Page 10 of A Vintage of Regret
"He was distant with me too, and if I asked him about it, he told me it was nothing." She looked out at the endless stretch of sky. Her chest tightened. "I just don't have a clue as to what might have been bothering him, and that makes me feel…like…"
"Hey. Don't worry about that now. It's okay," he said, almost too easily. But then again, Bryson had always been the type to give space—until he didn't. "We can talk about it later—when I pick you up at the airport."
She weighed the offer. Calling her siblings was an option. Grant would absolutely do it. Erin would say yes, but somehow her husband would be the one showing up at the airport. She’d have to see them all at some point, but she’d rather have a moment to breathe before that happened. Bryson seemed like the least painful choice. "I'll text you my flight details," she said.
"Safe travels, Ry."
She ended the call.
For a moment, she just stood there, the wind pulling at her jacket, the ache behind her ribs growing sharper with every breath. She'd just opened a door she'd nailed shut years ago—and on the other side, the past was waiting like it hadn't missed her at all.
Bryson entered the study. It smelled like old leather, cedar, and the kind of wine that had aged better than most men. It was the kind of scent that typically made Bryson feel right at home. Tonight, it put him on edge.
He paused for a moment, staring at his father, who sat in one of the leather chairs, wine glass in hand, staring into it as if it had all the answers in life. He lifted his free hand and swiped at his cheek.
His dad turned. “Come in,” he said with a scratchy tone. “I poured you a glass.”
Bryson sat in one of the deep chairs by the fireplace, a half-full glass of cabernet resting in his hand. Across from him, his father, Walter Boone, poured himself a splash more and didn't bother hiding the tear that rolled down his weathered face.
Bryson had to remember that his dad lost a dear friend too.
As a small boy, Bryson used to love to follow his father and grandpa, and sometimes Sean, around the vineyard and listen to them talk about the grapes. About the vines. About the land and everything that went into making Stone Bridge Winery come to life. It began with a simple passion for fine wine and a family legacy. To build a place where people came together to share stories, love, and life.
Bryson glanced across the fire at his father—the man’s broad shoulders still square despite the years, silver at the temples now, hands strong and steady from a lifetime working both vines and deals. Talking to his dad was like looking into a mirror set years in the future. Same build. Same eyes. Same stubborn jaw. But it wasn't just the resemblance that Bryson respected. It was the way his father carried himself—with quiet conviction and the kind of loyalty that never wavered. He was a good man. A better husband. And the type of father Bryson thought he could have been, had he been given the chance.
His chest tightened, as it often did when he allowed himself to think about that time all those years ago—which was more often than he cared to admit—even to himself. The swirling emotions. The confusion. The shock. Followed by joy. Then anger. Resentment. And then, of course, came the grief. Thatcrushing, gut-wrenching pain that he'd buried into one massive mistake that he still carried.
"They believe it was a heart attack?" his dad asked, swirling the wine but not drinking yet. He stared at the rich liquid as it hugged the side of the glass as if it held all the world's answers.
"That's the unofficial word," Bryson replied. "No autopsy scheduled, yet. Erin asked me if they could hold a reception at the winery, and I, of course, said yes. But Grant—and Elizabeth—are still telling me and anyone who will listen that it's all my fault Sean's dead. I understand they’re hurting and need to blame someone, but it's hard enough when I blame myself."
"It's not your fault." His father lowered his chin. "But are you really surprised that they’re putting all the responsibility on your shoulders? Even if you hadn't been the one to find Sean, Elizabeth has never liked you—and she pitted Grant against you."
"Grant still holds me to the fire about Riley and why she's never returned."
"You're not at fault for that, either. Riley made that decision on her own. And frankly, it’s no one’s business but Riley’s," his dad said. "But Grant has always been reactive and quick to judgment. Remember when his stepfather was first diagnosed with cancer? Grant, and even his mom and sister, blamed you when Riley didn't come home when Parker started treatments."
Bryson let out a long breath before lifting his glass to his lips. The wine went down so smooth. One of the better vintages, but it didn't help ease the tension gnawing in his gut. " Grant and Parker have always been weirdly close. It always surprised me that it didn't bother Sean more."
"Not sure close is the right word. More like Elizabeth used her son as a prop, and Grant just stood like a trophy. And let’s not forget, Sean never wanted his children to resent him and chose to stay out of the kids’ relationship with their stepfather.He always wished all three of his kids would get along. It just never happened."
"I wish I could say that was all on Grant and Erin, but Riley can be as stubborn as they are," Bryson said. "But from where I sit, Grant and Erin never made it easy."
"It’s a difficult dynamic, and those kids were put in the middle of it by their mother."
Bryson cocked his head. "It always struck me as odd that Grant and Erin, being older, couldn’t see that, where Riley did.”
"She's always been a bit of an old soul, like her dad," his father said. "But she has an impulsive streak, one that drove Sean crazy." His father chuckled. "When we were kids, I used to tease him because he was the type of kid to make a pro and con list before making a decision. And he'd worst-case scenario everything. Where I just jumped in with both feet."
"That's funny coming from you. You always made us kids look at both sides of the coin."
"I learned that from Sean." His dad rubbed the center of his chest as if he were having sympathy pains. "When I decided to expand this baby winery my dad started, because he just enjoyed making it for his family and friends, into something bigger, Sean sat me down and told me I needed to take a page from his playbook. That I needed to ponder things, and that man was right."
"Sean was one of the smartest and kindest people I've ever known." Bryson leaned back and stared into the fire. "I can't believe he's gone. That he just up and died of a heart attack. Sean was in better shape than most guys half his age. I know Sean wasn't overly keen on doctors, but Grant’s words still shocked me. If it were you, I'd be demanding an autopsy. I'd want to know why. I'd need the answer if only to give me closure."
"You and Grant are two very different people. Grant was raised by a mother who told him he was better than everyoneelse, and she demanded he be the best. I remember when you were named the starting quarterback. Elizabeth was furious, and she accused us of paying off the coach. Of using our influence and wealth to make sure you had that spot because you weren't that good, and her son was better. She even insinuated that your mother had sexual?—"
"I don't need to be reminded of that one." Bryson stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled. "That was a rough year for me. Besides, it has nothing to do with what we're discussing."
