Dad set down his half-eaten sandwich and cleared his throat. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
I knew what was coming. He was going to say out loud what he’d only alluded to at Thanksgiving. His speech about family mattering more than land or barrels had made it clear he’d already accepted defeat, but he hadn’t actually told me the details. Hadn’t admitted to his younger daughter that everything was falling apart.
But I couldn’t let him say it. Not yet.
“Actually, there’s something I need to show you first.”
Dad shook his head. “Saffron, honey, please. I need you to listen to me. This is important.”
“I know it is, Dad. And I promise I’ll listen. But later, okay? Right now, we need to go to Los Caballeros. We need to be there by six.”
His brow furrowed with confusion. “Los Caballeros? Why? What’s going on?”
“I can’t explain it here. You need to see it. Both of you.”
My mother reached across the table and put her hand over mine. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking. Whatever is going on, you can tell us.”
“I know. But this is something I need to show you, not tell you. Please just come with me.”
They looked at each other. Then my father said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
We loaded into my parents’ SUV. My dad offered to sit in the back so my mother and I could chat. Not that we did.
My nerves made it impossible to sit still. My knee bounced. My stomach churned. There were too many variables and far too much riding on this single evening.
The drive to Los Cab felt endless even though it only took fifteen minutes. Mom asked questions I deflected. My father’s reflection in the rearview mirror looked older than I remembered, even from Thanksgiving, as he watched the vineyards roll past with a troubled expression.
When we drove through the gates and parked near the caves, my hands were shaking badly enough that I had trouble turning off the ignition.
“Saffron. What’s going on?”
“You’ll know soon. I promise.”
“Then, let’s go see what has you so wound up.”
I led them into the caves and to the main barrel room. Voices echoed ahead of us. Lots of them.
When we rounded the corner, I stopped to take in the scene that Snapper and his family had arranged.
A long table had been set up in the center of the space, glasses were arranged in neat rows, and a barrel mounted on a rack had been tapped. Candles flickered on the ledges carved into the stone walls, casting warm light across the faces of those in the room.
More than thirty people had come together. Snapper’s three older brothers were there with their wives as well as Kick, Alex, and Maddox. Tryst stood with a group of my father’s closest friends in the world.
I watched his expression shift from confusion to recognition as he took in the scene.
“What’s going on?” His words carried an edge of wariness as he approached them. “Why is everyone here?”
“A very special tasting. One we are so happy you’re here for,” Tryst said, welcoming both my parents with open arms.
One by one, the other men approached with warm expressions, joking and laughing, clapping him on the shoulder and congratulating the family on the birth of their first grandchild.
I’d expected to see pity on their faces. Maybe not all, but a few. Except none looked at my father with anything but happiness to see him. I eavesdropped as they talked about old times, about harvests from decades past, about the way things used to be before “the young guns took over all the wineries.” Whatever discomfort Dad had felt seemed to ease as Hewitt Ridge recollected the disastrous crush they’d all experienced years ago.
“We came through that unscathed because we banded together. Remember, guys?” Hewitt said.
Murmurs of agreement came from around the room.
“Hey, beautiful girl,” Snapper said. When he put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple, everything else faded into background noise. “How are you holding up?”
