Collin took me on a tour the day after I flew into California, and we lounged in the tasting room as I sipped from multiple glasses, each vintage tasting better than the last. He instructed me on things like “tannins” and the “smoky notes from the schist in the soil,” which I understood even less than nuclear physics or why I can’t pull off high-waisted jeans without looking like a mom heading to the grocery store.
“Why don’t you go into winemaking full-time?” I asked, smiling at his enthusiasm. “Surely, you’ve done enough for the Harris family business. It’s so clear that you love everything about the process here.”
His smile faded as he pulled up his shirt sleeve. The tattoo there has faded over time, but the lettering is clear. “Born into blood for life and into death.”
“Wow,” I said awkwardly. “That sounds more like a wedding vow.”
“The family is always first,” he said, rolling his shirt sleeve down and buttoning the cuff. “Above marriage. Above children.” He chuckled, but his heart was not in it. “Certainly above hobbies like winemaking.”
Knowing I was treading on dangerous ground but doing it anyway, I asked, “If you weren’t a Harris, what would you have chosen to do with your life?”
He gestures around the room. “This. Or a simple job, something non-demanding so I could have spent more time with Caroline and the kids when they were young.”
I leaned against the shining walnut table. “That sounds nice. I can tell you love her very much.”
“I do.” His voice was choked, and he polished off his glass. “Ready to try the chardonnay?”
We spent the rest of the afternoon going through old family photos. He told me about the time my mother broke her leg after jumping off the pressing house roof as a dare. How he met Caroline, my grandmother. How proud he was that his sons were rising in the organization so quickly.
That was the best day.
After the “meet the family” dinner, everyone left me alone. Collin is knee-deep into some acquisition the family is pursuing, and I know just enough about the workings of crime families now to understand why I don’t see much of him.
Sloan and Catriona call repeatedly until I break down and answer the phone.
“Here I was thinking ya dropped us, cousin-in-law,” Cat scolds me.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to me,” I admit.
“Fuck that!” Sloan is indignant. “You and Kai are married, remember? Even if you weren’t, we’re still your family. I understand wanting to know more about your grandfather, but you’re not getting rid of us.”
I miss them so much that I don’t point out that this marriage has an expiration date, and once the Aristocrats have been exploded into tiny pieces, there will be no reason for Kai’s protection. I’m weak enough to want to pretend my life there could be permanent. That it’s real.
Instead, I ask, “Tell me everything that’s happening. What have I missed?”
Wandering through the tidy rows of vines, already heavy with plump clusters of grapes, I laugh about Uncle Lachlan bringing a surface-to-air missile to dinner at their grandparents’ mansion and that Logan’s car was torched by an angry ex-girlfriend.
“Oh, my good lord, tell me he wasn’t in it!”
“No,” Catriona says, “she’s from the Wallace clan. They’re all spoiled and wildly unpredictable. But even she wouldn’t try to fry up my cousin.”
“That is deeply troubling.”
“You’re forgetting the kind of family you married into?” Catriona laughs. “Speaking of which, how’s it goingthere?Did ya get a warm reception?”
“Collin held a nice family dinner at one of their restaurants here so I could meet the rest of the Harrises.”
“Was it The Crafted Table?” Sloan asks. “I’ve eaten there. The shrimp risotto was incredible. I’d heard that it was mafia-owned.”
“The very same. Most of them showed up, which was nice.” I kick a rock off the dirt path.
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Cat says.
“They treated me like a curiosity,” I admit, “not surprising, I guess.”
“Wedidn’t treat you like a curiosity,” Sloan insists on pointing that out, though I had thought it to myself more than once.
“My grandfather - I still can’t bring myself to call him that in regular conversation - has been very kind. It’s been wonderfulto hear stories about my mom.” I squint up at the blue sky. Two turkey vultures are lazily circling, riding the wind. “What about… the stuff?”
