Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
Blackwood Estate Winery
Mabel’s Office
Anne reached the door marked MANAGING DIRECTOR.
She didn't knock.
She turned the brass handle and pushed the door open with enough force that it slapped against the wall.
Aubrey looked up from Mabel's desk, a stack of Mercer documents still spread in front of her.
"Anne?"
She kicked the door shut behind her.
"Tell me Walter's wrong."
Aubrey blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"Tell me you're not making plans to expand this place."
"Why?"
"Because you don't spend twenty years expanding something you're planning to leave."
"No." Anne jabbed a finger toward the windows overlooking the vineyards. "This was supposed to be one year, Aubrey."
Silence.
"One year. You collect your inheritance, sell the winery, and go back to the life you spent years building."
Aubrey slowly stood.
"This is my life right now."
Anne gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
"Listen to yourself."
"What?"
"You sound like her."
Aubrey's expression hardened.
"Who?"
"Mabel."
Anne swept her hand around the office.
"Every conversation with your aunt ended exactly the same way. She always knew what was best for everybody else. And now you're sitting in her chair, making decisions like you're planning to spend the next twenty years here."
She stepped closer.
"She left you this place with strings attached. She tied you to it. She couldn't control you while she was alive..."
Her voice dropped.
"...so she figured out how to do it after she died."
Aubrey felt heat rush into her face.
"No."
Anne frowned.
"No?"
"There is no 'we,' Anne."
"What are you talking about?"
"You keep saying it."
Aubrey held her mother's gaze.
"'We should sell it.'"
"'We should leave.'"
"'We should move on.'"
She shook her head.
"There isn't a 'we.'"
Silence settled between them.
Finally, Anne said quietly,
"I'm your mother."
"And Mabel left this winery to me."
Anne stiffened.
"Exactly."
"No."
Aubrey's voice stayed calm, but there was steel underneath it now.
"Whatever happened between you and Mabel..."
"...whatever happened between you and Harold..."
"...whatever war you've been fighting for the last thirty years..."
"...it isn't mine."
Anne folded her arms.
"Your aunt made sure of that."
"Maybe."
Aubrey nodded once.
"Or maybe you both did."
That landed.
"You stayed away."
Anne straightened.
"Because Mabel made sure I wasn't welcome."
"You still stayed away."
The words hung in the room.
"You missed birthdays."
"Graduations."
"My promotions."
"My life."
Anne opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"And now," Aubrey continued, "I make one decision you don't agree with..."
"...and suddenly you're here trying to tell me how to run my life."
"I'm trying to protect you."
"No."
Aubrey took a slow step forward.
"You're trying to win."
Anne's eyes narrowed.
"You think this is about the winery?"
"I think this is about Mabel."
Silence.
“I think you’ve been fighting her for so long,” Aubrey said, “you don’t know how to stop.”
Neither woman moved.
Then Aubrey spoke again.
"You stayed away for thirty years. You don't get to walk back into my life now and start calling the shots."
Anne's jaw tightened.
"This isn't your life.”
"It isn't your decision."
Aubrey held her mother's gaze without flinching.
"It's mine."
For a long moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Anne smiled.
"We'll see."
She turned, opened the door, and walked out without another word.
Only after the door clicked shut did Aubrey realize her hands were shaking.
She wasn't sure whether she'd finally stood up to her mother—or declared war.
Mabel’s Office
Thursday Afternoon
Aubrey stood in the middle of Mabel's office, staring at the closed door.
She drew in a slow breath and let it out carefully.
She'd said what she'd wanted to say for years.
She should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt exhausted.
Her gaze drifted to the windows overlooking the vineyards.
Contracts.
Harvest schedules.
Employees.
Customers.
None of them cared that she'd finally drawn a line with her mother.
That felt oddly comforting.
A soft knock sounded at the open office door.
"Boss?"
It was Savannah.
"They're waiting on you in the barrel room."
Aubrey closed her eyes for the briefest second.
"Be right there."
Savannah disappeared.
Aubrey straightened the Mercer proposal on her desk, smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from the front of her blouse, and caught her reflection in the dark computer screen.
She barely recognized the woman staring back.
She squared her shoulders and headed downstairs.