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“The event pays for some of it. This is why the estate exists.”

He introduces me to a cellar supervisor, asks about the line damaged during Saturday’s outage, and listens while she explains the repairs. He doesn’t take over the conversation. When she points out a problem with a conveyor belt, he asks what she needs, approves replacing the part, and moves on.

I keep my attention on the workers as they return to the fruit. None of them look relieved when he walks away, and no one appeared uneasy when he arrived. That doesn’t tell me what Andrei did twelve years ago, but it tells me they trust him here.

“My father and Leo planted the first vines after we came from Russia,” he says as we leave the production floor. “My mother and Sofia came with us. They worked beside them while the winery was being built.”

My eyebrows rise. “You were a child?”

“Ten. My father believed there was room here to grow the wine he wanted to make. In Russia, our family’s vineyards were small.” He looks toward the rows visible through the open doors. “He and Leo wanted land they could build into a future for both families.”

“Did he know it would become all this?”

“He hoped.” The hint of a smile appears on Andrei’s face as he looks across the production floor. “Sofia would say he planned for half of it, and I failed to stop at the sensible point.”

“You don’t seem to hear ‘stop’ very often.” I give him a pointed look.

“I hear it.” He turns his attention back to me. “I decide whether the person has a reason.”

“Your success rate with me isn’t impressive.” I fold my arms.

“I’m aware.” The corner of his mouth curves.

I look around at the stained gloves, full bins, and people calling to one another above the equipment. Last night, I thought of his wealth as a force that could hide Connor from me. I still know it can. I can also see where the money came from and what it means to the families working here.

“Grandma left me The Book Corner,” I tell him. “I thought I understood it because I grew up there, but owning it meant learning why she kept every repair bill in the same drawer and which customers would feel betrayed if I moved their favorite section.”

“Did you move it?”

“The mysteries? Never. Mrs. Ellison would organize a protest.”

He glances at me. “You know who would lead it?”

“She buys two every week and claims Murphy likes her despite the evidence.” I run a hand over the railing beside us. “Grandma read the first page of every used book donated to the store. She said it helped her decide where it belonged, but I think she wanted to know who had loved it before we did.”

“And you kept the habit?”

“I did. I open every donated book before I put it out.”

The words leave me standing still.

Andrei takes another step before he realizes I’ve stopped. He turns, his attention on me at once. I can almost hear Dad’s pencil tapping against his puzzle.

He put it where Cassie always looks first.

“The first page,” I murmur.

Andrei turns fully toward me. “That’s what you told me yesterday.”

“I know, but I’ve been thinking about books Connor owned or books Grandma gave us.” I press my fingertips against my forehead. “There were several boxes of used books donated to the store last week. They’re still in their cartons, and I haven’t opened them all.”

“When did they arrive?”

“Last week. A school book drive collected more than they could use, and they brought the extra boxes to me. Connor knew about them because I complained that they were blocking the long table. He came by before he disappeared.”

“If he put anything in one of them, it may still be there.” Andrei takes out his phone.

“Or whoever tried my lock thinks it is.” I look up at him. “I need to go back.”