Page 63 of A Vintage of Regret
“What about enemies?” Bryson asked.
“Outside of you and your brother, not many,” Grant said. “A few people in business, but that’s less like enemies and more like we just don’t see eye to eye.”
“What about people who didn’t take your advice about Robert?” Bryson’s father asked.
Grant shrugged. “I don’t think anyone blamed me for that, not even my mother, and she’s the queen of blame.”
Silence filled the kitchen—just the clock ticking and the hum of the fridge.
Walter finally spoke. “You need some rest. So, you’re going to march yourself up to one of our guest rooms, climb into a bed, and sleep for a few hours. I’ll call Harlan. See if he can make a Sunday house call.”
Grant hesitated. “I’m too tired to argue. Thanks.”
Bryson caught his father’s eyes over Grant’s bowed head. Walter’s look said, “Help him.”
But Bryson’s gut whispered something different—that Grant’s hadn’t given them the whole story. That pieces were missing, things they didn’t know. And until Monday’s autopsy, those shadows were going to linger, no matter how much coffee they poured or how many reassurances they gave.
Twelve
Late afternoon sunlight spilled across the Boone backyard, bathing it in a honeyed glow, warm enough to coax the last lazy bees toward the flowering vines that climbed the surrounding fences. The air was rich with the scent of grass and the dusty, herbal aroma of the olive trees from the grove beyond. This had always been one of Riley’s favorite times of the year. But today, everything just felt… wrong.
She sat at the long teak patio table with Erin, Kelly, and Brea, each of them cradling a glass of wine. Erin’s kids, Nathan and Willa, were darting across the lawn, shrieking with laughter as Bryson and Devon chased them like the overgrown kids they were. Kelly’s two, Jessica and Randy, joined in, weaving between lawn chairs and past the garden beds in a chaotic blur of limbs and giggles as if their world wasn’t in turmoil. As if their father wasn’t facing the biggest hurdle of his life.
On the far side of the house, behind the glass doors of the home office, Riley could just make out the shapes of Grant, Harlan—the lawyer Bryson’s dad had recommended—and Walter. Heads bent together, their silhouettes moved slowly, deliberation written in every gesture.
On the patio, the ladies tried to make the conversation lighter, but it proved impossible. Erin sighed as she leaned back in her chair, pulling her legs up under her. “Brea, thank you so much for letting us spend the day here. I can’t remember the last time I walked the vines or just relaxed in the fresh air. I’d forgotten how beautiful it is.”
“You’re welcome anytime.” Brea smiled. “I’m sorry your husband couldn’t come.”
“No, you’re not, and neither am I.” Erin huffed, looking down at her lap, hands crossed. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
“It’s honest.” Riley reached out and took her sister’s hand. “No more pretending, right?”
“Maybe not with you. With Kelly. Or even the Boones.” Erin stared out at the vineyard, her gaze following her young children, ten and eight. So young. So innocent. “But with them?” Erin shook her head, wiping a finger across her cheek as a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell them I’m leaving their father. It’s not like they don’t know. Willa cries sometimes at night, asking why daddy leaves after dinner. Nathan acts out. But his aggression is pointed at me. He blames me for his father’s physical and emotional absence.”
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” Brea added softly. “And, I’m sorry to say, but it might get worse before it gets better. But as long as you don’t make adult problems theirs, they’ll adjust. Kids are resilient. What they need is love. Understanding. And the truth, in an age-appropriate format.”
“That’s not going to be easy.” Erin took a tiny sip of her wine. “And once my mother gets wind of my plans… God, that’s going to be a mess. I know how she’ll be, and because she likes to think I’m the one with the problems and constantly takes my husband’s side, she’ll put that on my children.”
“You’ve got to create boundaries with her,” Kelly said. “It’s about the only thing Grant and I ever really fight hard about.He loves his mother, and she’s been pulling at his strings for as long as I can remember. Standing up to her isn’t easy. He did it for me, and he continues to do so for our children.” She ran her hands up and down her thighs. “It’s a delicate dance to keep her in our lives sometimes.”
“I had no idea it was that bad.” Riley shifted, staring at her sister-in-law. “No one ever mentioned this before—not Grant…or Dad…”
Kelly shrugged. “Grant and I kept our issues private. We didn’t want it touching our kids. It started back in college when we started dating, and Elizabeth had a freaking meltdown over me. Grant told her that either she accepted he was going to marry me, or he would walk out of her life.” Kelly waved a finger like it was a laser pointer and she was giving a keynote speech. “Just like you did. That really got to her, but she’s been mostly okay. It’s Grant who struggles with it. He’s always missed you and hates the family dynamic but doesn’t know how to change it. Years of hurt. Years of blaming people. Years of staring at Bryson, feeling as if things had been different there, you’d still be here.”
“Jesus, that’s a lot to take in.” Riley swallowed hard. It was a bitter pill, but she couldn’t deny that this had been her brother’s reality. “However, Grant has said some pretty crappy things to me when we’ve chatted on the phone.”
“That’s because his mother still knows how to get to him when it comes to you,” Kelly said. “This isn’t meant to hurt you, but it’s hard when he’s only seen you a few times in the last decade.”
That stung. However, it was also the truth.
“Do you feel that way, Erin?” Riley asked.
“Sometimes, but I’ve been on this rollercoaster ride with Chad. It’s all-consuming.” Erin sighed. “But, I can’t even thinkabout that right now. Grant needs to be the focus. I don’t believe for one second he did what he’s being accused of.”
“These aren’t easy times for any of you,” Brea said. “Just breathe. Tackle one thing at a time.”
“My parents' divorce screwed all of us so much,” Erin whispered. “We all handled it differently, but none of us well.”
