all on herself.
She draws a shaky breath. “You have no idea what this valley would look like without me.”
As the detectives guide her away from the lectern, the tent stays largely silent, emptied of the power she used to hold in every room.
Liz slips her hand into mine, but I don’t look away from Evie as she walks past. For years, this feud infused itself through every corner of the valley, around every memory we grew up with. Tonight, the story has finally revealed itself in public, the truth laid out where everyone can see it.
I always thought Evelyn Dempsey would go out fighting. I just didn’t expect the fight to be with ghosts only she could see.
When the police and my grandmother disappear from view, the tent finally exhales, and conversations start again in low tones.
Something old ends in that moment, something loud and long-standing.
The valley feels like it’s turning toward something new, something we might be able to build without Evelyn Dempsey’s shadow on every decision.
As the crowd begins to scatter, Liz moves closer, steadying herself beside me. I don’t reach for her, but I feel the anchor of her presence all the same.
Maybe I can build that way too.