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“Can’t you see the problem was right here? That you think I need a man in order to run our family business? Can you imagine if I had married Richard? Had children with him? God, I feel sick even saying that out loud.”
“You need to make good decisions if you want to be the next generation of the Zanettis to run this winery. I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed your mother.”
“I don’t need to be married to run the vineyard. And I won’t be on my own. Anthea and Maria still want to be involved and help while balancing time with their families and jobs.” I take a deep, calming breath. “Dad, even since you broke your ankle in the quad bike rollover two years ago, you can’t oversee the vineyard like you used to. We need to talk about how we manage if something goes wrong. If I lose you.” My voice cracked and I hated myself for it.Keep the emotion out of it. This is about business.“Lost both of you.”
The one person who understood this was Tom. And always front of mind was the sudden loss of his dad. He knew the pressure of having to be ready to take over the sheep station. The uncertainty over Ryan’s intentions to run the station. How much his sisters wanted to be involved. And the legal juggling act of how Turner’s Creek would be managed between them, and the changes with any of his siblings getting married.
But most of all, Tom faced the same predicament as me: what if my sisters and I were the generation that lost the winery because we had no plan for succession?
“Richard promised to bring money and export market to our business.” Dad wasn’t finished yet.
“He could’ve done that without needing my hand in marriage, Dad. What is this, the seventeen hundreds? This isn’t Bridgerton set in a vineyard!”
“In Sicily, this is how things were done.”
“Weredone, Dad. In the past.”
“But what about this wombat job? This wombat research?” Angelo shook his head, his cheeks red. “You never told us about this!”
“Because we’d fight and you wouldn’t listen!”
Dad huffed and Mum sighed. Anthea threw up her hands with a grunt. “Why does Rosie need a dick to run my family’s business?”
Angelo scrubbed his face.
“There is no need for that sort of language, Anthea,” our mother chided.
“Frankly, she has a point.” Resigned, I folded my arms and stared at a framed award on the office wall, unable to look at my parents. “You all but offered the vineyard up to Gianni just now. Dicks seem to be very important for running this place rather than industry awards, knowledge and skill.”
Dad pointed at me. “This is about the awards night and Richard and making good choices.”
“Ha! No, it’s not.” I couldn’t help myself, going for the one thing I knew was the heart of this issue. “I’m not good enough because I was born a girl!”
“That is not true, Rosie,” my father said in a low voice.
“Of course it is.”
“I just want you to have what your mother and I have. Family, business.”
“But I’ve heard you say it. You wished I was born a boy. You and Mum were talking the day after you got your cast for your broken ankle.”
“What is this nonsense?” Angelo scoffed again.
Mum, though, looked worried.
“I heard you both. You always wished you had a boy. You have also wished Gianni, the only male cousin, would join our business, and honestly, it’s insulting. Ever since that day, I’ve been working my butt off to prove to you I can run this vineyard. Neither of my sisters want to and neither should they. They’re happy with their jobs and families.” My sister flashed a brief smile and a quick nod in solidarity. “Gianni certainly has no interest or motivation to be on the land, and yet, here I am with a viticulture degree with first class honours, industry recognition, as well as my heart and passion, and you don’t want any of it.”
“But your head is preoccupied with wombat research!”
“I’ve won awards for vintages that I managed. I’ve received honours for my viticulture studies and yet we are having this inane argument about Richard and my ability to run this business.”
“Dad, I think we can do more with our unique environment here in Ballydoon—”
“And then there is Richard. He called today. Said you humiliated him on stage.”
“He what?” I stood abruptly. “Did you talk to him?”
“No, I hung up on him.”
