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“You know this is for the best, Dad,” I calmed my tone. “As a matter of fact, it’s overdue.”
He closed the paper, dropped it on his lap, and whisked his glasses off to massage his eyes. “Mia…” I waited. “…As much as I know you’re primed for the job, the winery is at a crucial juncture right now, and more than anything, it needs to be stable. I have some important contracts coming in, and I cannot afford to let them slip by.”
“You mean the Texas steak contract?” I asked, his brows shot up. “I know, Dad; I met with them yesterday.”
“Mia—” his tone dropped to warning. “—You should have let Jackson handle it.”
I was a bit stung that Dad was wary of me doing something so simple, but maybe this would be what it might take to convince him I was ready for the job. “I didn’t stop Jackson from doing his job,” I said. “I just made sure I was present. Look, Dad, let me prove it to you. Let me win this contract so you can see I am up to par to take over. This is our family, our legacy, and I want to keep it this way. I don’t want to give it to our cousins or sell it to strangers. Give me this chance.”
His lips pressed, and I could see him considering it. Finally, he said, “Get this deal, and we’ll talk, but if you don’t, the management goes to Westley, my brother's youngest son.”
The knot in my chest eased a little, but I still had one more thing to ask him. “Dad, I hate to ask you this, but—” I did a quick calculation in my head. Ethan was thirty-one, so, with his memory at seven, this happened twenty-four years ago. “—twenty-four years ago… did you really ban Orville Vega from using the same delivery trucks as we did?”
His face pinched tight, and his fist clenched the paper firmly enough to rip it in half. He didn’t need to say that he had done precisely what Ethan had told me; his reaction was enough.
“Who told you—” he paused, then his face soured. “Thatboy! Mia, stay out of it.”
“But did you do it?”
“Yes,” he said stonily.
“Why?” I asked.
“I did it because—” Dad paused. “—Back then, it was only important that I trumped the insolent Vega’s.”
Insolent? That was a very decisive word.
What did he mean by that? And what was he not telling me?
“Maybe you could try to apologize now?” I offered.
“What happened back then is none of your concern, Mia,” Dad replied. “And what I did was rightfully deserved.”
“I disagree. It is my concern, and Ethan hasn’t forgotten, and it has made you the devil incarnate in his eyes,” I told him directly. “And before you ask why I’m even talking to him, there is a joint problem in our fields and his orchard that we’re collaborating to solve. Mealybugs have set in, and we’re working to exterminate them. And no, they hadn’t settled in his orchard and moved to our vines. It’s because of the recent rains and windstorms.”
He grunted. “Just make sure he won’t take you for a ride on the shared costs.”
I knew our families had a century—or possiblycenturies—old rivalry, but this felt over the top, not just different or odd, but very personal. “Dad—” I frowned. “—what are you not telling me? Why all this hatred?”
“Animosity.” He scoffed and then returned to the paper. “There’s nothing different from what has always happened between our families. Our family founded this town, yet they keep insisting they were the ones,” Dad said, deliberately shifting from the first issue. “If that’s not insolent, I don’t know what is.”
That…that was new. I hadn’t heard of that one before.
I was sure if I asked Ethan, he would have a different version.
I don’t know if this is the right word, but… this is a clusterfuck.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I replied. “Well, I’ll leave you to…reading. The nurse the hospital and mom have coordinated with should be along shortly.”
I left him grumbling about being babysat while I went to my room, sat on my bed, and opened my laptop, checking if there were any emails from Dalston or the other PA. There was nothing—but a part of me had expected that.
Sitting back on the headboard, I tipped my head back and sighed. I didn’t like this riff with Ethan, and I didn’t know why my dad was so set on making sure this rivalry entered the Guinness World Records. It was time this silly feud ended, so what if we made wine while they made mead? I don’t see either of our families griping about the Clarkston’s hard apple cider.
I needed to apologize to Ethan.
“If he will listen to me at all, that is.” I sighed, then shifted the laptop away so I could reach for my phone. I meant to text him, and then I realized, I don’t have his number. God, this was so messed up.
Someone had to make peace, and seeing as Dad wasn’t going to do it, it was my job. But how do I make peace with my enemy without contacting him? I was sure he wouldn’t like it if I showed up at his house unannounced again.
