I wanted to remind him Iwasa stranger. That he shouldn’t act like I was a friend, just like that, but I couldn’t throw that gift back in his face, either. Instead, I said, “Mimsy, tell Arthur thank you.”
From my shoulders, she responded to my command with her sweetest little meow.
Arthur laughed, and the tiredness on his face melted momentarily. “You’re welcome, Mimsy. Shorty, Eb, come back here and let Shane go.”
A furry weight came off my feet, a heavy tail whacked my thigh on the way past. Without looking back, I snuck me and Mimsy out the door. I didn’t let anyone loose that wasn’t supposed to be. The door latched with a click behind me.
But as we reached the street sign on the corner, I stopped, dug the right page of the map out of my pocket and tracked down where we were. Then, using a dirty bit of twig from the ground, I marked the location of Arthur’s house. I might not get to come back here again. But maybe I would.
CHAPTER4
THEO
From the otherend of the polished table, Manuel Gutierrez kept his gaze fixed on me as if I might vanish if he blinked. On the long side, Wynn Cavannah straightened a pile of papers and turned to me. “Are you quite sure this is what you want to do with your inheritance? Or at least this part of it?”
“Positive,” I told the lawyer. “Mr. Gutierrez has been keeping Lafontaine Wines and our vineyard and winery afloat the last two years, while my father tried to overturn my grandmother’s will. He has far more stake and interest in the vineyard than I ever had. He deserves to own it.”
“It’s a huge gift.” Wynn’s tone was carefully nonjudgemental.
“And he’ll have to decide how to pay the taxes on that gift,” I pointed out. I turned to Manuel. “Have you decided whether to let SkyWaters Vineyards buy in?” They’d made several offers in the last decade, ever since they lost some of their grape-growing acreage. Our vines were long-established and productive, thanks to Manuel and his team. My grandparents liked to claim all the credit, but I knew who worked long hours implementing the orders they laid down, and who, in Grand-père’s later years, had done more and more of the planning as well.
Manuel cleared his throat, still looking shell-shocked. “I… um, no, sir. Not yet. I need to run the numbers and give it some thought.”
I nodded. “You do that. And Manuel, I’m not ‘sir.’”
“Yes, all right, um, Thibault.”
“Or Theo. I prefer that.” I didn’t give a sign how my true first name in his familiar voice made me cringe.
“Theo. I can’t thank you enough. I don’t understand. I never expected…” There was actual pain in his tone when he asked, “Why?”
I didn’t owe him any explanation. I was gifting him millions of dollars’ worth of California real estate and a functioning vineyard and winery. But I met his dark gaze down the length of that table. “Can you understand if I say I never want to set foot on that land again?”
Something flickered in his eyes. He’d been there through all my childhood years, working the land first as a young laborer and later rising through the ranks to manage the production side. But never as my grandparents’ equal. He had his own experiences with the sharp edge of Grand-père’s tongue. Manuel had been kind when he noticed me, the one kind voice left after my parents were gone, but our paths hadn’t crossed often. He shook his head slowly. “I can believe you don’t love the place and don’t want to keep it. But you could sell the land and business for a lot of money.”
I let a dark smile cross my face, imagining Grand-père watching this moment with impotent rage. Manuel sat back in his chair, eyeing me. I told him, “I prefer to give away everything they worked for, for free, to someone who deserved far more than he ever got from them.” Turning to Wynn, I reached for the pile of papers. “Where do I sign?”
Leaving the office half an hour later, my shoulders felt lighter. I’d included my grandparents’ house in Manuel’s gift. If he didn’t want to partner up with SkyWaters, he could sell the mansion to raise cash. Or he and his wife and kids might live in it. I liked the idea of a middle-class Hispanic family making a home out of the showplace where my grandparents insisted only French could be spoken, to keep ouraristocratic heritagealive. Maybe the kids would slide down the precious banister— I cut off that thought and stepped out into the sun.
The brightness made my eyes water. I rubbed them as I clicked the remote for my Tesla. One major burden handed over to someone who’d consider it a blessing. One more to go. Wynn had asked if I wanted to pass the wine-tasting room along to Manuel, too, back when I started having him run the paperwork, but I hadn’t said yes. I didn’t ever want to see people sitting in that front room, sipping and chatting, an echo of all the bad years. I’d find something else to do with it. Something other than burning the building down.
I might have to take another look, get a feel for what the damned place might be good for.
Back at my rental house, I dug through my clothes, looking for something scruffy to wear to the tasting room. Mostly because it was dusty after standing for so long unused. Not because that odd guy with the cheekbones and the cat had thought I was homeless, like him.
Although I didn’t want to scare him off.
Like that time when I found a wild fox denning up on the hill above the Cabernet block. Grand-mère might’ve seen him as a threat to the chickens that laid her farm-fresh eggs, but I saw his beauty and wildness and envied him so much I couldn’t breathe. I’d watched that fox in stolen moments for a month, till he decided to move on.
I hadn’t brought my roughest working clothes with me on this trip. Hadn’t brought my pickup either, although truthfully, it wasn’t much cheaper than the Tesla. I’d just park down the block. I found a pair of older jeans with some fray on the hems and a boring T-shirt, adding a sweatshirt instead of my leather jacket. Sneakers were sneakers. I transferred my wallet and keys to my pockets and headed out.
Walking the two blocks back to the venue from where I parked, I had time to ask myself what the hell I was doing. And to not answer myself. At the side door, I hesitated, tempted to knock first and not barge in on cat-guy.
Don’t be ridiculous. You own the damned place.
That truth still felt weird in my head, but I turned the door handle firmly. It was unlocked.
I flipped the light switch automatically with no visible effect. Of course not, since I hadn’t arranged for the power to come on. Probably shouldn’t till I had the place inspected. The dim interior seemed ominous, although it was safer now than it ever had been with the lights on. I considered heading up the stairs to the second floor where I could see the sun shining in. Instead, the front room pulled me down the hall, through the kitchen, and back into the echoing, mirrored space.
