Page 18 of Blush
Leonard narrowed his dark eyes, then gathered up his pillows and headed for the bedroom door. “I’ve had enough talking for one night. I’m going to sleep in one of the guest rooms.”
Vivian was taken aback; it wasn’t like him to be so sensitive.
“Leonard, stop. Nothing will be solved by you leaving. I’m not trying to aggravate you. I’m trying to help.”
He walked back to the foot of the bed. “The most helpful thing would be for you not to question me. I need your support. It’s the only way to get through this.”
“Okay. Please—come back to bed.” The problem wouldn’t be solved overnight. She didn’t want to sleep apart.
He hesitated just a moment before settling back next to her.
She reached out and touched his arm. “I’ll be supportive,” she said to placate him. “But we have to tell Leah what’s going on.”
“Why ruin her vacation?”
“This doesn’t just affect the two of us, Leonard. We always planned to pass the vineyard on to our family. We have two children and a granddaughter. You’re contemplating a move that would take the business away from all of them permanently. Leah has a right to know.”
“Asher is the only one working at the business.”
“And whose fault is that?” Vivian said, crossing her arms. “I thought that what we were doing here meant something. That our grandchildren would walk the same fields as their father and grandfather. It wasn’t just about making money. I could have stayed in New York City with my parents for that.”
“Vivian, I don’t think you understand: I’m not selling to be rich. I’m selling to survive. To walk away withanything.”
What was he talking about?
“You’re exaggerating. That isn’t what Marty said in the meeting.”
“I told him not to discuss how bad things are in front of Asher. I don’t want Asher to know. If he finds out there’s no fortune left, he’s going to run off. It doesn’t look good to prospective buyers if my vice president quits. This summer is about keeping up appearances at all costs.”
“Leonard, don’t be ridiculous. All this land? It’s valuable.”
He shot her a look. “Are you needling me?”
For a minute, she was confused. What had she said? And then she realized the true problem. They were not in a bind just because the winery wasn’t making enough profit; their hands were tied thanks to a business decision made thirty years earlier. In need of an influx of cash, Leonard sold the development rights to all of their land to Suffolk County. At the time, the sum the county had paid seemed enormous. But it was an infinity deal: the property went into a land trust that would prevent it from ever being used for anything other than winemaking or farming. It could never be developed for commercial use. So while their neighbors in the Hamptons were getting millions and millions for a tract of land, their property on the North Fork was a money pit.
“The company balance sheet determines the value of the sale—not our property,” he told her.
She felt a ripple of fear. Could that be true? They were losing everything?
“You should have told me,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You should have told me sooner.”
“What good would it have done?” His face was tight with frustration.
She stood up and gathered her own pillows.
“I thinkI’llsleep in one of the guest rooms tonight,” she said.
Eleven
Breakfasts were a big deal year-round at Hollander Estates, but the summers made for a particularly abundant first meal of the day. Peternelle set out bowls of fresh berries with cream straight from a local dairy farm, peach scones baked with fruit from their own trees, homemade granola, croissants, and custom omelets upon request. It always took Leah a day or two to adjust since her only breakfast in Manhattan was a quick cup of coffee on her way out the door. But now she was fully on winery time.
The kitchen invited a leisurely appreciation of food. With its open shelving, hanging copper pots, and large central island, it was warm and elegant. The island was made from a walnut English table that had been expanded and topped with green Connemara marble. Leah remembered when her mother had discovered the marble from the west coast of Ireland and became obsessed with its palette of hunter green, gray, and eggshell. Leonard had been appalled by the cost, but he’d been spared by the fact that the marble was a limited quantity. Vivian had only been able to acquire enough to use it for the island and the wall behind the stove.
Leah scooped some berries onto a plate and pulled a stool up to the island.
“You’re up early,” Asher said, strolling in, tapping away at his phone. He was dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt.
“Right back at you. And dressed up. What’s the occasion?”
