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)
“It’s sexist.”
“Normally I would agree, but the terms of Julian’s trust are the same. When the contract was set forth, your father had some grand vision in his mind. You and Julian with your flourishing families taking over the winery. Grandchildren everywhere. Success.” She made an absent gesture. “When you both left without any intention of joining the family business, it broke something inside of him. The fire was the final straw. I’m not making excuses for him, I’m just trying to give you a different perspective.”
Natalie lowered herself back down to the couch and implored her mother with a look. “Please, there has to be something we can do. I can’t stay here forever.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry that staying in your family home feels like exile.”
“You try waking up every morning to the sound of Julian and Hallie trying and failing to stifle their sex noises down the hall.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Yes. They call for the son of God, too, sometimes when they think I’m not home.”
With a withering eye roll, Corinne pushed to her feet and strode to the front window. “You would think your father’s hasty departure would bruise the loyalty of his local friends and associates, but I assure you, it has not. They still have him up on a pedestal—and that includes Ingram Meyer.”
“Who?”
“Ingram Meyer, an old friend of your father’s. He’s the loan officer at the St. Helena Credit Union, but more importantly, he’s the trustee of yours and Julian’s trust funds. Believe me, he will follow your father’s instructions to the letter.”
Natalie’s jaw had to be touching the floor. “Some man I’ve never heard of—or met—holds my future in his hands?”
“I’m sorry, Natalie. The bottom line is that . . . short of convincing your father to amend the terms, there is nothing I can do.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” Natalie sighed. “Not after how he left.”
Corinne was silent a moment. “Thank you.”
That was it. The end of the conversation. There was nothing more to be said. Currently, Natalie was the furthest thing from gainfully employed. And even further from being married. The patriarchy wins again. She’d have to return to New York with her tail between her legs and ask for a low-level position at one of the firms she’d once called rivals. They would eat up her humility with a spoon and she’d . . . grin and bear it. Pulling together enough money to open her own business would probably take a decade, but she would do it. She’d do it on her own.
“Okay.” Resigned, hollow, Natalie stood on shaky legs and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “Good luck with your meetings this morning.”
Corinne said nothing as Natalie left the house, closing the door behind her and descending the steps with her chin up. This morning, she would head into town, get her hair and nails done. At the very least, she could look good when she landed back in New York, right?
But everything changed on the way back from getting that balayage—and like some weird nursery rhyme from hell, it involved a cat, a rat . . . and a SEAL.
Chapter Three
He should have closed the front door.
Now the goddamn cat was gone. She’d flown the coop in protest of his preliminary stages of packing. Very preliminary. He’d only taken the suitcase out of the closet and opened it on his bed. After sniffing it, climbing inside, and taking a few laps around his luggage, Menace had slunk off to the kitchen. August assumed she couldn’t care less about his packing activities, but he forgot the cardinal rule about cats.
Change equaled assault. And they were casual in their revenge.
Now here he was, jogging along the path between his disastrous winery and the road, calling out for a deaf cat. How had it come to this?
Menace never left the house. August knew that firsthand because after she’d shown up one day out of the blue and declared him her new caretaker, he’d spent two weeks trying to coax her furry ass back outside. Apparently he should have tried packing.
“Menace,” he boomed, hands cupped around his mouth. Maybe she could hear the vibrations of his voice in the air? “Do you think because I’m packing that I’m going to leave you here? Do you need to be reminded that I spent eight hundred dollars at the vet last week? That’s long-term shit. I didn’t even know cats could get gingivitis.”
Silence.
Obviously.
His unlikely companion meowed on occasion, but it usually happened in the middle of the night for absolutely no reason that he could figure out. He’d always considered himself a dog person. No, he was a dog person. He just liked this one cat.
Famous last words.
Up ahead near the road, there was a flash of orange. There she is.
August picked up the pace of his jog, starting to get a little nervous upon realizing how close they were to the road. And when he noticed the distinct rumble of an approaching vehicle, he started to sprint, sweat breaking out along his spine.