Josie
Thirty-four
I give up on sleep shortly after five.
The ceiling has become far too familiar, and every time I close my eyes, my brain circles back to yesterday.
Evie’s will. Ric. Sera. The Napa opportunity.
Questions I can’t answer yet. Decisions I don’t want to make.
By the time the alarm would normally go off, I’m already dressed and heading for the door.
I’m back at the vineyard as the sun breaks the sky. The weather is perfect, and as I pull in, I notice a vehicle parked near the building. Most mornings, especially this early, the place is quiet.
The conversation after the reading of the will replays itself again, whether I want it to or not. Accusations. Hurt feelings. Shock. Everyone is trying to figure out what Evie was thinking while Ric sat there looking like he’d been handed a live grenade.
My stomach twists.
None of this is his fault.
Then the office building’s front door opens and Ric steps out carrying a travel mug, his suit jacket nowhere in sight.
He looks tired even from a distance, which honestly makes him seem more like himself.
The polished psychologist who once ran away and lived in Vancouver never quite fits here. This version does.
I shouldn’t be surprised he’s already here.
Ric spots me and walks over. Before I can ask how long he’s been here, he turns out toward the vineyard, looking over the rows. “I’m going to make this right,” he says.
I shake my head immediately. “You don’t owe us anything.”
His attention cuts back to me. “Josie—”
“I mean it.” I fold my arms against the morning chill and look past him to the first rows catching the light. “You don’t need to repair Evie’s decisions because Sera and I are hurt. That isn’t yours to fix. You need to decide what you want.”
Ric exhales, and the sound carries more fatigue than frustration. “This was never my plan.”
“I know.”
“No, I need you to hear me.” He shifts the travel mug between his hands and glances toward the winery, where the lights are already on behind the windows. “I never wanted Black Bear. I never wanted to run it. I never wanted to own it. I wanted nothing from Evie.”
That makes me chuckle, because I know it’s true. “Everyone else wanted something, so she gave it to the one person who didn’t. Well, Ginny and Addie didn’t want anything either, and they also got nothing. At least they’re not disappointed.” I shrug. “What can you do?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” He rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “I’m already working with lawyers. We’re looking at what authority I actually have during probate, what, if anything, in her will I can change, what I can’t, and how much of this is locked down.”
I watch his face, trying to separate my older brother from the man now holding the legal weight of Evie’s last move. “And how much you can undo?”
“That’s the other part.” His mouth curves without humor. “I’m trying to figure out how to protect Black Bear without making the whole thing worse.”
“How bad is it?” I ask.
Ric looks down at his coffee for a moment before answering. “Two of Evie’s three children are already suing me.”
“Already?”
“These were ready before the will was read.” He lifts one shoulder, but the attempt at indifference fails before it fully forms. “Apparently grief moves fast when lawyers are involved.” He sighs. “But this is what probate is for, and thankfully, Evie made David Graham the executor.”
A sharp answer rises in my throat, but I swallow it. Anger would be easy, and maybe even deserved, but throwing more of it at Ric would only make me one more person unloading on the wrong target. I did enough of that yesterday. “A small gift from Evie.”
He takes a sip of coffee and looks off toward the vineyard road. “Dylan reached out. Scott, too. They’re not suing yet, but they’ve made it clear they want answers about the estate.”
“You shouldn’t have to fix all of this,” I tell him.
Ric looks at me the way he used to when we were younger and he could tell I was trying not to fall apart. “Maybe not,” he says. “But here we are.”
I study him as the morning light moves slowly across the vineyard. The longer I stand beside him, the harder it is to keep my anger pointed in his direction. Evie made the decision. Ric is only the person she left with the mess.
“I know none of this is what you wanted,” I tell him.
Ric looks over at me, his coffee halfway to his mouth. For a second, he seems ready to argue out of habit, but then he nods.
“You built a career,” I point out. “You built an actual life away from this.”
“I didn’t come back for the vineyard,” he says.
“I know.”
And I do. Whatever fear and confusion engulfed me during Evie’s video, the aftermath has faded now.
Of course he didn’t. He didn’t come back to Paradise because he wanted control of Black Bear, and he sure as hell didn’t come back because he wanted to inherit the fallout from Evie’s last act of manipulation.
“You came back because Sera and I were drowning with Evie micromanaging us into the ground.”
Ric looks away, and for once he doesn’t offer a calmer version of the truth. He doesn’t tell me Evie meant well. He doesn’t say she was difficult because she cared. He only nods, and the quiet acceptance in that makes me feel a little more like we’re on the same team.
For years, I thought Ric was the one who escaped. Now I’m not so sure.
It seems Evie found a way to pull him back even after he’d built a life outside her reach. Maybe giving him Black Bear wasn’t trust or love or some grand recognition of his competence. Maybe it was one more way to make sure none of us ever got cleanly free of her.
I lean against his shoulder. “I hate that everyone is acting like you won something.”
Ric’s expression shifts, and the gratitude there is small but unmistakable.
“I don’t know what makes this a prize,” he says quietly.
“But what about you? I hear you’re close with Black Bear’s new owner.
” When I look up at him, there’s finally a spark in his eye. “What about the main house?” he asks.
“What about it?”
“If you wanted to move in,” he says, “we could talk about that.”
The laugh slips out before I can stop it. The idea is so wrong that my body rejects it before my brain catches up. “No. Not a chance. Given its size, Sera and I thought it could be a great restaurant and wedding venue. We thought Kaitlyn and Logan might help get those off the ground.”
Ric thinks for a second and then nods. “I like that idea.”
“I still don’t know what I’m going to do, though,” I clarify.
Ric doesn’t answer right away, and I’m grateful for that. He’s always been good at silence when silence serves a purpose. He turns slightly toward me, giving me his attention without taking control of the conversation.
“Sera doesn’t know either.” I tuck my hands into my jacket pockets and keep my eyes on the nearest block. “We’re both hurt, Ric. More than I think either of us knows what to do with.”
He nods, and I take a deep breath. “It isn’t just the vineyard.” My throat feels tight, but the words keep coming. “I know that’s what everyone will think. They’ll say we’re angry about money, or land, or control, but that’s not really it.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s what it says.” I finally glance at him, and the pain behind my ribs sharpens. “Evie gave everything to you, even though Sera and I have kept this business running for years. It’s like she wanted to advertise that she didn’t trust us, didn’t think our work was enough.”
He lowers his gaze for a moment, accepting the words without flinching. That makes it harder. It would be easier if he argued. If he defended her, I could push back. If he acted entitled, I could be furious.
Instead, he looks as trapped as the rest of us. He pulls me in, and I hold on to him as tears pool in my eyes.
“Sera and I have worked here our whole lives,” I say. “We showed up. We stayed. We did the work even when she made it impossible, and then she left us with a will that says none of it mattered.”
Ric’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t reach for an easy answer. There isn’t one. That may be the kindest thing he can give me right now.
“So I don’t think the hurt is really about what we didn’t get.”
He nods.
“It feels like rejection,” I say.
Ric takes a slow breath and looks toward the winery. When he turns back, his expression has changed. “There’s more about the estate,” he says. “It’s larger than anyone realized.”
“Larger how?”
“There are significant assets beyond the vineyard.” He shifts his coffee, and the pause before he continues tells me he is choosing his words carefully. “Businesses, investments, property holdings, accounts. The lawyers are working through it with her accountant.”
I can feel my eyes widen. Black Bear has always been the center of our family’s world. Who knew there was anything else. “She said nothing about that.”
“No,” Ric says. “She didn’t.”
Of course she didn’t. Evie treated information like currency, and she spent it only when it bought her something. Keeping everyone uncertain was one of the ways she stayed in control.
“So what happens?” I ask.
“That’s the problem.” He shakes his head. “It isn’t easy to divide. The structure is complicated, and there are provisions attached to almost everything.”
“Provisions?” I ask.
“And conditions.” His mouth tightens. “A lot of them.”
That sounds exactly like Evie. Even gone, she has managed to leave rules, limits, traps, and consequences for everyone else to sort through.
“She couldn’t just leave things clean,” I say.
“Everything is interconnected,” he agrees. “The vineyard ties into other businesses. Some of the properties support operations. Some of the assets affect the others if they’re sold or transferred.”
“So breaking it apart makes it more complicated,” I say.
“It could.” Ric’s answer is careful, which tells me the truth is probably uglier than he wants to say. “The lawyers are trying to figure out what can be separated, what can’t, and what happens if someone forces the issue.”
“And I thought the will reading was awful…”
“So did I.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Now I think it may get worse.”
“Well, I’m staying through harvest,” I tell him. “That hasn’t changed. And I think Sera feels the same way.”
“That’s good to hear.” His voice is quieter now. “Thank you, Josie.”
We stand for another minute, and then he turns toward the building. “I guess I’d better get back to it.” He gives me a final nod before heading inside, and I watch him disappear through the door before turning toward the vineyard.
The rows of grapes stretch across the hillside, waiting for attention, untouched by wills, lawsuits, and family politics. Mid-June work waits for no one.
I start at the nearest block and move slowly through the rows, checking grape development and vine health as I go.
Tiny clusters are forming as they should be, and the familiar routine soon begins settling my thoughts.
From there I inspect irrigation lines, stop to repair a sprinkler that isn’t rotating properly, and adjust water schedules where conditions require it.
The work demands attention but not emotion, and after the last twenty-four hours, that feels like a relief. Each block presents a problem, but it can be identified, evaluated, and addressed. There is comfort in that kind of clarity. If only I had it in all aspects of my life.