“We’re selling the winery.” There is unmistakable sadness in Mrs. Bianchi’s voice.
“What?” Nothing could have prepared me for this news. I close my mouth when I realize it’s hanging open.
“I know it’s a shock.” Mrs. Bianchi looks at me thoughtfully.
“But why? You love this place.” I can’t think of one reason Mrs. Bianchi would be selling this place.
“I do, but some things are more important.” Mrs. Bianchi pauses. She appears to be searching for words. “Mr. Bianchi’s sick.”
“Oh no.” The words are so inadequate to describe the sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Prostate cancer, stage four.” Mrs. Bianchi fiddles with the pen in her hand.
I don’t know much about prostate cancer, but I know that stage four almost never leads to a great outcome. “How’s he doing?” I ask fighting back tears.
“He’s trying to be strong for me, for the kids. The only thing he’s asked for is to move to Texas to spend what time he has left with our kids and grandkids.” Mrs. Bianchi grabs two tissues from the box on her desk and hands me one.
“You don’t have to sell it. You could take some time away. I can help run it while you’re gone.” Walking away from the winery is probably something she never foresaw doing.
“I appreciate the offer and I thought about that option, but I don’t want to come back and run this place without him. I know most people think of me when they think of this place, but he handles so much behind the scenes, things I never wanted to be involved in. It’s been ours, together, this whole time and I can’t imagine it any other way.”
I nod, knowing no words to make this even a tiny bit easier.
Mrs. Bianchi dabs her eyes. “We talked it over with the kids and since none of them have any interest in stepping in, we decided that selling it made the most sense.”
The Bianchi’s two sons and daughter all live in Texas. Their daughter married a man serving in the army and relocates her family every few years. Last I heard, they were stationed at Fort Hood. One son is a successful pediatrician in the Dallas area. The other son got married a few years ago and they moved to Austin to be near his wife’s family. Mrs. Bianchi and I had a laugh about how they all ended up completely different, but within a few hours of each other. Now, it’s apparent that this was a blessing.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sad to leave this place, but I’m positive it’s the right decision. I’m getting older and spending time with family isn’t something I’ve been able to do a lot of over the years. My grandchildren are thrilled I’m coming to live near them and that makes me happy.” Mrs. Bianchi presses the tissue to the corners of her eyes again. “I can’t stay here without him.”
I stand up and walk around the desk. I don’t know what else to do other than wrap my arms around her. We stay that way for a few minutes before I return to my seat, wiping my damp eyes with my crumpled tissue as I do.
“So, what’s the plan? How can I help?”
Mrs. Bianchi takes a deep breath. “Well, I hired a general manager.”
Mrs. Bianchi mentioned hiring one a few months ago. Someone who could potentially lighten her work load.
“That’s great. I didn’t realize you had already started the interview process for that position.”
“We didn’t. You met Nicolette at Wilkens. She’s agreed to move down here and take the position.”
“Oh.” I try to sound excited about it.
“She’s Mrs. Everett’s granddaughter and she has great experience. I think she’ll be a great addition to the team.” Mrs. Everett is a long-time friend of the Bianchis. She’s even invested in different projects at the winery over the years.
“I’m sure she will.” I nod and remind myself I should keep an open mind. Nicolette seemed very capable. Maybe I’ll end up really enjoying working with her. I plaster a fake smile on my face. “When does she start?”
“Next week. She’ll be spending the next month working closely with me to learn the operations side of things, but she should spend some time with you, Ryan and Monica, too.”
“We can definitely work out a schedule. When do you leave for Texas?”
“In a month. It’s not a lot of time, but…” I don’t blame Mrs. Bianchi’s reluctance to verbalize there may not be a lot of time left for Mr. Bianchi. “The winery may take a while to sell, but at least I can leave knowing the day to day operations will continue with minimal interruption. The sale can be finalized without me here.”
I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I try my best not to burden her with my sadness about the situation. “Do you have any buyers in mind?”
“No, but I’ve asked Luke and Aaron for some help. I know it’s not something they would normally handle, but I trust them, and they’ve agreed to give it a shot as a personal favor. The thought of selling this place to the highest bidder makes me sick to my stomach. I want this place left in good hands when I’m gone.”
“I’m sure Aaron and Luke will be able to find someone suitable.”
“I hope so.”
Mrs. Bianchi’s phone chimes with an incoming text, it’s a good time to excuse myself.
I rise from the chair. “Thank you for telling me before the meeting. Please let me know if you or Mr. Bianchi need anything.”
Mrs. Bianchi smiles softly. “Thank you, Jessica.”
I nod and leave the office, sickened by the news.
I return to my office and get started on cash reports Mrs. Bianchi asked for last week and I’ve yet to complete. I’m doing a final check of balances when I hear the door to the office open.
I hear low voices but can’t make out what Linda or the person who entered is saying. I’m looking at my doorway, as if that will somehow give me superhuman hearing capabilities when Luke walks through, causing me to startle.
He closes the door and takes a seat. “Mrs. Bianchi said she met with you.”
I clear my throat and adjust myself in the chair. “She did.”
“It’s awful.” Luke looks around my office, anywhere but directly at me.
“It is.” I set down the pen I was nervously tapping on the desk.
Luke shifts in the chair. “Mrs. Bianchi called on Monday and asked if we could rearrange our schedules to be out here yesterday and today. I had no idea this was why.”
“She said you and Aaron are going to help find a buyer?”
“We’re not brokers, but we’re going to try to guide the process for them. She feels we have a good understanding of this place and the type of person who she would want to sell it to.”
“Right.” I say tapping my nails on the desk.
We’re both quiet for a long time.
“How’s your mom?” Luke is the first to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Better. Reluctantly resting. She’s getting restless and bored.” My hands move to my stomach were a dull ache is building into something more.
“Sounds like Jill.” Luke’s eyes shift down to my hands. “About the other day at the hospital—”
My stomach sinks even further. “Luke, I said some things that day—”
Luke raises a hand to stop me. “It’s fine. That’s not the way you should have found out about Claire staying with me. I wish I could go back and have that conversation go differently.” Luke keeps his voice steady and controlled.
“Right.” I look down at my desk. “I shouldn’t have said…a lot of things.” I can’t bring myself to repeat anything I said that day.
Luke clears his throat. “I’m not proud of myself, either.” When I look at him his eyes turn away quickly, examining the plaques and artwork hanging on the walls. “We should focus on our working relationship for the remainder of the time I’m associated with the winery.”
“Remainder of
the time?”
“When the winery is sold, Aaron and I will be bought out. We won’t be investors here any longer. Then we won’t have to see each other anymore.” Luke looks away, pretending to be distracted by his phone.
“Of course.” A sudden chill in the air makes me grab my sweater from the back of the chair.
“I’d like to set aside our personal feelings and get this winery sold for the Bianchis.” Luke is looking at me when I turn back around. He’s sitting up a little taller in his chair. “Aaron and I would like for you to sit in on meetings with potential buyers. You know the Bianchis better than we do and can offer some deeper insight into the daily operations.”
“No problem.” I purse my lips together.
“Great. I don’t think anyone could ever replace the Bianchis, but I look forward to working together to find someone who will love it and its people.” Luke abruptly rises and gives me a nod. “Aaron or I will be in touch.” He walks out before I can respond.
I lean back in my chair and look up at the ceiling, trying to reconcile all that’s happened.
“Hey, Mom,” I call out as I let myself in.
“Hi, Grandma.” Amelia sings out, making her way past me and into the house.
“My favorite girls.” My mom is standing in the kitchen pulling a cookie sheet from the oven.
I frown at her and keep it plastered on my face until she sees me.
“Don’t give me that look, they’re not for me, they’re for Amelia.” Amelia squeals and my mom sets the tray on the counter before pulling her in for a big hug.
“Fine, but you’re also supposed to be resting, not baking cookies.” I take a seat at the counter and she hands me an oatmeal raisin cookie. I take a bite and smile. She really does make the best cookies.
“See, these cookies are healing. They even made you smile.” She winks at me before going to the fridge to pour Amelia a glass of milk.
“Grandma?” Amelia says in her sweetest voice.
“Yes?” My mom echoes her tone.
“Can I please take my cookies into your room and look through your jewelry box?” Amelia wraps her arms around her grandmother’s waist.
“Sure.” She rubs Amelia’s back for a minute, then loads her up with several cookies on a plate. Definitely enough to ruin her appetite for dinner.
I grab another cookie from the sheet as I pass by on my way to the fridge. As expected, my mom has a half empty bottle of rosé in there. I grab it and pour myself a glass. “You’re not supposed to be drinking wine, either.”
“I haven’t, that’s from last week.” She raises her hands in a surrender pose. “I promise I’m trying to be a good patient.”
I take a big swig. It’s too sweet, but I’ll take it tonight. “That’s what they say right? Doctors and nurses make the worst patients?”
“Assholes of any profession make the worst patients.”
I laugh. “How’re you feeling?”
“Good.” She answers too quickly, causing me to raise an eyebrow at her. “I’m more tired than usual, but otherwise I feel back to normal.”
“Good.” I pour more wine in my glass.
“So, when were you going to tell me about your fight with Luke?” She leans back, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Who told you I had a fight with Luke?” I ask, but I already know. “Emily.” I answer my own question.
“She stopped by yesterday to say hello.”
“Traitor.” I don’t really mind that Emily said anything. I planned on filling my mom in once things settled down with her health.
“She figured you’d already told me.” My mom shakes her head. “But I told her no, that apparently you were holding out on me. Is this what getting older feels like, being left out of things because everyone assumes you’re too frail to handle it?”
“Nobody’s going to mistake you for a brittle old woman anytime soon.” I take another sip. My taste buds have already started to dull to the overly sweet liquid.
“What happened?” Her look of concern indicates she’s done joking.
I try to stretch the tension out of my neck. “Luke had her move in.”
“Had who move in?” She looks confused for a second and then realization dawns. “His baby mama?”
“You aren’t allowed to say that ever again.” I shake my head. “But, yes, he had her move in.”
“Why? They aren’t together, are they?” The pain in my mom’s voice echoes what I feel in my heart.
“He says no, that he’s only trying to be there for her and the baby.” I fiddle with the edge of the placemat on the counter. “She’s only supposed to be there for a couple months.”
“One might say that’s a nice gesture.” She shrugs as I peer over the top of my glass at her. She quickly shakes her head. “I’m not one of those people, though. Having her move in seems inappropriate.”
“Tell me about it.” I sigh.
“So, he told you about it and then you fought?” my mom says cautiously. She’s right to assume there’s more to it.
“No, he didn’t tell me. Emily figured it out on social media and confronted him about it.”
She lets out a rush of air. “I don’t think he goes looking for it, but that boy sure does know how to find trouble.”
The way she says it causes me to snort and choke on my wine. My mom’s laughter joins mine momentarily before the mood returns to the serious one the conversation warrants.
“What are you going to do?” She looks at me thoughtfully.
“Nothing.” I sigh.
“Nothing?” My mom sounds incredulous.
“Nothing for now. When we talk about it, we both end up more angry. Honestly, this entire year has been overwhelming, and I need some quiet. Luke is not quiet.”
My mom twists her mouth and looks at me thoughtfully.
Before she can say it I add. “I know he didn’t plan this and part of me respects he’s trying to do the right thing, but it doesn’t mean this is the right situation for me. Maybe we’re simply very different people at different places in our lives.”
“Maybe.” My mom looks sad.
“The fight at the hospital was bad, Mom. I said some really mean things. Luke said he’s done. The only reason we’re even talking is because of the business of selling the winery.” I lean back. “I don’t know how to not be angry with him right now. I thought I was close to forgiving him until I found out about her moving in and all the resentment rushed back in.”
“Are you really worried about her?”
“I don’t know. It’s not even that I think something’s going on between them. I don’t want to sit around and wait for him to…” I trail off.
“To what?” My mom frowns waiting for me to continue.
“What if he picks her someday? What if he decides he wants to try to have a normal family with her? Luke’s going to do anything to be a good dad, what if he decides that means being with his baby’s mom.” I stare at my now empty glass.
“You have to trust he won’t do that.” My mom sighs. “That’s the inherent risk to loving someone, you have to be vulnerable and believe they won’t hurt you, at least not on purpose.”
“He didn’t set out to hurt me, but he did.”
“I know and that doesn’t set the foundation for a good relationship.”
I look up in surprise. “I thought you liked Luke.”
“I adore him.” My mom smiles at me.
“But?” I urge her to continue.
She places her hand on mine. “You’ve been handed a set of extraordinary events that would test the most solid of relationships. The fact that you and Luke haven’t learned to work as a team yet makes it nearly impossible. That was the problem between your dad and me, too.” My parents divorced when I was young. We don’t talk about it often, but I know the ca
talyst for their split was their inability to communicate and reach a mutual decision regarding my mom’s education.
“I would love to be a team, but it’s hard when the other person always thinks they’re right.” I roll my eyes.
“Yes, Luke puts on a very manly front, always has an answer, always rushing in to save the day. I wonder why he does that?” My mom tilts her head in thought.
I wait for her to answer, but she doesn’t. “Are you going to fill me in?”
“I have theories, but I don’t know. You should know better than me. I will say, no matter the reason, Luke is obviously a protector. He enjoys being in charge and taking care of you, but you want to be independent and often push his help away. I know it’s hard for you and it’s probably hard for him, too.”
“How very caveman of him.” I roll my eyes again. “So, you’re suggesting I become a submissive housewife?”
“Of course not. My guess is your independence is two-parts attractive one-part frustrating to Luke. He loves that you’re strong, but he wants to feel needed.”
I cringe internally thinking of when I told him I would never need him.
“In my experience, some men need to be allowed to lead the way or at least think they are.” My mom smirks at me. “Neither one of you is wrong, just different visions of what a relationship looks like. You’ll have to figure out a compromise if you want it to ever work between you.”
“Maybe, but I think I finally pushed him far enough away that compromising isn’t an option any more, even if Luke was capable of it.” I sigh. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.” My mom takes a sip of her tea.
“Did Luke seem sad when the baby died?” It sounds like a silly question once I say it aloud.
She sets her tea down and appears to be thinking of her answer. “Men react to these things differently than we do. I don’t know if it’s biology or heightened emotional intelligence on our part,” she winks at me before continuing, “but we show our feelings on the outside more than they do. I’ve seen it a lot in the hospital.”
“He seemed to be okay a lot quicker than I was. I try not to be, but I’m really resentful about the whole thing.”
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