She turned to find Devon jogging after her, his expression concerned in the dim lighting from the solar path markers.
“I wanted to thank you for what you shared with Gabe,” he said. “He hasn’t been himself lately.”
“I can’t imagine what he and his wife are going through,” she said automatically, then sighed.
“They really want kids, so this hasn’t been easy.” He stopped about two feet away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “But I also wanted to make sure you were okay. Both Winston and Monica were out of line.”
“Maybe, but that’s the kind of thing we’re going to face because of my public shaming, and I'm starting to wonder if taking this job was a mistake."
"It wasn't."
"The scandal is too raw, too fresh. People are going to question your judgment in hiring me, and that could hurt the winery's reputation."
He stepped closer, and she could see the intensity in his dark eyes. "Monica Gilford is a bitter woman who destroyed lives for money, and Winston Callaway has never liked us. Their opinions don't matter."
"But other people's might."
"Then we'll prove them wrong. All of them." His conviction was absolute, unshakeable. "Emery, you're brilliant at what you do. One asshole's betrayal doesn't change that, and neither does the gossip of small-minded people who have nothing better to do than tear others down."
She wanted to believe him, wanted to let his certainty anchor her against the waves of her own doubts. "It's going to take time."
"Then we'll take time. However much you need." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "But please don't let tonight make you doubt your place here. You belong at Stone Bridge."
The sincerity in his voice made her chest tight with emotions she couldn't afford to examine too closely. "I'll try to be patient."
"That's all anyone can ask."
They walked the rest of the way to the guesthouse, stopping at her front door under the soft glow of the porch light. For a moment, they stood looking at each other, the air between them charged with possibilities neither of them could act on.
"Thank you," she said finally. "For coming after me. For caring whether I'm okay."
"Always," he said simply, and the single word carried more weight than a longer declaration might have.
"Goodnight, Devon."
"Goodnight, Emery."
She watched him walk back toward the main house before letting herself inside, leaning against the closed door as she tried to process everything that had happened. Monica's venom, Winston's calculating stare, the family's fierce defense of her, Devon's unwavering support—it was too much to unpack in one evening.
But as she poured herself a glass of water and prepared for bed, one thought kept surfacing above all the others: for the first time in months, she wasn't facing her battles alone. Whatever came next, the Boones had made it clear she was part of their family now.
She just hoped she was strong enough to live up to their faith in her.
Four
The Stone Bridge Tasting Room occupied a converted Victorian on Main Street. Its wraparound porch was dotted with bistro tables where tourists lingered over flights of wine and cheese plates. Inside, the walls displayed awards and family photos dating back to the vineyard's founding. A gleaming mahogany bar dominated the space, lined with bottles that caught the afternoon sunlight streaming through tall windows.
Emery followed Riley through the side entrance, noting how the space managed to feel both elegant and welcoming—no small feat in a town built on pretension.
"This is our bread and butter," Riley explained, gesturing around the room. "Tourists, locals, weekend wine enthusiasts. We do flights, by-the-glass service, and bottle sales. During peak season, we're slammed from open to close."
A woman about Emery's age looked up from behind the bar. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and her smile was warm and genuine despite the weariness around her eyes. Erin Callahan had the same delicate features as her sister, but where Riley carried herself with the confidence of someone who'd survived and thrived, Erin bore the invisible marks of recent emotional battles.
"Emery.” Erin came around the bar to greet her. "It's so good to see you again. Riley told me you'd joined the team."
"It's good to see you, too. You look well." And she did—tired, perhaps, but there was a strength in her bearing that hadn't been there during those awful days after her father's death when Emery had still been living in Stone Bridge.
"I'm getting there." Erin's smile held a hint of hard-won peace. "One day at a time, as they say. But this job has been a lifesaver. Literally. Working here gives me purpose, income, and the best co-workers." She squeezed Riley's hand.
