Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Blackwood Estate Winery
Aubrey
Aubrey sat behind Mabel’s desk, surrounded by stacks of paperwork she barely understood.
Vendor contracts. Insurance policies. Employee files. Tax records.
Mabel’s life reduced to paper.
Outside the office windows, sunlight spilled across the vineyard rows, turning the leaves silver-green in the afternoon breeze.
She rubbed her eyes and pushed away from the desk. She’d been staring at numbers for nearly two hours; the spreadsheets were beginning to blur.
A chipped ceramic coffee mug sat near the corner of the desk.
CAFFEINE UNTIL WINE O'CLOCK
The sight of it made her smile despite herself.
“Mabel,” she muttered.
The woman had managed to be intimidating and ridiculous at the same time.
Her gaze drifted toward the bookshelf behind the desk.
For a moment, she considered returning to work.
Instead, she stood.
The shelves were filled with binders, awards, photographs—decades of accumulated history.
Aubrey ran a finger across a gilded frame.
Mabel stood beside Harold in the photograph.
Both younger. Both sunburned. Both smiling.
Happy.
Because nobody had ever looked at her mother that way—not that she’d seen, and never for long.
A familiar ache settled behind her ribs. Before she could stop it, another memory surfaced.
Eighth-grade graduation.
The school gym smelled like floor wax and stale popcorn. Rows of folding chairs filled the basketball court. Every few minutes, the double doors opened and another parent walked in.
Aubrey remembered sitting in the front row, twisting the tassel on her cap while she watched the entrance.
Waiting.
Every time the doors opened, her stomach jumped.
Maybe this time.
Ted sat halfway back, alone, a bouquet resting across his lap.
The ceremony started. The chair stayed empty.
Afterward, Ted hugged her. Told her how proud he was. Took her to dinner. Bought her a ridiculous chocolate cake she hadn’t even asked for.
He made the whole day feel special. Almost.
But later that night she’d still checked her voicemail.
Nothing. Not even a message.
Aubrey swallowed hard.
Thirty-three years old, and it still hurt.
The office door opened. She jumped.
Walter stepped inside carrying a folder. Concern crossed his face immediately.
“You okay?”
Aubrey blinked. Forced a smile.
“Fine.”
Walter looked unconvinced. “That’s usually what people say right before they’re not.”
A laugh escaped her.
He set the folder on the desk.
“Mabel used to say the same thing.”
Aubrey glanced toward the photograph again.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
Walter nodded. “Sure.”
She hesitated. Then finally asked, “Was my mother always like this?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard.
Walter studied her for several seconds before answering.
“Like what?”
“Absent.”
Walter sighed, the sound long and tired.
“Your mother always had one eye on the next thing.”
Aubrey looked down. That sounded painfully accurate.
“Men?”
A sad smile touched Walter’s face.
“Sometimes.”
Only sometimes. That answer told her everything.
Walter glanced toward the vineyard outside the window.
“Anne never liked standing still.”
“What about Mabel?”
The smile deepened.
“Mabel never liked leaving.”
Silence settled between them.
Two sisters.
One always leaving. One always staying.
Walter looked back at her.
“Your aunt wasn’t perfect.”
“No?”
“Lord no.”
That made Aubrey laugh.
“But when Mabel loved something...” His voice softened. “...she stayed.”
The words landed somewhere deep.
She was thinking about birthdays. Graduations. Christmas mornings. Hospital visits.
All the times she’d waited for her mother. And all the times her mother never came.
Walter cleared his throat.
“Mabel was proud of you, you know.”
Aubrey’s eyes burned unexpectedly.
“She barely knew me.”
“She knew enough.”
The room fell quiet again.
Outside, a tractor moved slowly between the vineyard rows.
Walter gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, then headed toward the door.
Before he left, he paused.
“People show you who they are, Aubrey.”
She looked up.
Walter’s expression was thoughtful. Almost sad.
“You just have to decide whether you’re willing to believe them.”
Then he walked out, leaving her alone with the silence, the photograph, and the uncomfortable realization that maybe she'd spent her entire life waiting for her mother to become someone she never intended to be.
Aubrey sat for a long moment, staring at the photograph—at Mabel’s smile, at Harold’s hand resting casually against her back.
The office suddenly felt too quiet.
Too full of ghosts.
Finally, she set the frame back on the shelf. She rubbed her eyes and stood.
Maybe coffee would help.
Or maybe she simply needed to stop staring at paperwork before the numbers fused together.
Burke found Vanessa Mercer exactly where Chloe said he would—in the tasting room of the big barn.
Bennett stood beside her at the end of the bar, a legal pad in front of them. The two of them were talking quietly when Burke approached.
Vanessa looked up first. Designer sunglasses rested on top of her head. A coffee cup occupied one hand.
“Sheriff.”
“Ms. Mercer.”
She smiled.
“Vanessa.”
Burke nodded. “Vanessa.”
Bennett glanced between them. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
As he stepped back, Vanessa’s fingers brushed his sleeve.
Bennett shifted half a step away almost automatically.
“Don’t go far,” she said lightly. “I still need your signature.”
The words were casual.
Automatic.
The kind that came from familiarity.
Bennett gave a brief nod. “I’ll be in my office.”
He walked away without looking back.
Burke watched him disappear down the hall, then turned to Vanessa.
“I’ve got a few questions.”
Her smile faded. “This about Mabel?”
“Yes.”
For the next ten minutes, Burke asked about distribution contracts, disagreements, and recent meetings.
Nothing exciting. Nothing useful.
Vanessa answered everything without hesitation.
“No, we weren’t fighting.”
“Did you disagree?”
“Of course.”
“About what?”
“Pricing. Expansion. Distribution rights.” She lifted one shoulder. “That’s business.”
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
“Three days before she died.”
“About?”
“Distribution.”
“What else?”
Vanessa thought about it.
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
A sad smile appeared.
“She was trying to fix Bennett.”
Burke looked up. “Fix him?”
“Get him dating again.” The smile softened. “Mabel worried about him. Wanted him to move on.”
Burke made a note.
He closed his notebook. “That’s all I’ve got for now.”
Vanessa nodded. “If you need anything else, call me.”
She set her coffee on the bar and slid her sunglasses back into place.
Up on the mezzanine, Aubrey stepped out of Mabel’s office again, this time carrying a stack of folders.
Movement below caught her attention.
Burke now stood at the bar talking to Vanessa Mercer.
Bennett waited near the bottom of the stairs, the file still in his hand.
Vanessa laughed at something Burke said. The sound was easy, unforced.
Bennett slid the file across the bar as she walked over.
Vanessa reached for it without looking, her fingers briefly touching his as she took it.
Bennett pulled his hand back almost immediately, already turning his attention to whatever Burke was saying.
Something about it unsettled Aubrey.
It wasn't the touch. It was how comfortable they seemed together.
Vanessa said something under her breath, just for Bennett.
He gave a small smirk in answer.
Aubrey’s stomach tightened.
And suddenly Aubrey didn’t like Vanessa Mercer.
Not because Vanessa had done anything wrong.
She hadn’t.
Not because Bennett had done anything wrong.
He hadn’t either.
But for one brief, embarrassing moment, Aubrey wanted to march downstairs and ask exactly how many times Vanessa had stood where she was standing.
How many dinners? How many late nights?
The thought hit before she could stop it.
How many times had Bennett touched her?
Heat flashed through her chest.
Sharp. Unpleasant. Possessive.
The feeling was so unlike her that it nearly made her angry.
At the entire ridiculous situation.
Because she had no claim on him.
None.
They weren’t together.
They weren’t even close to together.
They’d slept together.
That was it.
Yet watching them stand there felt strangely like finding someone else sitting in her chair.
The realization irritated her even more.
Wonderful.
Thirty-three years old.
Successful.
Independent.
Old enough to know better.
And still standing on a balcony, counting how many times another woman touches his arm.
Aubrey forced herself to exhale.
Below, Bennett tipped his head toward the stairs.
“Come on,” he said to Vanessa.
She fell into step beside him.
Aubrey watched them climb together to the mezzanine level, cross to the far corner, and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.
Bennett closed the door behind them.
Aubrey’s grip tightened on the folders.
“Unbelievable.” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
Then she caught herself.
Because Vanessa wasn’t the problem.
And Bennett wasn’t either.
The problem was that somewhere between Mabel’s funeral and waking up in Bennett McCrae’s bed, she’d started caring.
That realization was far more alarming than Vanessa Mercer.
Burke glanced up.
Their eyes met briefly.
Aubrey looked away first.
She turned and walked back into Mabel’s office before he could call up to her.
She dropped the folders onto the desk with a little too much force.
Aubrey sank into the chair. Stared at the paperwork.
And discovered she could no longer remember a single thing she’d been reading.