AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mother’s eyes flashed again, probably because of Ginny’s blunt tone. She lifted her chin, not a tremble or tremor in sight. “If you choose him, you’ll be choosing to walk away from Sweet Rose.”
Ginny’s eyes widened and she pulled in a breath. “I can have a husband and run the distillery.”
“Nothimas a husband.”
“Why not?” Ginny asked, desperate to see Cayden through her mother’s eyes. A horrible thought entered her mind. “Did Daddy… He’s not a Winters, is he?”
“No,” Mother said quickly. “But not for lack of trying.”
Ginny watched the agony and betrayal roll across her mother’s face, though Daddy had died years ago. “Him and Julie Chappell?”
“They even dated in high school,” Mother said, her voice pitching up a little. “I won him, of course. Julie is a beautiful woman, but she failed to understand your father on a level I always did.”
Ginny had no idea what that meant. “Mother?”
“You knew your father, dear. You’ll put it together.” She continued into the kitchen and began filling a teapot with water. Ginny didn’t want to think about her father and his many affairs. No other illegitimate children had come forth, but Ginny and Mother had already agreed not to tell the boys if they did.
Harvey had taken Theo Lange’s existence particularly hard, which Ginny could understand, as they were only one month apart in age.
She watched her mother in the kitchen, unable to move. She was so used to siding with her. Mother and Ginny. Ginny and Mother. They’d been two peas in a pod as Ginny learned the whiskey business from her mother.
Daddy had always handled the business side of the distillery, while Mother tended to the fields, the flavors, the people, and the events. She was the public face of Sweet Rose, and she’d built it from a small regional operation to a global powerhouse in the world of whiskey.
“Money,” Ginny said.
“Bingo,” Mother said, not bothering to turn or look at Ginny. “Your father valued money above almost anything. Julie had nothing to offer him.” She turned around then and leaned into the counter behind her. “I, of course, had all of this.” She swept her hand toward the ceiling as if the room she’d converted into a living room and kitchenette was a grand ballroom. The smile she wore almost felt predatory, and Ginny wanted to run back to her house and lock herself in her bedroom until things made sense.
“Cayden is not related to me,” she said slowly. “Daddy didn’t cheat with Julie. Your objection to my relationship to him is because of…because his mother dated Daddy in high school?”
“She kissed him the day before we got married,” Mother said, lifting her teacup to her lips as if she’d just said it would rain tomorrow. She lowered it a moment later, her eyes hard, dark marbles.
Mother did not like Julie Chappell, plain and simple. Mother could hold a grudge for a lifetime, something Ginny had always known and joked about with her brothers. To see it manifest itself as reality, though, was a much harder pill to swallow.
“I do not want that woman anywhere near my life,” Mother said. “She will get nothing from me, certainly not my only daughter. She will not ever be welcome on my property.” She set down her cup with hardly a clink, despite the venom and power in her voice.
“So, Ginny, dear. If you want to be with Cayden Chappell, you will need to walk away from Sweet Rose. From your family. From me.” She folded her arms, a knowing glint in her eyes, as if she knew such a thing was impossible.
Itwasimpossible.
Ginny’s fury roared again, and her fingers curled into fists. “I’ll think about it.” She spun and stalked toward the exit.
“You’ll think about it?” Mother called after her.
Ginny didn’t answer. She had to get out of there before she started sobbing. She made it back to her SUV, everything clenched tight. She peeled out, spitting gravel behind her as she tore away from the mansion she hated.
“I hate this,” she said aloud, pounding her palm against the steering wheel. “I hate whiskey. I hate Sweet Rose. I hate this dress, and this car, and I hate my mother.”
Tears rained down her face and she put her car on the highway leading south from Sweet Rose, and she just drove as the storm inside her swirled and brewed, blew and raged.
When she’d calmed, she only had one thought left: Her mother owned her. She’d been wrapping Ginny in thin bands of barely-there control for almost five decades. She couldn’t break free, even if she wanted to.
She was stuck. Trapped. Subject to her mother’s whims and wishes—at least if she wanted to be part of her family and take over the whiskey business.
Her car started to slow down, and Ginny looked down at the speedometer. “No,” she said, pressing harder on the accelerator.
It was no use—she was out of gas.
With the late hour, there wasn’t anyone on the stretch of Kentucky road, and Ginny was able to easily maneuver to the shoulder and ease onto it as her car continued to decelerate. When she finally came to a stop, it was as if everything in her life now existed on a hinge.
