Chapter 8 #2
“So they saddled me with that life? How is that fair?” she asked, her voice quiet and reverent as she sought to understand, wanting a full picture before making any decisions as to what to do with the land.
“Was it the fact that Mom didn’t want to go into the family business that made her leave Michigan?
Or was there more? I remember seeing her parents at the funeral, but before that, I don’t really remember them aside from the occasional birthday card or Christmas gift. ”
Her dad inhaled deeply, setting his empty mug aside. “They just didn’t get along. Never quite saw eye to eye on things. You know how your mom was—fiercely independent, always wanting to do things her way.”
Max smiled as she remembered all the little particular ways her mom had been about things, like the precise way the dishwasher needed to be loaded, or how the angle of the vacuum stripes on the carpet needed to be a perfect forty-five degrees, and how she only asked for help if it was absolutely necessary.
They were elements Max had carried forward into her own adult life, proud of the ways she mirrored her mother—the strongest woman she had ever known.
“What do you think I should do about the land?” she finally asked with a twinge of hope in her voice.
Hope that her dad could help her figure out the problem that had been weighing on her for years.
“The trust keeping the vineyard running dissolves at the end of next year. I have developers hounding me, trying to purchase it for luxury condos, and I have other landowners nearby reaching out to me, begging me not to sell. I don’t have the money to sustain the vineyard myself—I’ve barely been able to scrape together enough to afford a year of the taxes.
Selling feels like the most straightforward answer, the easiest solution…
But I don’t know, Dad. There’s something about it that keeps telling me to hold off. What do you think I should do?”
A long moment of quiet stretched between them as Max waited for her dad to say something—anything—that might shed some light on a solution to her problem. But that was too optimistic.
With a heavy sigh, her dad spoke. “It’s your land, Max. Only you can make that decision.”
Max’s shoulders dropped in disappointment at his non-answer. “Is that the Admiral’s answer? Or my dad’s answer?” she pushed back, wanting so badly for him to understand what she really needed.
“Is there a difference?”
She studied him for a long moment, the way he was. The wrinkles that collected in the corners of his eyes, the salt and pepper streaking the dark hair they shared. Physically, they were so alike; emotionally, they were more distant, and that saddened her more than she knew how to let him know.
“I guess not,” Max said quietly, raising her mug to her lips, draining the last of the hot chocolate as the eagle across the river finished its meal, spreading its wings, taking flight.
* * *
Max let out a frustrated groan as she slammed her laptop shut harder than was probably warranted, but the damn meeting—the one scheduled for the second Friday in January, aka tomorrow, the one with Willis Windsor—had been pushed.
Again. She set her computer aside, lamenting the fact that she had been stressed all week for nothing.
And to top it all off, she had even gone the additional step to find someone to cover her shift at the winery today, anticipating that she could use the extra time to polish off her talking points.
And with one swift email, it became all for nothing.
She inhaled a long, deep, calming breath, reminding herself that this would all be worth it.
Willis Windsor was a busy man; of course it would be challenging to align their calendars, but he had given her his word that they would talk about options.
She had put in the work and had the data to prove that her trial year as the country club wine expert had indeed been a boost to business.
She slouched into the vintage sofa she had rescued from the side of the road years ago, fingers drumming against her thigh as she tried to decide what she wanted to do with her day now that it was suddenly wide open.
Dani popped into her head first—they were long overdue for some one-on-one time—but being the middle of the week, she was most likely tied up seeing her dental patients.
Drew and Jack were also out because of work, and Lynn spent Wednesdays volunteering at the children’s hospital in Hartford, so she was a no too.
“A run it is,” she grumbled, getting to her feet and making her way through the kitchen to her bedroom.
Moving into her closet, Max sorted through a stack of leggings—some adorned with subtle patterns, but all black—as she searched for her favorite pair.
Years of running cross-country in several different climate regions of the United States had taught her the art of layering, and after a glance at her weather app and noting the balmy 22-degree temperature, she grabbed a bright pink fleece-lined, moisture-wicking headband.
She laced her sneakers and took her sweet time filling her water bottle, avoiding the inevitable dreaded first step into the cold. But she braced herself, knowing the post-run endorphin rush would be amazing.
Cold air hit her face as she opened the door, sending a prickling sensation across her cheeks.
Her phone rang from the belt slung over her hips that held her water bottles.
She reached for it, grinning as she read Annie’s name.
Max stepped back into the warmth of her kitchen, thankful for the delay.
“Annie, hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “What’s up?”
“Hi!” Annie’s bubbly voice filled her ear as Max sank onto one of the stools around her kitchen island, setting her running gloves beside her.
“I’m shooting my shot, and Jack may or may not have told me you might be free today, but do you want to come antiquing with me? There’s a cool place a few towns over.”
It took Max a moment to register the noise in the background of Annie’s call—the rumbling of traffic and slight persistent static. “Are you already in your car?” she asked, her smile pulling tight, the same way it had at the Christmas party.
“I might be,” Annie responded, and Max was certain she could hear Annie’s own perfect smile.
“You’re in luck. I do happen to be free.” She kicked off her shoes, leaving them under the stool as she moved quickly into her bedroom.
“Great. I’m going to stop and grab coffee and then I’ll head your way. What’s your order? Also, please send me your address.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Max teased gently, enjoying the way Annie’s Type A, confident personality had started slipping into their conversations more and more over the past few weeks.
“I’m not a coffee drinker. Tea only for me.
I like everything, so surprise me. Athleisure okay for today?
” she asked, tucking her phone against her shoulder as she reached for her favorite black cropped puffer coat.
“Whatever you feel comfy in is perfect. And I’m honored to meet another non-coffee drinker.
I always say going to get coffee because going to get tea sounds weird and then you have to explain to people that you don’t actually drink coffee, which they usually find odd and it’s this whole ordeal…
kind of like this.” Annie laughed breezily at herself.
That was another thing Max had noticed about her as they had gotten to know each other.
For as serious as Annie could be, she wasn’t someone who took herself too seriously.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” she said. “I’m excited to see what you get me. I’ll text you my address. See you soon.”
“Bye!”
The call ended, and Max stood there for a moment, excitement bubbling inside of her as she tried to remember the last time someone had had that effect on her.
Fifteen minutes later, Max was waving to Annie as she slowed her car to a stop to the end of the driveway in a sleek black sedan. She slid into the front seat and was greeted with a broad smile and an outstretched hand.
“For you.” Annie beamed, handing her a to-go cup, watching her intently.
“Thanks.” Max inhaled deeply, letting the warmth of the aromatic steam fill her nostrils. “Jasmine,” she said, stating it as a fact, taking another sniff. “And vanilla? And definitely some type of nut, so I’m going to guess almond milk.”
“You’re good. But I kind of figured you’d be, you know, with all the wine knowledge and whatnot. Feels like a transferable skill.”
Max smiled, sipping from the cup as she fastened her seatbelt, the liquid warming her from the inside out. “Where to?’ She looked at Annie, catching the way the light made her pupils contract.
Annie’s smile was wide and toothy as she responded. “Oh, a little place I know,” she said, putting the car in drive as they headed out.
After thirty-five minutes, they arrived at the parking lot of an old red sawmill situated on the bank of a creek. The building, long since operational for its intended use, had apparently been refurbished as an antique mall according to the sign hanging off the side.
“How on earth did you find this place?” Max asked, following Annie’s perky strawberry blond ponytail into the building, thankful to be out of the cold.
“I used to drive around a lot when I was a teenager. I liked the alone time.” She smiled softly, pausing for a moment. “I always like to walk the perimeter first, then the inner aisles, but I’m open to changing that up.”
“Perimeter first works for me,” Max answered, appreciating how cute Annie’s pragmatic and systematic approach to her shopping experience was.