I didn’t say it, but the only person I cared about being happy was Saffron. And that, I wanted with all my heart.
Saffron came into the kitchen a few minutes later and set to work making her grandmother’s stuffing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her—the way her brow furrowed in concentration as she chopped celery into uniform-size pieces and how she stuck her tongue out as she measured the turkey stock before adding it.
“What are you thinking about?” Diana asked, appearing at my elbow.
“I’ll never tell.” I winked.
“You don’t need to say anything. You’re watching my daughter like she hung the moon.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I’m pretty sure she did.”
She squeezed my arm. “She deserves someone who looks at her the way you do.”
“Not someone.Me.”
She laughed. “Better hurry up and do something about it, then. She’s been waiting on you forever.”
I wanted to tell her that it had been me waiting on Saffron. Since I was old enough to understand what forever meant. But the words stuck in my throat.
She must’ve seen something in my face because she patted my arm and moved away, leaving me there, peeling more potatoes and thinking about rings and proposals and futures I desperately wanted but was terrified to jinx.
Eventually,the table was set, the food was ready, and we all gathered. Wagner invited Lucas to sit at the head, and once we all took our places, he quietly surveyed his family.
“Before we eat,” he said, “I want to say something.” His gaze met Diana’s, and she dabbed the corners of her eyes with her napkin.
“This has been a hard few months. Worrying about Felicity, about the baby. These last few weeks especially.” He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing. “But sitting here now, seeing all of you, my beautiful granddaughter”—he gestured toward Beatrice in Felicity’s arms—“it really shows what’s truly important in life.”
Diana’s hand covered his on the table.
“It isn’t a plot of land or a bunch of barrels of wine. It’s this. It’s family. It’s being here for each other.” He turned to Diana. “Your mom and I have been talking.”
Next to me, Saffron tensed.
“We’ve been so focused on the winery, on the legacy, on keeping things going the way they’ve always been. And maybe—” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s time to let go of that. To accept that things change. That family matters more than property.”
Under the table, I found Saffron’s hand and squeezed. Her fingers gripped mine so hard it hurt.
I wondered if she thought he was giving up, surrendering, in the same way it sounded to me. That he was reframing the foreclosure as a choice, as if letting go was somehow noble instead of heartbreaking.
“We can get through anything as long as we have each other. We can face whatever comes. Because we have each other. That’s what really matters.”
He raised his glass. “To family. To health. To what truly matters.”
“To family,” everyone echoed, raising their glasses too.
I drank but couldn’t taste the wine. Next to me, Saffron barely moved.
Conversation resumed around us—passing dishes, compliments to the chef, normal Thanksgiving chatter. But Saffron picked at the food on her plate.
Lucas, though, appeared lighter. Almost at peace. Maybe the time away, being here with his daughter and son-in-law, waiting for the baby to be born, had given him the time he needed to convince himself that letting the winery go was the right choice.
But what he didn’t know was how hard his younger daughter was fighting for him. For their family.
And if she told him now and the wine failed—what would that do to him? To them?
After dinner,after the dishes were done and everyone had retreated to various corners of the house to recover from too much food, I found Saffron outside on the back patio.
She sat on the steps with her arms wrapped around her knees, gazing out at the dark vineyard.
