Page 31 of A Vintage of Regret
Then she shifted the truck into gear and headed into town. So many mistakes. Too many regrets blowing in the breeze. Her life had been good. She loved traveling and exploring. She’d been grateful for all the incredible opportunities she’d been given.
But they’d come at a cost. A big one. And now, it was time to pay up.
Six
The Stone Bridge Winery tasting room buzzed with the lazy hum of a mid-afternoon lull—soft conversation, the clink of glass against wood, and the faint echo of soft country music curling through the speakers. Sunlight poured through the tall front windows, warming the reclaimed redwood floors and casting tawny lines across the marble-topped bar.
Bryson moved easily behind the counter, pouring a 2020 estate Syrah into two wide-bowled glasses and sliding them across to a couple seated near the middle. They were in town from Sacramento—mid-forties, friendly, inquisitive, the kind who asked all the right questions and genuinely wanted to know more than what the tasting notes had to say.
“This one’s a personal favorite,” Bryson said, resting his palms on the bar. “Sean, one of the wine stewards, used to tell people it tasted like twilight on the back porch—blackberries, leather, and the smell of firewood.”
The couple chuckled. The woman swirled the glass under her nose, impressed. “He sounds like a storyteller.”
Bryson’s smile tightened just a fraction. “He was.” The past tense still caught him off guard. “Enjoy, and please, let me know if I can get you anything else.”
He moved down the bar to check on another guest, but his mind wandered to Sean—how he used to hold court at the far end of the bar, spinning tales about the vineyard’s earliest harvests, wild spring storms, the fire that nearly destroyed it all, and the love he had for the land. People came back just to hear him talk. That kind of charisma couldn’t be faked, and Bryson had learned a lot about life and the art of storytelling from the old man.
Bryson looked toward the empty corner, where Sean should’ve been, and something hollow opened in his chest. He’d been like a second father. And in the end, a dear friend. Mornings would be very different without him.
The front door creaked.
He turned—and there she was.
Riley stood in the doorway wearing the same jeans she’d had on last night and a light green shirt with her dark hair pulled back. Her beautiful blue eyes were swollen but defiant. She paused just inside the threshold, scanning the room as if she wasn’t sure if she belonged there.
He was around the bar in seconds.
“Hey.” He didn’t give her time to speak. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a fierce embrace, trying to absorb whatever bad emotions had been created by her family.
For a brief moment, she rested against him, then pushed back, just enough to break the contact. “Don’t,” she whispered. “If I cry again, I won’t stop.”
Bryson didn’t press, just placed a steady hand on her lower back and guided her toward the far end of the bar, where it was quieter.
“I miss him so much.” She climbed up onto the stool. “I see him everywhere. I can’t escape the memories. They’re flooding my brain, and while I want to remember, I don’t want to feelbecause when I let the emotions in, they're all about the things I did wrong.”
“Riley, don’t do that yourself. Your dad spoke so fondly of you. He would lean across this bar with his cell in hand and show all our customers the pictures you sent him. He was so very proud of you. Regardless of the rest of your family, he understood your need to see the world. To experience different places. It’s who you are, and he never wanted to stifle that in you.”
“Says the man who begged me to stay.”
He moved back to the other side of the bar, keeping his gaze anywhere but locked on hers. It wasn’t that he was avoiding her. But her words stung in ways he hadn’t been prepared for. He had begged—desperately, pathetically—asking her to choose him over her dreams. Back then, he hadn’t a clue how small he’d made her world, but that’s exactly what he’d done. It didn’t matter that in the end, he’d done the right thing, because the reality was—she’d left him no choice. “I just wanted you to come back… back to me.”
“Let’s not get into that. It’s like talking in circles about something we can’t change anyway,” she said softly. “And I just had the weirdest experience at my mom’s house. I don’t even know how to process it.”
“What happened?”
“So many things. But the good news is the doctor decided to do the autopsy.”
“Without you having to ask?”
She nodded. “He didn’t say much as to why, and while Grant and Erin are against it, they support me, and that’s… something.”
“Then what has you so upset?”
“My mother,” she said softly. “I knew she’d be cold toward me, but I was totally unprepared for her to go off on me like shedid. I also didn’t expect for Grant and Erin to defend me. That was even stranger.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with your mom’s bullshit this morning, but I’m glad your siblings are surprising you and supporting you.”
“I did have a nice chat with Grant before I left.” She pointed to a bottle behind the bar. “Can I have a glass of that Pinot?”
