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“I’d expect nothing less,” my dad says.
“It started as a blackout, and we were both stunned when we woke up on Wednesday morning with rings on our fingers. But the more time I spend with your daughter, the more I can see this lasting longer than the year I initially agreed to.”
My chest tightens at his words, and a soft gasp falls from my lips as I rush into his arms. “I feel the same way.”
My dad nods. “Were there feelings between the two of you prior to this?”
“Not that we acted on,” Spencer says carefully.
My dad stops and looks between the two of us. He sighs. “I’m glad it’s more than just a drunken mistake, but there are things we need to discuss. I mentioned a prenup on the phone Saturday to you. Any chance you magically found one that you wrote when you were blacked out?”
We both shake our heads.
“My lawyer, Glen Farnsworth, drafted up a postnup. It’s very simple but protects both your assets. It’s in my office if you’re both willing to sign it,” he says.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the vineyard is safe.” Spencer grabs my hand and links his fingers through mine. “And for the record, that includes making sure Grace is the one standing at the end of whatever tests Maggie crafts for us.”
My dad presses his lips together and shakes his head a little as if he doesn’t really believe what he’s hearing. “Okay, then.”
We change our direction to walk over toward my dad’s office to sign off on the postnup.
And as I sign my name with a flourish, I can’t help but think there’s a better chance than ever that we’ll never have to execute it.
Amelia, however, has other plans.
Starting later in the afternoon, after I’ve caught up with Heidi via Zoom and I head into the tasting room and see Amelia talking to customers.
She’s never in the tasting room, but she’s clearly trying to throw her all into this new challenge as if history means nothing to any of us. Nana’s there, too, and they’re all laughing together. Drew is obviously back to work, and Spencer stayed with my dad to talk about some of the financials and best practices.
While Drew is essential to this vineyard as the head of the cellar workers, it’s not like he’s irreplaceable. Does he have a big role scheduling tasks and monitoring our product development? Of course he does. But could someone else be trained to take care of those tasks just as well as he does? Absolutely.
By the same token, I suppose that Spencer is also replaceable, especially considering he isn’t actually employed here. Anyone can analyze the business to see what’s working successfully and what can be changed, though it's hard to find trustworthy people invested in the winery who can take care of those tasks.
And me? I'd like to think I'm not replaceable, but I was just gone for nearly an entire week, and everybody seems to get by just fine without me.
As for my sister, well, I was essentially doing her job before she quit teaching to come work here. But since she's been here, I've been given other responsibilities, ones that I deem more important than the ones that she's taking care of.
I'm sure she'd have words to say about that.
So what it comes down to is that all of us are replaceable, but which one of us is most likely to give this place the sort of future it deserves?
I want it to be me because I love this place. It's my childhood, which Amelia could also say, but this place is my heart and soul. I can't help but constantly remember that she left. She went off to be a teacher, and when that didn't work out, she came back, begging for a position here. It’s something that has always rubbed me the wrong way because one of us always knew our future was here while the other of us chose to walk away and only returned when it benefited her.
Nana has to see that I'm the right choice.
To Amelia, it’s only about money and what she could get out of it.
To me…it’s a love of the product and the land and pride in what we create literally from the ground up.
Maybe Nana sees something I'm not seeing. Maybe there's some promise she made to Pop Pop that I don't know about.
“I was hoping for something a little sweeter,” the customer Amelia is talking to says. Amelia looks helplessly at Nana, and this is where I step in.
“Our pinot grigio is pretty dry,” I say. “How about this one?” I pour a glass of our moscato, one of our most popular sweet wines.
She takes a sip, and her brows rise—the signal that I’m about to close a sale. “Oh my word, that’s delicious.”
I pour one for the man with her, too, and he also likes it.
