Chapter 40
FORTY
Blackwood Estate Winery
Late Afternoon
The tasting room was in that soft, in-between stretch before closing.
Low jazz drifted from the speakers. The last of the day’s tasters lingered near the windows, watching the sun slide down the vineyard rows. Glasses clinked. The big barn felt calmer than it had in days.
Savannah stood at the host stand, tapping something into her tablet. Chloe was at the merch wall, refolding T-shirts into perfect little stacks. Lockwood sat on a stool near the middle of the bar, a glass of water in front of him and a dog-eared field notebook open in his hands.
Declan O’Rourke occupied a barstool a few seats down, a glass of Mabel’s Chardonnay in front of him, jacket slung over the back of his chair.
Bennett moved behind the bar, towel over one shoulder, swapping out a rack of clean stems.
The double doors opened.
Conversation dipped.
Anne Langford stepped inside.
Nobody here needed another description. They’d all heard the café version.
Still, for a heartbeat, the room went still.
Chloe’s hands stopped mid-fold over a stack of shirts.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Yeah. Copy that.”
Savannah’s stylus froze over the tablet.
Lockwood sat up a little straighter.
At the bar, Declan’s fingers tightened around the stem of his glass before he set it down and smoothed his tie like a man resetting his face.
Bennett went still for half a second.
Anyone who hadn’t known him wouldn’t have noticed.
Declan did.
Anne took in the room with a slow sweep—exposed beams, suspended bar, massive glass wall framing the vines. Her mouth curved.
“Well,” she said. “Mabel did know how to make an entrance, didn’t she?”
“Depends who you ask,” Chloe muttered, then winced when Savannah elbowed her lightly.
Declan slid off his stool as though he’d only just noticed her. Above his shoulder, Walter had gone completely still.
Declan knew exactly who she was. He wore polite curiosity like a suit.
“Now there’s a face I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of,” he said, stepping into her path. “Declan O’Rourke.” The Irish lilt wrapped around the syllables, easy and charming. “I do some work for the winery.”
Anne’s gaze flicked over him, quick and assessing. “Lawyer?” she asked.
“Something like that.” His eyes crinkled. “And you must be—“
“Anne,” she supplied. “Aubrey’s mother.”
Declan’s smile broadened exactly the right amount.
“Ah,” he said. “That explains the rumors.” He tipped his head toward the mezzanine. “You gave the whole of City Limits heart palpitations this afternoon, so I hear.”
Anne laughed, the sound rolling through the barn. “I just walked in for a burger,” she said. “Everybody else decided it was an event.”
“I’d say that’s on them,” Declan replied. “Not on you.”
Behind the bar, Bennett finally moved.
He came out from behind the counter, towel still in one hand.
“Ms. Langford,” Bennett said.
Anne looked his way.
Bennett held himself the way he always did—shoulders back, weight easy, eyes steady. Only the muscle flexing along his jaw and the towel tightening in his hand gave him away.
“Bennett McCrae,” Anne said softly, taking him in.
“So you’re the one...who’s been keeping this place alive while my daughter figures out which end of a corkscrew is which?” Anne asked lightly.
Savannah’s shoulders stiffened.
“So far she’s doin’ fine all on her own,” Lockwood put in from his stool. “We just try not to get in her way.”
Anne’s gaze drifted to the young man sitting at the bar.
“And you are?”
He stood, offering a polite smile.
“Jack Lockwood. Field operations.”
Anne shook his hand.
“Lockwood,” she repeated. “I’ve heard that name more than a few times over the years.”
He chuckled.
“Hopefully for the right reasons.”
Anne smiled.
“I’ll reserve judgment until I know you better.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
She gave him a slow, appreciative once-over. “Well,” she said. “Seems Mabel surrounded herself with very capable men. I suppose I should be grateful.”
“Grateful’s a start,” Chloe muttered under her breath.
“Chloe,” Savannah hissed, not quite hiding her smile.
From above came the sharp crack of a binder hitting the mezzanine floor.
Every head turned.
Walter stood frozen at the railing.
The ledger lay open at his feet.
He wasn’t looking at it. He was looking at Anne.
“Lord,” Chloe whispered. “Okay, this is getting dramatic.”
Anne’s eyes followed the collective gaze.
For a second, her composure slipped.
“Walter,” she said.
The name came out soft.
“Anne,” he managed.
Declan watched them with the same sharp attention he reserved for witness statements. He knew the story in broad strokes—the girl who’d left, the man who hadn’t, and the sister who’d married into the middle of it.
Seeing it was something else entirely.
Anne gave a little shake of her head, as if waking from a dream.
“Well, come on then,” she called up, forcing brightness into her voice. “You gonna hide up there like the Ghost of Bookkeeping Past, or are you comin’ down here to say hello properly?”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
Walter bent and picked up the fallen ledger. Aubrey stepped out onto the mezzanine as Walter started down. She’d heard the ledger hit the floor from Mabel’s office and come to check on him. She hadn’t expected… this.
Anne stood in the light from the glass wall, her sunglasses abandoned on the bar and her sharp blue eyes fixed on Aubrey.
“There she is,” Anne said, satisfaction threaded through the words. “My girl.”
Aubrey’s hand curled around the mezzanine banister.
At the edge of her vision, she caught Walter’s face as he stepped off the last stair. He looked wrecked.
Aubrey started down the metal steps.
“Look at you,” Anne said, spreading her arms as if expecting a hug. “Running this whole place. I leave you alone for five minutes, and you go and become a CEO.”
Aubrey took the last two steps into the tasting room.
“Hi, Anne,” she said.
Chloe’s eyes widened. Even Savannah went still for a second.
Anne’s smile faltered—a fraction—before she smoothed it back into place.
“Formal, are we?” she said lightly. “All right, then. Anne, it is.”
Savannah retreated behind the host stand, pretending to rearrange tasting menus. Lockwood eased back onto his stool.
The last couple in the corner murmured an excuse and slipped out.
Walter stepped off the last stair and came to a stop a few feet from Anne.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
Her expression softened.
“Walter.”
She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him. He returned the embrace, carefully.
Anne leaned back first, her hands lingering on his arms.
"It's so good to see you."
Walter swallowed.
“Good to see you made it up here,” he managed, his voice rougher than usual.
Aubrey lifted her chin.
"I'll show you to the house, assuming that's where you're staying."
Her voice was steadier than she felt.
Anne smiled. “Where else would I stay?”
Plenty of places.
She didn't say it.
Bennett stepped forward. “Long drive from Florida,” he said. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”
Anne smiled.
“Only if it’s the best one you’ve got.”
Bennett smiled. “That’ll narrow it down to about forty choices.”
A few laughs rippled through the room, the tension easing enough for people to breathe again.
Savannah disappeared behind the bar.
Chloe found something that suddenly needed to be folded.
Lockwood excused himself.
Walter never took his eyes off Anne.
Aubrey noticed.
In one silent embrace, she'd learned more about the last thirty years than anyone had ever told her.