“I don’t understand.” I swallow hard, looking from one to the other. “You paid for my college.”
“We took out a loan against the house,” Dad says.
“We didn’t want you to leave college in deep debt,” Mom says.
My sickly stomach knot turns into a lead weight filled with guilt. I look to the ceiling. Okay, I realize they put themselves in debt just to help me out, but they knew the vineyard was my future, and now it’s at risk of falling apart just when I finally come on board. If only they’d been up front with me, I could’ve told them I’d rather deal with student loans than a business on the brink of collapse. I’m baffled at their logic and angry they kept this from me, but above all, I’m heartbroken. For them. For me. For my sisters. We love this place with all our hearts. It’s part of our family.
Wanting to be strong for them, I bury my fear that we could lose Stellariva, and face them again. “How long has this been going on? This decline?”
“Five years,” Mom says.
Dad runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “We didn’t want you to worry. Now that you’re working here, you need to know. We hoped you’d come up with some smart way to save the winery that we hadn’t thought of.”
Five years? This has been going on for five freaking years? I slowly blink. How could they keep this from me? We’ve always been so close. They knew I planned on joining the family business, yet they brought me on board a sinking ship. I could’ve gotten a job elsewhere, started working my way up the corporate ladder. I had an internship at a marketing company last semester that wanted to hire me, but I turned it down in favor of the vineyard. My parents knew that. My nails press into my palms, every muscle in my body tense. I’m pissed, but at the same time, I feel guilty for being so angry, knowing they got me through college debt-free out of love. It was probably an overprotective move on their part to keep me in the dark about their financial problems and let me enjoy college. Still, give me a choice in the matter.
“I can’t believe you kept this from me,” I say in a low voice, trying to digest this huge blow. I need to be strong and not let my emotions take over, but it feels like a betrayal from the people I love and trust the most. I could’ve handled the truth and done something about it. Maybe they just don’t trust in me as much as I do them.
“I kept hoping it would turn around,” Dad says quietly.
“I didn’t want to burden you with our troubles,” Mom says.
I lift my palms. “But you knew I planned to come back here. You know how much the vineyard means to me. You named it after me. Of course I want to see it thrive for generations.”
“That’s what we’re counting on,” Mom says, glancing at Dad. He nods. Both of them turn to me with hopeful expressions.
I narrow my eyes. “From here on out, no more secrets, no more protecting me from the truth. I’m in this, and I need to know exactly what’s going on.” Whatever it takes, I am going to save this winery.
“Max is retiring at the end of the month,” Dad says. That’s Dad’s assistant manager. The man has been with us from the beginning.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“We need a new hot water heater,” Mom says.
“That’s it, right?” Dad asks Mom.
Mom knocks on her desk. “Knock wood. That’s all I can think of.”
Failing winery, deep debt, no culinary school, losing our best employee, and a broken hot water heater. That’s plenty!
I stand on shaky legs. “I need some time to think.”
The pressure of the survival of the vineyard, my sisters’ futures, my legacy, all on my shoulders. It’s too much.
“We’re happy to talk more when you’re ready,” Mom says.
I lift a hand in acknowledgment and head back into the main house. Two things are clear—secrets are the worst, and I desperately need a plan.
I spend the better part of the day trying to come up with something, going over the numbers again and again, but the truth stares me straight in the face. Without a miracle, this winery will fold within the year. No, I refuse to allow it. If there’s a miracle to be found, I will find it.
I sleep restlessly that night, and I’m up at sunrise, feeling completely out of sorts. I dress quickly in a lavender maxi dress with my taupe ballet flats, deciding a walk will help clear my head. A few minutes later, I head out the front door and down our long driveway. I still can’t believe my parents kept something so important from me! The medieval castle across the road looms large as always. I glare at it, a stab of jealousy making my gut tighten. Their winery must be swimming in money. They’re constantly featured in all the top wine magazines.
But what makes their wines so special compared to ours? I stop on the road and stare up at the enormous dark castle. A light wind pushes my long hair in front of my face, and I smooth it back. We practically have the same soil. The sun and weather are identical. We grow the same varietals, and my dad has a degree in viniculture from Sonoma State. He even worked at a top-notch winery up in St. Helena before buying our place. He knows what he’s doing. The only explanation I can think of is that our neighbor’s grapes are simply better. Maybe they brought their plants over from Italy. Lots of wineries do that—pay big bucks to an established vineyard overseas for their vines.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I notice a tall man staring directly at me from a large window on the second floor of the castle. The vineyard manager is Neli, a petite red-haired woman. Is this the reclusive billionaire owner of the vineyard no one’s ever seen?
I squint. It kind of looks like he’s wearing a top hat. Do people still wear those? Eccentric all right. Just the kind of guy who would build a medieval castle in the middle of Napa Valley. It must be him. He may be a little eccentric, but there’s no denying he knows how to run a successful winery.
That’s it! I’m going over for a neighborly chat. Who knows how long he’ll be around before he jets off to whatever other properties he owns?
I blink, and he’s gone.
I square my shoulders and head back to my house, a new plan forming. I’ll bring some of the twins’ cupcakes as a neighborly offering. I need some out-of-the-box thinking to come up with a really good plan, and for that, I need to talk to an experienced successful colleague. So what if he spends all his time in hiding, making unusual wardrobe choices? That’s fine by me. It almost guarantees out-of-the-box thinking, right?
A short time later, plastic container of a half dozen dark chocolate cupcakes in hand, I march determinedly down our long driveway in the cool morning air. Just one positive step forward could start the momentum in the right direction for our vineyard. The alternative is too devastating to consider. If the winery fails, where would my parents go? How would they support themselves? And the twins’ dream of culinary school? Goodbye. I’m not even sure we could get them loans with my parents’ level of debt.
Still deep in thought, I cross the road. Even if the twins did manage to get loans, my parents would probably feel terrible they couldn’t do for my sisters what they did for me. Not that I asked them to. What a frigging mess.
Perched up on a sprawling hill, the castle looms in front of me, with its majestic grandeur and old-world-style wealth. This is definitely the place to gain some hint at how to turn things around. It’s obviously a successful venture for them.