Page 8 of Taurus

“I direct that all my just debts, secured and unsecured, be paid as soon as reasonable after my death, with the monies that have been set aside in a private account, known only to my attorney. Any remaining after settlements of debt, should be given, in full, to my granddaughter, Parker.”

I blink back tears, not for the bequeathment, but because it’s so odd to hear his words spoken from someone else’s mouth.

Mr. Lawson continues while Austin remains stoic next to me.

“All of the rest and residue of my property, real and personal, of every kind and description and situate, which I may own or have the right to dispose of at the time of my death, including the entirety of Pesca Vineyard and Winery, I give, devise, and bequeath in equal shares to Parker Scott and Austin Kane.”

“What?” Austin and I both say in complete unison.

Mr. Lawson holds up his hand. “There are specific details that I think you’ll want to hear.”

“I don’t understand,” Austin says, leaning forward with his head in his hands.

“Well, he’d tell us if you’d let him,” I snap and immediately regret it. There’s too much happening all at once and I’m suddenly very hot.

“Warren was very particular about what he wanted in this situation. I can continue reading, if you’d like.” Mr. Lawson asks us, and we both nod our heads in agreement. “Good.” He clears his throat and continues reading from the document. “It is my wish that Parker and Austin run and manage the daily operations of the vineyard and winery, fully and completely together for two months’ time. They will, for all intents and purposes, be co-owners. They will cohabitate in the main house, they will make all business decisions together, and after the allotted two months’ time, if they have decided this is not a path they’d wish to continue, or if they can’t choose their own outcome, the city of Summer’s Grove will take over ownership. If they disagree with these terms, the city will acquire the property immediately.”

“Wait,” Austin says, holding up his hands to stop Mr. Lawson from continuing, “he’s forcing us to live and work together… for what?”

“He’s not forcing you,” the lawyer says plainly.

“But he is,” I interject. “It’s black and white, right there in writing. Unless we agree to this, the entire company, vineyard, business, and property will be gone.” I sigh heavily and prop my face in my hands, elbows on the table. “He’s blackmailing us from the grave.”

“Parker,” Austin says from my side and I tilt my face to look at him, “unless you have any major plans for change or a giant shift in processes, I don’t see why we can’t manage this together for a couple of months.”

“I have a life outside of this place. I didn’t plan on being here that long. This… this is insane.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that more than once,” Austin replies and pushes to stand up from the table. “How long do we have to decide?”

“The terms are clear. I’m supposed to push for an immediate answer. He says instant answers are the most true, however… I can see that this is going to need some conversation. I can simply wait until tomorrow morning for your decision.” Mr. Lawson rises to his feet and slides a copy of the paperwork toward us. “Keep this, read over it. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Just like that, he’s gone, leaving both Austin and I alone in the dining room with a decision to be made between us.

It should be easy, a no-brainer really, but our history, our feelings about one another means this could be anything except easy.

Austin

I don’t know why I feel as angry and frustrated as I do, but I’m annoyed as fuck that this has to be complicated. Why couldn’t this be black and white? Cut and dry?

But that was never Warren’s way, was it? He didn’t do things for the sake of doing them. He thought everything through, oftentimes to his detriment, and took zero half measures.

If this is what he wanted, especially in his death, then it has to be for a reason.

“I guess we should probably have a conversation, shouldn’t we?” Parker’s voice glides across the breeze like a melody. A song I know intimately and I can’t help but hear more than I’d like to. Even when she’s not here.

“Are you going to actually let me speak or will you do that Parker thing you do?” I ask her as I bend over from my seat on the front steps, picking a small dandelion and offering it up to her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crosses her arms over her chest, refusing my flower offering.

I lower my hand, still holding the flower. “It means that when you have made up your mind or when you think you’re right, you talk over me and you don’t listen to anything I have to say to you.” We know that all too well, don’t we, Park?

“I don’t do that.” She steps down next to me before sinking to sit against the other handrail.

I look over at her and my eyes must tell her I’m calling bullshit on that statement because she rolls her eyes skyward and sighs. “Fine, I don’t do that all the time.”

“Tell me what you want to do, Parker. What is your ultimate goal here?” I blow the seeds off the dandelion, letting the wind take the white wisps away.

“I want my grandad's name to live on. I want Pesca to stay open, but I know I can’t stay here and manage it all. But at the same time, I can’t fathom the thought of letting it go to anyone else. I know that’s stupid,”

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