Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“That is a fancy way of saying you lived above your means.”
“Perhaps. Yes.” Oh boy, keeping her irritation at bay was going to be even harder than she thought. Corinne had come locked and loaded for this conversation. “The excess is necessary, however. Parties and designer clothing and vacations and expensive rounds of golf with clients. Morrison and I had an apartment on Park Avenue. Not to mention, we’d put down a nonrefundable deposit on our wedding venue.”
That last part burned. Of course it did.
She’d been offloaded by a man who’d claimed to love her.
But for some reason, Morrison’s face didn’t materialize. No, instead she saw August. Wondered what he would say about a six-figure deposit on Tribeca Rooftop. He would look so out of place among the wedding guests. He’d probably show up in jeans, a ballcap, and that faded gray navy T-shirt. He would crush her ex in an arm-wrestling match, too. Why did that make her feel better enough to continue?
“In short, yes, I do have some money. If I was simply going back to New York, I could afford to find an apartment and live comfortably for a few months. But that is not what I want to do.” The kick of adrenaline in her bloodstream felt good. It had been a long time. Or maybe while getting lit to mourn the loss of everything she’d worked for, she’d accidentally numbed her ambition, too. Right now, in this moment, she had it back. She was the woman who used to look down at rows of analysts from her glass office and demand they eat their competition’s balls for breakfast. “I want to return better than ever. I want my former colleagues to realize they made a mistake . . .”
“You want to rub it in their faces,” Corinne supplied.
“Maybe a little,” Natalie admitted. “I might have made one huge mistake, but I know if Morrison Talbot the Third had made that bad call instead of me, excuses would have been made. He probably would have been given a promotion for being a risk-taker. They met in secret and voted to oust me. My partners. My fiancé.” She closed her eyes briefly to beat back the memory of her shock. Betrayal. “If you were me, Mother, you would want a shot to go back and prove yourself.”
Corinne stared at her for several beats. “Perhaps I would.”
Natalie released a breath.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have the money to loan you,” Corinne continued, her face deepening ever so slightly with color. “As you are aware, the vineyard has been declining in profitability. With your brother’s unexpected help, we’re turning it around, but it could be years before we’re back in the black. All I have is this house, Natalie.”
“My trust fund,” Natalie said firmly, forcing it out into the open. “I’m asking for my trust fund to be released.”
“My, times have changed,” Corinne said with a laugh. “When you graduated from Cornell, what was it that you said at your postceremony dinner? You would never take a dime from us as long as you lived?”
“I’m thirty years old now. Please don’t throw something in my face that I said when I was twenty-two.”
Corinne sighed and refolded her hands in her lap. “You are well aware of the terms of your trust fund, Natalie. Your father might be racing cars in Italy and parading around with women half his age like a fool, but he set forth the language of the trust and as far as the bank is concerned, he’s still in control.”
Natalie lunged to her feet. “The language in that contract is archaic. How can it even be legal in this day and age? There has to be something you can do.”
Her mother let a breath seep out. “Naturally, I agree with you. But your father would have to sign off on the change.”
“I am not going groveling to that man. Not after he just blew us off and pretends like we don’t exist. Not when he left you to do damage control after the fire four years ago.”
Corinne’s attention shot to the vineyard, which was lightening in the path of the sun. “I wasn’t aware you cared.”
“Of course I care. You asked me to leave.”
“Oh please. You couldn’t have made it more clear you wanted to get back to the almighty rat race of New York,” her mother scoffed.
They obviously remembered that period after the fire very differently. Getting into the semantics of the last time she’d been in St. Helena wouldn’t do her cause any good now. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”
Corinne appeared poised to argue, but visibly changed course. “My hands are tied, Natalie. The terms of the trust are set in stone. The recipient must be gainfully employed and married for the money to be released. I realize that sounds like something out of Regency England, not modern-day California, but your father is old-school Italian. His parents’ marriage was arranged. It’s glamorous to him. It’s tradition.”