Josie #2
When I hang up, the vineyard looks exactly as it did an hour ago.
The frost didn’t take us. The court hasn’t ruled.
But one hundred cases of our award-winning wine just disappeared from the front of a restaurant list because someone decided it would be easier to avoid the conversation it might spark.
Paradise didn’t need better grapes this morning. They just needed cameras.
My phone buzzes again as I step back into the house.
This time it’s Matt Lawson. He’s a doctor who works in pediatrics with my brother-in-law, Ryker, at the hospital, and he’s been to the vineyard a handful of times. He’s a friend, and when he’s not dating anyone, I’m his safe plus one.
Matt: Heard this is the trial’s first day. How are 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 he did. Ryker is married to my younger sister, Ginny, but he’s also a Paradise, so he knows how difficult today is for both families.
I stand with the phone in my hand, reading the message again. There is nothing wrong with Matt; there’s just zero chemistry. But that is a problem.
We’ve talked about the fundraiser, though. Paradise Hill is the lead sponsor, and Max Paradise is scheduled to give the opening remarks.
I’m not sure I can do that today. I put my phone in my pocket to think it over.
I’m halfway up the eastern row, the sun cresting the ridge, when Ric calls.
I swipe to answer and tuck it 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 a hollow courtroom echo.
“What happened?” I ask, tightening the wire until it hums.
“The judge is questioning whether we can use the evidence we have 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. “Less. A lot less.”
“What do we do?” I ask, standing again.
“It means Evie’s more exposed,” Ric says.
“Exposed to what?” I ask.
“A conviction,” he replies.
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. “What else?”
“Dylan and Scott showed up,” he says.
I puff out a short breath through my nose. “Of course they did. I’m sorry. I’ve been in the vineyard since before five.”
“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 ask.
“If Evie loses,” he says. “If there’s jail time.”
I laugh once, sharp and humorless. “Coastal seems to be worried about those same things.”
There’s a beat. “What happened with Coastal?” Ric asks.
“Claire called to say they’re removing our Estate Reserve,” I say, resisting the urge to scream. “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. “Make sure Evie doesn’t know yet. She needs to be 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.”
There’s a voice in the background, but I can’t make out the words.
“They’re calling us back in,” Ric says. “We don’t have a ruling yet.”
“And if the judge narrows the case?” I ask.
“Then we pivot.”
“And if Evie loses?” I press.
Ric exhales. “Then we deal with that when we have to.”
That’s not reassurance. That’s chaos.
I tighten another tie that doesn’t need tightening. “I want to know what’s going on,” I tell him. “Don’t soften it for me.”
“I’m not softening anything,” Ric replies. “Listen, we’re going back in. I’ll call you when I know something.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
The line clicks dead.
I return to the main house to grab the production binder Evie took to her bedroom last night.
The big house is silent. Photographs of generations past fill the walls, but there’s nothing that really says family.
I wish this situation with Evie were something all us Dempseys were navigating together, as a united front, rather than my siblings and me trying to anticipate the fallout while our grandmother pushes us away and our cousins plot in an entirely different camp.
I pick up the binder and flip through. The numbers align cleanly. Around me the house is large and composed, but it does not feel lived in.
My phone vibrates as I head back toward my house. It’s Evan Morgan this time.
Evan: Tell your grandmother good luck today. I’m sure she’ll bulldoze the judge like she does everyone else.
I stop walking.
Evan and I met in high school, and after he returned to town last year, we went out twice. After the second dinner, I told him I wasn’t interested in taking things further. He said he understood. Yet he’s texted four times since.
Me: Please don’t text me about my family.
His reply comes almost immediately.
Evan: Just being supportive.
But it doesn’t feel like support. He doesn’t know me. I don’t want him to.
I lock the screen without answering. When I say I’m not interested, I mean it. I don’t leave space for interpretation.
My phone buzzes again, twice, before I reach my front steps.
Ric: Adjourned for the day. Judge wants supplemental briefs. Max spoke to media after and slammed Black Bear. Our lawyers are putting together a libel claim.
Coastal Distribution: We’ve reviewed our order for Q4. No further changes right now, but we’ll keep you updated.
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 pops up on the screen as I go inside.
Matt: It’ll keep the press off you. No one asks questions when you’re standing beside a doctor. Plus, this isn’t a black-tie event. Just casual, so you can come as you are.
I read it twice. I had completely forgotten that he wants me to be his plus one at the fundraiser 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 suddenly people behave.
Me: I’ll come. But not because I need cover.
The dots appear.
Matt: Of course not. Just dinner and a fundraiser.
Just.
I set the phone on my kitchen counter and look out at the vineyard. The rows are clean, the day is done. You would never know what almost happened at dawn. You would never know what had shifted by nine.
Coastal gave our Estate Reserve slot to Paradise. The judge may narrow Evie’s defense. Tonight much of the town will gather and pretend none of it is personal.
Yet it always is.
Outside, the vines stand steady against old wood, growth that survived because we moved first.
I pick up my keys.
I’m going to the fundraiser tonight. If Paradise wants that visibility, they can have it.
But I’m done standing still.