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“Its…” I went to look at it. “…strange. It looks like something from the 1800’s.”
“Well, your family settled here around those years,” Jackson replied.
I touched the wood, and it seemed firm enough, and when I tried to pry the cover-up, it stayed firmly locked. This was a mystery. I doubted Dad knew about this. “Is there a name on it or something?”
Circling the trunk, I tried to spot any carving or etching on it but didn’t find much, but when I crouched, I saw V.L.V in the bottom panel, and I wondered what it meant. A name? Roman numerals, maybe?
“Where did the guys find this?” I asked.
“At the east field, right at the fence line leading to the Vega lands,” Jackson replied. “But firmly inside our lands.”
“I see,” I replied. “It looks like we’ll need a key to see what’s inside. Either that or get someone to pick the lock, but I doubt any locksmith around here is learned in eighteenth or nineteenth-century locks.”
“Or we could get a museum person out here to look at it,” Jackson offered. “I am sure they must have seen a few of these before.”
“I can work with that,” I replied while peering at the box.
Oddly, I felt as if I'd seen it before, but I couldn’t place where but that still didn’t stop the niggling in the back of my mind. Gently, I reached out and lifted it; it was not heavy, and I didn’t feel like there were any rocks or books inside. With a soft shake, I heard… was that paper? It sounded like it.
Huh. Doubly strange.
“I’ll check it out myself, even if I have to go to Denver to get it done,” I replied, then turned to him. “In the meantime, have you heard anything from the guys in Texas?”
“Sadly, not yet,” he shook his head.
“Don’t worry about that,” I replied, “I’ll take care of that too. You can go back to your work, Jackson, while I deal with this.”
He nodded and ducked out of the room, and I went to Dad’s desk, took out Mr. Dalston’s card, and called him. I need to know if they were taking us up on their offer. As I waited, I did a replay of our meeting—while it could have been better, it hadn’t been that bad.
It picked up…but then.
“You’ve reached Trevor Dalston, personal assistant to Mister Hunter Portman. I am away from the phone, but please leave a detailed message with your phone number or email and permissible contact hours, and I shall get back to you. Thank you.”
I internalized a groan. With an even tone, I said, “This is Mia Sullivan calling from Sullivan Winery. I am just calling to see if there has been any development regarding our contract…” I gave him the number for the winery, my number, and email, then signed off.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I stared at the office phone. This was my one chance to prove to Dad that I could run the winery, and if I didn’t get this deal, Dad would probably hand the helm over to Jackson.
As much as I admired Jackson…this was my heritage, my obligation, and my family's pride. We all knew that Ryan had no interest in running the winery, well, from the administrative point of view. He could breed a new grape breed or give us some organic, non-destructive pesticide for the vines, but his head was in Petri dishes and bacteria, not performance reports nor quality control.
My whole future rested on this deal, and it’s not like I could go back to Dad and make a stipulation. This was it—one or nothing.
Then, on top of that worry was this…thingwith Ethan.
I didn’t know what to call it. Hell, I didn’t know there was a word for whatever we were doing. What were they calling stuff like this online again? A Situationship? Enemies with benefits? A hook-up?
“Fuck my life,” I sighed.
But…one problem at a time. Right now, I needed to get out and find out more about this trunk. Ethan…. Ehtan could wait.
ChapterThirteen
Mia
Shaking my head, I looked at the chest, sitting so innocently on the table, and I wondered what was inside. Did Dad or Mom know about this? Did they possibly have the key or know where to get it? I’d hate to force the chest open and ruin it. Maybe there was some clue as to what it was in our family’s archives.
Dad had set up a couple of safe deposit boxes at the bank and even donated a few things to the local town hall history display so the tourists could get a greater feel of where our family had started. I could begin my search there.
Or I could ask Dad about it.
