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“Yes. Who’s suing us? Why are we buying from Hayden Lanes?” I ask quietly. Like I’m trying not to frighten a squirrel perched an inch from a nut I’m holding.
If Dad is buying grapes from another vineyard, there must be a reason. Maybe he got confused, or someone convinced him to gamble. Maybe I can fix this. I feel my brother’s hand at my back, urging me to keep going.
“I did what I had to do,” he repeats. “It was what I had to do to save us.” He starts coughing as soon as he says it, and Betsy rushes over with a glass of water. My father drinks it, wipes his face, and lifts his hand to wave at me again.
The blank stare has returned to his eyes, but I have to take one more stab at getting information. “Dad, can you just—”
He lurches back on the settee like I’ve just punched him. “Who said you could come in here?”
“Dad…”
“Who is this?” he asks his nurse.
I feel Dash step closer to me. He whispers, “We should go. He’ll only get more agitated.”
But I can’t go, not when I’m finally close to a piece of information that might make sense of why we’re bleeding money.
“I’m Jackson. Your son.”
My dad starts shaking his head. He looks afraid and lost. I don’t want to stress him, but I need his help. Just for another minute. It’s impossible for me to give in and walk away when I’m this close.
He plucks the orchid from the vase, plucks off a petal and bites into it.
I look at Betsy, who shakes her head. “They’re safe to eat. It’s okay. But you’re probably not going to get him back.”
I know she’s right, but I feel defeated coming away with a shred of information only to be confounded by something else.
“That was impressive, actually, that he focused as long as he did,” the nurse says quietly before turning her full attention to my dad. I watch her move the orchid plant out of reach and push his water glass closer to his hand. He lifts it and drinks. Then he opens his newspaper and pretends to read.
“What was that about?” Dash asks as we descend the stairs. I feel sucker punched. Each time I get another dribble of information, it digs me deeper into a hole I can’t get out of, and the hole just turned into a gaping chasm today.
“Nothing. He’s not making sense,” I tell Dash, unwilling to let him into my problems. I’ll solve them somehow and protect the business from whatever Dad has done.
Dash casts a suspicious look. “Dude, you can tell me. Maybe I can help.”
“You can’t. But it’s all good. Don’t worry.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, sure, okay. Tell you what—I’ll ask you again in a week. That gives you a week to decide whether you want to keep lying to me or let me try to help.”
“It’s a financial issue. I’ll handle it.”
“Sounds like something bigger. It’s okay to ask for help, you know.” He’s walking faster now, and I tell myself that’s why my pulse has kicked up a notch. Apparently, I’m lying to myself about shit now too. “I’m giving you a week.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
One week. A new deadline for figuring out why Dad spent half a million dollars on grapes we shouldn’t need. Or on paying off lawsuits he won’t explain. Not nearly enough time, but it’s what I have.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Ruby
“Can I please stay up late? Please!” Fiona isn’t subtle. When she wraps her arms around Jackson’s leg and presses the side of her face to his stomach, she knows he’s putty in her hands.
“Fine. But you have to do whatever Ruby says. She’s the boss, and when she tells you it’s time for bed, no arguing.”
It’s the first time Jackson has asked me to stay late, but since it’s Friday night and I have tomorrow off from working in the tasting room, I don’t mind. I became so accustomed to slugging down an espresso before hitting the road each evening that I still do it even now that I live on the property.
I’m addicted. And not just to the caffeine.
