Josie
Twenty-seven
“Josephine, this is David Graham, your grandmother’s personal attorney,” he replies.
“I’m calling to confirm that I have been formally appointed executor of the estate, and I’ve initiated a search for all the wills your grandmother may have filed.
If you have a copy, please send it my way.
I’ll need all copies within the next thirty days so I can begin probate. ”
I reach for the shirt and begin to fasten it, my fingers moving automatically while I process what he’s saying. “I don’t have any wills. To my knowledge, she did everything through you.”
“That is what I believe as well,” he says.
I cross the room to the dresser and pick up my watch, fastening it around my wrist. “About the will,” I say, keeping my voice steady as I reach for my shoes. “When is that being read?”
“There will be a formal reading once I know we have her final will and decree, which may take the full thirty days,” he replies. “All relevant parties will be notified in advance once scheduling is finalized.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and slip my foot into one shoe and then the other.
“How long is probate?” I say, tying the first lace and pulling it tight before moving to the second. “Are we talking a few weeks or months?”
“The timeline depends on whether anyone contests the will,” he answers. “At this stage, I can confirm only that it will occur within the next few weeks.”
I push to my feet and reach for my bag, taking my phone into my hand as I move toward the door. “What about the contents? Is there anything I should be preparing for?”
“Details of the will are not something I can discuss prior to the formal reading,” he explains. “My role is to ensure the process is handled correctly and in accordance with the law.”
“Okay,” I tell him. “Then I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“If you have documentation to provide, you may forward it to my office, and it will be reviewed accordingly.”
I start walking toward the vineyard offices, inspecting vines as I go. “Okay. Thank you.”
He disconnects, and I pull my pruning shears out and begin thinning the new growth, removing the weaker shoots so the stronger ones can hold the buds of grapes that are popping. I was barely gone four days, but the growth has gone crazy.
It’s nearly lunchtime by the time I finally get to the office. I don’t like being inside when I could be out in the vines, and the only reason I’m here is because I agreed to meet Sera and go over what happened while I was gone.
I spot Sera before I reach the conference room table.
She’s already seated, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair and her phone turned face down beside her glass.
She looks up as I approach, and the smile that spreads across her face isn’t subtle.
It’s curious in a way that puts me on alert.
I slide into the chair across from her, and she’s already leaning in.
“Well,” she says.
I reach for the lunch she’s ordered in. It’s my regular chicken Caesar salad. “What?”
“Don’t do that,” she says. “You walk in here looking like that and think I’m not going to notice?”
I open my salad and shrug, keeping my attention on the food. “Did Graham call you this morning?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says.
I glance up at her. “He’s moving things along.”
“Mmm…” she hums, leaning back. But the look on her face doesn’t match the casual sound. “We’ll get to that.”
“Do you think Evie had other lawyers do her will?” I ask, taking a sip of water and setting the glass back carefully.
“No, but I’m sure we’ll wish she did when she gives it to Dylan and Scott.” She opens her lunch.
“Why do I have a salad and you have tacos?” I let out a small breath through my nose and reach for my napkin, smoothing it flat against the table before folding it once.
“I sent you a text asking what you wanted for lunch and I didn’t hear back, so I ordered what you normally order. Now stop stalling. Tell me about Napa.”
“It was just a weekend,” I say. “Nothing more than that.” The words sound reasonable, but they don’t land that way, not with her.
“Just a weekend,” she repeats, her elbows on the table. “With Alex.”
I give her a look. “And Eloise and her nanny.”
“And Eloise and the nanny,” she echoes, her gaze steady on me. “So no, not just a weekend. Josie,” she adds, a hint of laughter under her words. “You don’t get to give me the brochure version.”
I shake my head. “There is no brochure.” I rest my hand against the edge of the table to keep it still.
“Start with her,” Sera says, her tone lighter but direct. “With Eloise.”
“We stayed at the Meritage,” I tell her. “Every morning she dragged us to the pool just after breakfast, and she does not believe in easing into anything.”
Sera smiles at that, watching me.
“One day she decided I was her swimming partner,” I add. “And if I stopped moving for more than a second, she’d splash me until I paid attention again.”
“And Alex,” Sera asks.
“He let her run the show,” I reply. “Just stood there like it was completely normal that she’d assigned me a role.”
“Mmm…” she hums again, tilting her head. “Keep going.”
“Zara took her in the afternoons,” I add, folding my hands in my lap. “So we’d go out, do tastings, move from one place to another, and then have dinner.” I look up at her. “It was easy. There was no pressure. No expectations.”
“And you didn’t think about anything else while you were there,” she says.
I glance at her and then away. “Not really.”
Sera rolls her eyes. “I never doubted it.” She leans in, her focus sharpening. I straighten slightly.
“It wasn’t like that,” I say, an edge creeping in.
“What was it like?” she asks.
“We had dinner at The French Laundry the first night,” I say. “And the sommelier recognized me, which was…awkward. And a little surreal.” I shake my head.
Sera’s brows lift.
“It changed the tone a bit,” I add. “But Alex just handled it. Didn’t make it a thing.”
“And you didn’t hate that,” she says.
I meet her eyes. “No. I didn’t.” I exhale slowly. “It was a good weekend. We went, we spent time together, and then we came back.”
Sera nods reaches for her glass again. But then she sets it down without drinking. “Graham called everyone,” she says. “So we’re all in the dark together.”
“Does Ric know anything?” I ask, relieved by the change of topics.
“No. I think he’s just glad he’s not the executor of her will.”
“What do you think is in it?” I ask.
“Depends on the hour. One minute I’m sure she’s given us the vineyard and winery because she always liked what we did,” she says. “The next I think she’s going to give it to Dylan and Scott, just to spite us, even though she knew they’d destroy everything she built.”
I reach for my glass. “She was always telling people what they wanted to hear. We want to continue the vineyard. Dylan and Scott want the land for cannabis. I know Ric told her that, but I have nightmares about losing all the work we’ve done and the progress we’ve made.”
Sera finishes her taco and wipes her mouth. “There’s so much I’d love to do, like expand the tasting room, create a wedding venue, put in a farm-to-table restaurant, sell some of Addie’s paintings of the vineyard. I mean, so much.”
I nod because we’ve talked about this for years, but Evie never fully committed to give us the vineyard. “If it’s clear and says what we expect, it stays with us,” I say, meeting her eyes again. “If it’s not clear…”
Sera nods. “Or if it doesn’t stay with us…”.
“We finish the season,” I say. “We get through harvest, and we close it out properly.”
“Then we’re done,” she adds without hesitation.
“We leave,” I agree.
“You’re serious,” she says, not questioning so much as confirming this.
“I’m not staying to fight over something we don’t have,” I reply. “If it’s not ours, we walk. We have knowledge and experience that will be useful somewhere else.”
She studies me for a second longer, and then nods. “So for now we wait.”
“For the reading,” I confirm.
Sera shifts in her chair, her mouth curving slightly as she reaches for her glass again. “You know the rumors are flying.”
I let out a quiet breath. “Of course they are.”
“They’re already talking about who’s getting what,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “Nobody knows anything.”
“They don’t need to,” she responds. “They’re filling in the blanks anyway.”
“With what?” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “The idea that the vineyard’s going to be split. Or sold. Or tied up long enough that it doesn’t survive the season.”
I press my lips together. “That’s speculation. At the very least, no one will want to leave money on the table. We’ll need to finish the season to cover all the bills we’ll need to pay.”
She watches me, her expression shifting. “And they’re also saying that you’re already making moves.”
I scoff at that. “No, not yet. And I won’t do anything without consulting you. We’re a team, remember?”
She nods. “It’s going to get ugly. People are already choosing sides.”
“What else is new?” I say, holding her gaze. “That’s exactly what she pushed everyone to do—family and the community.”
She sighs. “They’re watching us. Every decision, every shift, every move.”
“We’re running things the same way we have for the last seven years.”
“Then we don’t give them anything else to work with.” We sit in silence for a moment, and then she asks, “So where does Alex fit into this?”
I straighten slightly. “He doesn’t. That’s separate.”
Sera tilts her head. “You just told me you spent the weekend with him and his daughter.”
I choose not to respond to that. “He mentioned that his family has influence in Toronto. What do you think that could mean?”
Sera stills, her eyes narrowing. “Wait,” she says. “Spencer?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Do you think he could be part of the family that owns Spencer Grocery stores?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” That never occurred to me. That Spencer family is incredibly wealthy—one of the five wealthiest families in all of Canada. “He didn’t say, and I’m not going to ask.”
“You spent time with his daughter.”
I give her a sharp look. “And?”
“He told you who he is,” she says. “He brought you into that.”
“I‘m not sure that’s true,” I push back.
Sera shakes her head. “You don’t introduce your daughter to someone unless they mean something to you.”
“But it doesn’t change anything here.”
“If you say so…” She reaches for her glass, and the conversation stalls there.
Nothing is resolved, but there’s no choice but to move forward.