Page 5 of The Voice We Find

As I take the stairs to the office Jasper now inhabits, the anxiety I’ve pushed down for weeks rushes in at once. Though I’ve tried to explain my apprehension to Dana numerous times, my words never come out right. On paper, my brother is the celebrated golden boy I’ve never been able to measure up to in the eyes of our parents and their affluent friends. I was often made to feel like the quirky, over-dramatic secondborn who struggled in all the areas that seemed to come naturally to my distinguished older sibling. But the thing is, even after that golden boy grew up to become a golden son, husband, and respected business mogul, he’s never shown any interest in becoming a golden brother. Jasper’s never really shown an interest in being a brother at all.

I pause at the top of the stairs, remembering one of the last conversations I’d had with my father, standing right here. He’d thundered out of his office, fisting my hard-won acceptance letter from NYU Tisch School of the Arts and demanding that I “stop this silly nonsense at once” even though it had taken me months to record and edit my audition videos and meet the requirements to apply online.

My father was not a yeller by nature, but I suppose that’s because nobody ever dared to disobey him. I certainly never had. But I was even more certain that if I forced myself into the mold he’d created for me, it wouldn’t stop there.“You will go to Stanford like your brother, and you will let this foolishness go, do you hear me? I told your mother she would regret indulging you in this drama hogwash, and I was right. But I won’t stand for it another minute. I did not raise you to become a glorified showgirl, and I certainly will not pay for it.”He toremy letter in half and flung it over the railing. For a man so opposed to dramatics, he put on quite the show when he wanted to.“Your future is here. End of story. Now go get dressed for dinner.”

It takes more courage than it should to blink the memory away and knock on a door I was rarely welcomed through growing up. But now that my father has passed the baton off to Jasper, I’ve been given little choice as he’s now the official gatekeeper to the next six months of my life.

“Come in.”

I push the door open, and immediately I feel myself shrink back into the insecure teenager I’d hoped I left behind. There are only five years between Jasper and me, but in many ways, he’s always felt like an equal to our father.

“Hello, Sophie.” There’s a smirkish smile on my brother’s face as he takes me in from behind his desk. The setting should feel familiar, given how my father occupied this same space eighty-plus hours a week when I was growing up. But unlike the renovations made to the downstairs, I can’t discern what’s been upgraded verses what’s twenty years old. My gaze makes a quick zigzag from the imported liquor that sits high on the shelf behind his desk, to the leather recliner in the corner, and then finally to the small wooden table displaying a magazine on an easel.

My brother’s sharp jawline and intimidating brown eyes steal my focus. He’s there, on the front cover ofWine Spectator Magazine. Another professional victory, another milestone of success met. Another reminder that Jasper has always belonged here.

“H-hi,” I say around the thickness in my throat. “I just got in.” The statement is so obvious I wish I could rewind the last fifteen seconds of this interaction and start over with the same level of confidence I possess on stage. Or rather, the same confidence Iusedto possess on stage. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I figured I should check in tonight so I don’t startle someone when I come out of my bedroom in the morning.”

I once took a class on the power of microexpression during my studies, but my brother’s blur the lines of several categories. When atlast he gestures to the chair across from him, I note that the creases around his eyes appear agreeable enough. “Please, take a seat. I’d offer you something from the kitchen, but our staff has already gone home for the evening.”

“That’s alright.” I take a seat, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders. “I grabbed a bite before I left the airport. I’m more tired than anything else. It’s been a long day.”

“By the sound of your email, it’s been a long few months.” His piercing eyes appraise me with the same unsympathetic gaze of our father’s. “It’s a shame things didn’t work out for you in New York.”

But New York is quite possibly the last thing I want to discuss with my brother. I grip and twist my hands in my lap. “Do you know if Mom and Dad are planning to stop by tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid they left yesterday and will be gone for close to four weeks.” He studies me. “I assured Mom you’d understand, considering my request for them to take my place on a networking cruise to the Mediterranean was rather ... recent.”

I blink, working hard to process this new information. He’d asked them to leave the same week I was coming home? “They’re networking for Bentley Vineyards?”

“No,” Jasper says with what sounds like a hint of pity in his voice. “They’re networking for Wilder Wines. Bentley Vineyards was phased out at the end of last year.”

“When was that decided?” When he quirks an eyebrow at my boldness, I rephrase. “I just mean, I thought Gigi’s trust required a vote on any matter that affects the winery’s future.”

Due to a long-standing grudge held between Gigi and my father, she’d changed the structure of her estate to prohibit him from being one of four appointed trustees near the end of her life, limiting his power and control. Those trustees are named as Mr. Adams—Gigi’s original attorney—my mother, my brother, and me. Though I forfeited my position and vote, as well as all my financial gains, the second I drove away from the winery. A fact my father recited at length when I told him that the acting hobby I loved had become the future I wanted to pursue.

My brother leans back in his expensive chair. “It does, and we did. It was a majority vote in favor of the rebranding.”

Meaning that my mother, once again, cowed to the men in her life in order to keep them happy. Nothing new there.

Before I can comment further, my eye catches on the eerie artwork to the left of the table with the displayed magazine. Framed in a raw, dark wood, the abstract painting holds randomized textures and patterns of a neutral palette. With the exception of a blood-red smattering that divides the canvas in half.

“It’s one of a kind,” Jasper acknowledges as he stands. “All of Donnella’s paintings are. It’s what makes them so valuable.” Hands clasped behind his back, he strolls over to it. “It’s subtle yet profound, each stroke a testament of the artist’s skillful eye and to the technique he’s mastered with the manipulation of light and dark from every angle.” His gaze cuts back to mine. “The English translation of the title from Italian is ‘Blood and Shadows.’”

“I didn’t know you’d taken an interest in art.”

His smile is loaded when he says, “Eight years is a long time to be away from home.” He moves toward the desk, leaning against it’s surface directly across from me. Even at the late hour, his slacks and dress shirt remain free of wrinkles. “Upon closer inspection, you’ll find we’ve evolved on nearly every front since you left, and it’s my top priority to make sure things continue on in that direction. Without any unnecessary distraction.” Jasper lets the word linger between us. “Your current financial situation is unfortunate, Sophie, but you were the one who made the choice to disengage from this family and from the industry we’ve invested in.” His stare is unblinking, and I’m one-hundred-percent sure that if he wasn’t bound to the rules of the Bentley trust, I wouldn’t even be sitting here. “So let’s both do each other a favor and not pretend like you’ve come back for any other reason than to collect your share of the biannual payout from the trust before you’re on your way again.”

Shame pricks my cheeks because I wish I could deny it. But the hard truth is I’m broke and homeless and in desperate need of a career path that won’t cause me to freeze every time the lights goout. “I’ll do my best to be a valued employee in the time I’m here. I’ve gained quite a bit of experience working in the food service industry between shows, so I’m confident I can assume almost any position here with minimal training.” Per the conditions of the trust, I must work for the family a minimum of twenty hours per week for a duration of at least six months in order to receive a single cent of the next biannual payout. It’s a substantial amount of money. Enough to pay my debts and start over somewhere new as long as I invest it well.

“Also,” I add with my best attempt at a smile despite his scowl, “I really appreciate being able to stay at the house while I’m here.” There’s no way I’d be able to pay current rent prices in the area on the minimal wages I’ll be earning until the payout hits my account next January. “My old bedroom will be plenty of space for me and—”

“Actually,” he cuts me off, “your old room was recently remodeled into a home gym. I’ll be sure to have Natalie provide you with a schedule of the various remodeling projects we have going on this summer. For now, she’s made accommodations for you in the pool house.”

My lips part and then close. “The winery has a pool?”

“It’s currently in progress.” He pushes off the edge of the desk. “I suggest you invest in a good white noise machine if you intend to sleep past six.” He takes a seat at his computer again and taps his mouse. “Starting Monday afternoon, you’ll work in the tasting room and report directly to Natalie. She’ll handle your hours and set up your direct deposit for every other Friday, as well as provide you detailed instructions on how to check out a vehicle from our fleet, given you don’t have your own means of transportation. That is, after you renew your California driver’s license.”

Despite the low dip in my stomach at the mention of a sister-in-law who’s felt as much like a stranger to me as my own brother, I’m in no position to negotiate anything. And Jasper knows it. Without his signature, confirming I’ve met all the outlined conditions, my share of the trust payout will be denied, and I’ll have absolutely nothing to show for what will likely be the toughest six months of my life.

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