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‘Some father!’ Zap scoffed. ‘What kind of man dumps all his responsibilities on his kids so he can spend his life jaunting around the world? We were twelve when Grandfather sent us to boarding school! Stevie was only ten and poor Dylan was eight! At least us boys got to stick together. Poor Stevie had no one to look out for her.’
Monty’s lips all but disappeared into a thin line. ‘You know what my father was like. It was impossible for me to stay.’
‘But not impossible for you to leave us with him and Grandmama! Not impossible for you to leave Ziggy to step into your shoes and be the heir that Grandfather demanded.’
‘Leave it, Zap.’ Ziggy stopped pacing and placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder. ‘It’s not worth it.’
‘I’m still the head of this family,’ Monty shouted, slamming a fist on the table. ‘And I don’t remember you showing any concern for Dylan when you snatched his girlfriend out from under his nose!’
Rowena gasped and began to sob again. ‘You hateful old man!’ Zap lunged forward, and only Ziggy’s restraining hand on his shoulder forced him back in his chair. He bent his head low and began whispering urgently in Zap’s ear.
Rhys had no idea what was going on but he’d had about enough of this. ‘What the hell is going on?’
An ugly, sly grin twisted his grandfather’s lips. ‘Didn’t they tell you why you never see your uncle Dylan? Your mother was the love of his life and he brought her home to tell us they were getting married and the next thing we know your father is caught in flagrante with her.’
‘Shut up, Monty, or I swear to God?—’
‘Leave it, Zap.’ Ziggy cut his twin off. ‘Take Rowena upstairs and leave this to me.’
When his parents stood up, Rhys rounded the table to hug them. ‘What’s going on, Dad? What’s he talking about?’
He’d never seen his father look so distraught, but all he did was shake his head and lean over to give Rhys a kiss on the cheek. ‘Not now, son.’ Feeling helpless, Rhys watched the pair of them leave the kitchen.
He sank down in the seat his father had vacated and cast a pleading look around the room. ‘Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?’
‘I want to sell the estate,’ Monty said. ‘I’ve got the opportunity to buy a vineyard in Chile and I need the money. I’ve had a fantastic offer and there’d be more than enough money for us all to share. I’m not just doing this for myself, I’m doing it for all of us.’
‘This is our home, Monty.’ Ziggy sat next to Rhys, sounding as weary as he looked. ‘What about everything we’ve put into the estate over the years? Over the generations. Does our family’s future, never mind its history, really mean so little to you?’
‘Fu—’ Rhys remembered at the last moment that his grandmother was present. ‘Forget that,’ he amended hastily. ‘Juniper Meadows is ours and I won’t let you take it from us.’
His grandfather glowered at him. ‘You can’t stop me, and besides I thought you’d all be as glad to see the back of the place as much as I am. Why else would you be whining on about the great burden I’ve placed on you all?’
There was something else Rhys wanted to know. ‘So who’s this dream benefactor that’s going to pay you enough that we’ll all be set for life? It all sounds a bit too bloody good to be true.’
His grandfather shook his head. ‘No, no, it’s a genuine offer. We’ve been negotiating for weeks and I’ve checked him out. He’s a legitimate businessman, self-made millionaire, in fact, and he’s got a great vision for the estate. He says you’re all too sentimental about it and aren’t exploiting the site to its full advantage. He’s had a member of his staff working on a feasibility study so he knows what he’s talking about.’
A feasibility study? And how did whoever it was claim to know so much about them? ‘Who says?’ Rhys demanded.
‘His name’s Simon Willoughby. You can look him up for yourself.’
‘Simon Willoughby?’ Hope exclaimed. ‘You can’t be serious!’
‘Ah, you’ve heard of him, then?’ Their grandfather smiled in satisfaction. ‘Very impressive man. Worked his way to the top from very humble beginnings. Quite inspiring work ethic.’ Which was a bit bloody rich from a man who’d never done a day’s work in his life.
‘Heard of him? The bastard tried to sue us last year!’ Rhys turned to his cousin. ‘What the hell is he playing at?’
Hope rose. ‘I’ve no idea, but I’m going to find out. I’ll call Cam and see if he can track down Scott to see if he knows anything about this.’ She opened the kitchen door and walked out into the yard.
‘Enough, Monty.’ They all turned and looked at Alice Travers, who was still sitting calmly at the other end of the table.
‘But, Alice. This is our dream, spending our golden years in the sunshine, sipping wine made with our own grapes…’
‘No, Monty. It’s not a dream, it’s a fantasy. Just like when you were going to buy that taverna on Mykonos twenty years ago, and that time you were hell-bent on becoming a master glassblower after one summer in Venice. I’ve spent the last fifty years waiting for you to settle on something – anything! But you never will. As soon as you’re faced with the reality of how much work it will take, you’ll find another pipe dream to chase.’
Looking completely bewildered, Monty seemed to shrink in his seat. He’d always cut an imposing figure in Rhys’s life, with a personality as big as his tall frame, but for the first time he looked every one of his seventy-five years. ‘But you love our life, Alice. Never be tied down, that’s what we agreed when we got married!’
Alice gave him a sad smile. ‘I loved it once because I was silly and a little selfish too and I didn’t want to end up mummified by this place the way your mother was. I knew that staying here would kill you and that’s the only reason I agreed to leave in the first place. I comforted myself with the thought that the children at least had each other to rely on, but you had no one else, only me. I realise now what a mistake it was to indulge you. I kept hoping you’d grow up, but you’re still that selfish, spoiled boy I foolishly fell in love with all those years ago. Because of you, I’ve missed my children and my grandchildren growing up. Well, no more.’
