Josie
Twenty
One morning the following week, my phone starts ringing before the sun is fully up. I’m still half asleep when the sound pulls me toward the nightstand, the screen glowing faintly in the dim room. Sera.
I answer with a quiet hello, pushing sleep from my voice. On the other end Sera exhales before speaking. “The housekeeper found Evie this morning.”
I sit up slowly, the sheet sliding back from my shoulder. “Found her?” I ask, though something in Sera’s tone already answers the question. The silence that follows is brief but unmistakable.
“She arrived around six,” Sera says. “Evie didn’t come down like she usually does, so she checked upstairs.” Her voice stays even, but the words fall heavily in the quiet room.
“What happened?” I ask.
“She was in bed,” Sera says after a moment. “It looks like she died in her sleep.”
I swing my feet to the floor and rest my elbows on my knees. For a moment I stare at the wall across the room, trying to place this information somewhere it will make sense.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“Yes,” Sera says quietly. “The housekeeper called me right away. I came over to the house to check.”
Evie has ruled that house since long before I was born, moving through it like the center of gravity. How can she just be gone?
“What are you doing now?” I ask.
“I’m here,” she says. “Ric is on his way. We’ll need to start calling people soon.”
Her voice stays steady, but there’s something beneath it that feels unfamiliar. Sera handles most crises without hesitation, yet this one sits differently in the air between us.
“I’ll come up,” I say, pushing myself to stand. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Thank you.”
The call ends, and I lower the phone and stand there in the soft gray light of the bedroom, the stillness around me feeling strangely suspended.
Evie is gone. She died in her sleep. How anticlimactic. I always pictured her going out in a blaze of glory and burning it all down along the way. Although…maybe we don’t yet know what she’s done.
I move toward the closet, pulling on jeans and a sweater while my mind tries to catch up. I brush my hair back and reach for my phone again. For a moment I hesitate, uncertain who to call or what exactly needs to be said first.
Then Alex’s name rises easily to the surface. He should even be awake by now.
“Hey,” he says when he picks up. “Everything okay?”
I lean against the dresser as I speak. “Sera just called,” I tell him, the words still feeling unfamiliar in my mouth. “Evie died sometime during the night.”
There’s a brief pause on the line before he responds. “Are you serious? Oh, Josie. I’m so sorry.”
“Yes,” I say. “The housekeeper found her this morning and called Sera. She went over to confirm.”
A quiet moment passes. Alex’s voice is softer when he speaks again. “Are you heading up there?”
“I’m getting dressed now,” I say, glancing toward the door. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do yet.”
“You don’t have to know right away,” he says. “Just go see Sera.”
“I will,” I answer.
“I’m here. I’m going to work, but call me if you need anything. I mean it.”
I don’t know why, but that makes me feel so much better. “Thanks.”
Clutching the phone against my shoulder, I slip my shoes on and grab my coat from the chair near the door. The morning light is stronger outside the window, the sky shifting from gray toward pale blue. “I’ll call you later,” I tell him.
“Okay,” Alex says. “I’m thinking about you. Be safe.”
The line clicks off. I tuck the phone into my pocket and take one last look around the room before heading for the door, the weight of this bearing down as I step out toward the drive that leads up to the main house.
The walk feels shorter than usual. In no time I spot Sera’s car near the steps and Ric’s car next to it.
The house looks the way it always does, broad windows facing the vineyard and the porch stretching along the front like a stage. For a moment the stillness makes it difficult to reconcile the ordinary view with the call that pulled me here.
The front door opens before I reach it. Sera stands in the entry, her arms folded across her sweater as she watches me walk up the steps.
“Thank you for coming,” she says when I reach the threshold.
“I didn’t hit any traffic,” I reply, the running joke we have about getting from our homes to the main house. As I step in, the house smells as it always does, unchanged by anything that’s occurred.
Sera closes the door behind me and leads the way into the main room. The tall windows along the back wall catch the first full light of the day, illuminating the long table where Evie usually takes breakfast.
Ric stands at the far end of the room as we enter. His jacket is draped over a chair, and he looks up as Sera and I approach.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
He opens his arms, and both Sera and I step in. So many details flash through my mind. Evie has always been here. Now what? Somehow I never thought this day would come.
“Anyone else here yet?” I ask.
“Not yet,” Sera replies, though she glances toward the front hall. Her attention keeps shifting toward the door as if she expects it to open again any moment.
Ric leads us to the sitting room. “I’ve notified her lawyer, and he’ll call and get things started. He’s going to alert her criminal attorneys so they can notify the court, and talk to the funeral home. Hopefully the press won’t learn about it until we’re ready. We’ll start making calls soon.”
I nod, appreciating the authority in his voice. Then the sound of tires on gravel breaks the quiet. A truck pulls into the drive. Our cousin Dylan steps out before the engine has fully stopped. The door slams behind him.
He climbs the steps quickly and pushes the front door open without knocking. His eyes sweep the room as soon as he steps inside. “So it’s true,” he says, his voice cutting through the room. “She’s gone.”
Sera’s posture tightens beside me. “The housekeeper found her this morning,” she says. “She was in bed.”
Dylan glances past us toward the hallway. “Where is everyone else?”
“We haven’t started calling people yet,” Ric answers calmly. “We’re still figuring out what needs to happen.”
Dylan walks farther into the house, his boots striking the floor with deliberate weight. The way he moves shifts the air around him, the quiet structure Ric had been putting together now threatening to tilt.
“Well,” Dylan says, looking around the house, “we’re not turning this place into a circus.”
Sera’s expression remains neutral, though I can feel the tension in the space between us.
Evie spent a lifetime making promises, often telling each person exactly what they wanted to hear.
Dylan and Mike think Evie’s left the vineyard to them, but she also told Sera and me we would be in charge of her legacy.
And who knows what else she’s told people or what she really wanted.
Only when her will is read will we discover which promises were real and which were only words.
Dylan plants one hand on the back of a chair and looks toward the front door again. “I don’t want people wandering through here all morning,” he says firmly. “This is still my house.”
Ric steps forward slightly, the movement subtle but unmistakable. “Let’s slow down a minute,” he says in the same steady tone he’s used since I arrived.
Dylan barely glances at him before continuing. “Anyone who doesn’t need to be here should head out,” he says, sweeping his gaze across the room. “We’ll deal with everything else later.”
This morning that began in silence now carries the unmistakable weight of a gathering storm.
Dylan shifts his weight beside the table and looks around the room again. “I meant what I said,” he adds. “Gran made it clear that this would be my home, and I’m responsible for the land, and I don’t want people coming in and out like it’s a public building.”
As if he’s somehow summoned them, the rest of our cousins arrive. The room fills quickly.
Sera folds her arms and studies Dylan for a moment before speaking. “That isn’t how this works,” she says, her calm cutting more cleanly than anger would.
Dylan gives her a sharp look. “It’s exactly how it works,” he replies. “Evie’s gone, and this place belongs to me.”
“Let’s slow down,” Ric suggests again. “I’ve notified Evie’s children.” He looks over at Sera and me. “Dad’s on his way. And Mom is quite happy in Mexico. She said she isn’t coming back.”
I can feel my eyes widen at that, but Sera doesn’t take her eyes off Dylan. “No one owns anything yet,” she tells him. “Until the will is located and read, there’s no legal authority over the estate.”
Dylan lets out a short breath that lands somewhere between disbelief and irritation. He glances toward the hallway and then back at Sera, as if measuring how far he can push the moment. “We all know how this is going to end,” he says.
“We’ll see,” Sera replies. “But assumptions aren’t the same as authority.”
Ric steps closer to the table, positioning himself between them without making it obvious. “Nobody needs to make decisions in the first ten minutes,” he says quietly.
My attention drifts toward the hallway that leads into the house.
Evie spent decades controlling every corner of this place, shaping the family’s movements with the same certainty she applied to the vineyard itself.
The house feels different without her in it, the quiet authority she carried is gone so completely that now people—well, Dylan—are rushing to fill the vacuum.
I glance toward Sera, and a quiet understanding passes between us as we recognize the fragile reality beginning to take shape.
Evie’s estate isn’t settled.
The vineyard isn’t in clear hands. If Dylan gets control, they’ll have the vines gone in a week to plant cannabis. All of my work will be erased.
“The police and coroner should be here any minute,” Sera says. “Then we’ll have to hope her funeral plans are clear in the will. We are going to do things in the order the lawyer says we should.”
Dylan jumps up. “I don’t want to waste a cent on that lawyer.”
“Did she tell you that you’d be executor of the will?” Ric asks.
Dylan goes quiet. Seems that hadn’t occurred to him. Not surprising.
“Anyone?” Ric looks around the room. No one moves.
Cousin Kaitlyn dabs at her eyes.
“We’ll wait.” Sera folds her arms, and for a moment the room falls silent.
Dylan shifts his weight and glances toward the front door, the impatience in his movements making the air feel tighter. “Once the lawyer shows up,” he says, “this will all get sorted out.”
Ric nods, still maintaining the calm center of the room. “That’s the right order of things,” he replies.
Sera exhales and sits down at the table. The conversation pauses there, but the uncertainty that has entered the house remains firmly in place.