4. Emily

After the slap echoes like a gunshot in the grand dining hall of our fathers mansion, the tension snaps.

I grab Floras arm, yanking her out of the room with a force that suggests I might have been hitting the gym more than just for those glamorous plus-size model shoots. Lets go, I hiss, dragging her towards our childhood sanctuary.

Once were safely barricaded in our room, the only sound is our heavy breathing and the distant murmur of offended voices below. I collapse onto my bed, the familiar scent of lavender and dust wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. Flora paces like a caged lioness, her eyes still shooting daggers that could easily pierce through the floorboards and into Alecs heart.

Can you believe him? she spits out, finally stopping her pacing to glare at me, expecting me to share in her righteous fury.

I cant help it; I laugh. Its a short, sharp burst of amusement that feels oddly out of place in the gloom of our situation. I cant believe you slapped him. What are you? A noir detective in a vintage film?

Flora flops down beside me, her anger deflating slightly. Well, someone had to shut him up. His mouth runs like a faucet.

I remember the cake Mom sent over earlier, a peace offering in the form of decadent chocolate layers and velvety buttercream frosting. I retrieve it from its box, and Floras eyes light up with a mixture of glee and hunger.

Do we still have the emergency stash of utensils in that drawer? I ask, pointing to an oak drawer in the corner.

First thing I asked Albert, Flora says, standing up to retrieve a set of spoons. He said hes kept them washed and polished.

As we dig in, the rich taste of chocolate melting on our tongues, I cant help but wish some of the sadness away. Moms cakes always taste like missed opportunities, I muse, scooping up another spoonful.

Flora chuckles, her spoon paused mid-air. Yeah, like shes trying to bake her way out of absentee parenting.

Silence falls between us as Flora and I perch on my bed.

So, Dad … Flora begins, as we finish eating. Its kinda weird, huh? It feels like he just vanished overnight.

I nod, the weight of the situation pressing down. Yeah. And with Verona and Alec hovering like vultures, it feels even more surreal.

Floras detective instincts kick in, her brow furrowing. Theres something off about it all. Verona and Alec … theyre too calm. Like they knew this was coming.

I sigh, setting my spoon down. Flora, lets not dive into conspiracy theories. We have enough grief without adding a mystery into the mix.

She leans back, studying me with those keen detective eyes of hers. You dont think its odd?

Maybe, I admit. But what can we do? Accuse them without proof? We need to focus on the vineyard, and … and moving forward.

Flora nods, though I can tell her mind is already spinning, piecing together clues like a jigsaw puzzle. Alright, for now. But Im keeping my eye on them.

The night grows deeper, and the comfort of the cake settles in our stomachs, a sweet balm to the sharp edges of our reality.

Thanks for the cake rescue, Flora murmurs, her voice softening.

I smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. Always. Cake now, conspiracies later.

Appetites more or less sated, we change for bed and spend the rest of the night wondering what the funeral will be like.

Morning, with all of its impending doom, comes far too quickly. Flora and I dress in black. As we descend into the living room, the sight that greets us is, frankly, less than appropriate for a funeral.

Verona, ever the paragon of subtlety, has chosen an outfit that screams cocktail party more than solemn goodbye. Her neckline plunges with reckless abandon, inviting far too much attention. Alec stands beside her, looking every bit the reluctant participant in his somber suit, his expression bored.

Verona, you look … Flora pauses, searching for a word that wont start World War III, optimistic for todays proceedings.

Verona tosses her hair, clearly mistaking the funeral for a fashion show. One must always look their best, dear. You never know who you might meet.

Alec snickers, and I cant help but think, Yeah, maybe the Grim Reaper, if were lucky.

The funeral is set near the vineyards, a sprawling estate of grape-filled trees that have been in our family for generations. Plump, deep purple grapes gleam like jewels in the sunlight.

Its a crisp, clear day, the air filled with the sweet tang of grapes and the solemnity of the occasion.

As we gather around the grave, the priests voice fills the air, deep and sonorous, weaving through the rows of grapevines. His words are meant to comfort, but as I watch my fathers coffin being lowered into the earth, a tidal wave of sadness crashes over me. Its a strange sensation, mourning a man who was more an idea than a presence in my life.

Flora wraps an arm around my shoulders, her grip tight. I lean into her, grateful for her strength. At least Dads in a place he loved, she whispers, her voice laced with a humor thats as dry as the earth we stand on.

Yeah, I reply, choking back a sob. Surrounded by his beloved grapes.

As the ceremony concludes and people begin to disperse, I take a look at the people who have gathered to wish my father goodbye. Theres his lawyer, a few friends from his past, and … wait, what?

Caeleb.

Hes staring at me too.

Dont come over, I immediately think, as he begins doing just the opposite. He approaches me, a slow smile forming on his lips as he registers my presence.

If it isnt Emily Martin, he says, extending a large hand toward me.

I swallow the lump in the back of my throat and ignore Flora, whos giving me a very curious stare at the moment. Hi, Caeleb. Fancy seeing you here, at my dads funeral.

Caelebs brows furrow. In the meantime, two other men approach. Both of them are just as handsome, and together, they pretty much form the life of this ludicrous assembly.

I—I didnt realize you were Harveys daughter. Emily, were his best friends. This is Silas, and this is Finn.

Ah. Now I remember.

Conversations between these three and Dad from years ago flood back into my ears. I was too young to register their faces or remember them, but now that I do, heat rises to my cheeks.

I—

Theres a hasty cough behind me.

What now?

I turn, prepared to give the offender a piece of my mind. But instead, Dads lawyer and our old family friend, Uncle Clevens, offers me an apologetic, albeit owlish gaze. Im sorry to interrupt, child, but we have to go read your fathers will.

Right. Id forgotten about that.

To my surprise, he signals to the men as well. You lot are coming too, right?

They nod simultaneously.

Okay then, I say. I clearly have no idea whats going on, but this will hopefully be a short affair because Dad wouldnt have left me anything. Once its over, I can talk to Caeleb and find out more about, well … this.

Flora falls into step with me as we head toward the mansions parlor, where the will reading is to occur. Who are they? she asks me curiously, nodding at the men walking in front of us.

Dads best friends, I mutter evasively.

And whos that? she points a finger at Caeleb. And why did he look like hes totally got the hots for you?

Flo, I shush her. Not now.

Fine, she scowls. But Im asking you later.

Of course she will.

The will-reading feels like stepping into an alternate reality, one where expectations are flipped on their heads. Im half checked out already, my mind on a flight to somewhere bathed in perpetual sunshine, away from the cold shadows of family drama.

So, when Uncle Clevens starts detailing the assets left in my name, it feels like Im hearing things.

A portion of the vineyard, the estate, the house, and … he drones on, but Im stuck on the vineyard part. Our vineyard? The sprawling fields of grapevines that paint the horizon at dawn? Its surreal.

Flora gets a part of the vineyard too. But Dad has left me with more, and I have no idea why.

Then comes the kicker.

And now, Uncle Clevens finishes with an authoritative flourish, there is one last item that Harvey specifically requested be mentioned at this juncture. He pauses, perhaps for dramatic effect, or maybe to gauge our reactions.

Were all looking at him like hes going to explode.

He reaches into a folder, pulling out a sealed envelope, its surface unmarked but for my name written in my fathers familiar scrawl. This letter, he continues, holding it up just enough for everyone to see, was left for Emily. Harveys instructions were explicit that it be read by her, and her alone, in solitude.

A murmur ripples through the room, but I barely hear it. My focus narrows to the envelope in Uncle Clevenss hands.

If there are no further questions, he adds, his gaze sweeping over the gathered family members, I will conclude the reading of the will.

No one speaks. As Uncle Clevens hands me the envelope, our fingers brush briefly. Your father was very clear about his wishes, he says, meeting my eyes. Take your time with this.

I nod, the envelope now a weight in my hand, heavy with potential and the unknown. Thank you, I manage to say, my voice sounding far away.

Maybe when theres some peace, I can read the contents and see what Dad wanted.

But of course, peace is a foreign concept in this family saga.

What did he leave us? The mansion? Verona all but screeches, her impeccably sculpted eyebrows shooting so high they all but vanish from her face.

Uncle Clevens clears his throat uncomfortably.

Oh boy, this wont be good.

Ahem, Uncle Clevens coughs. I was hoping to discuss this discreetly with only those involved?—

Just say it, Verona hisses.

Since you put it that way … this mansion has been left to Emily, and her alone.

I suck in a breath. This is unfair. Why didnt Dad think of Flora? What was he?—

ARE YOU JOKING? Alec screeches. WHAT DO WE GET?

Ah— Uncle Clevens busies himself by scanning the papers once more. It so happens that he has left the both of you his prized collection of ceramic garden gnomes.

Oh boy.

Alecs jaw works soundlessly, his tanned face cycling through an impressive spectrum of disbelief. Verona, however, doesnt disappoint.

Garden gnomes? she hisses, her voice a venomous whisper. The man had atrocious taste!

A true representation of himself, perhaps? I offer with faux innocence.

You think youve won something here, she hisses. Landing a windfall from a man who barely acknowledged you in life.

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to retaliate. Im not here for the inheritance, Verona. I just want closure.

Her laugh is sharp, a shard of glass. Closure? Is that what theyre calling a hefty chunk of the estate these days?

I can feel the eyes of the remaining family members on us, a silent audience to our standoff. You think you can intimidate me into feeling guilty? I challenge, my voice stronger than I feel.

Oh shut up, Verona, a lazy voice remarks. Sit down. Youve caused enough grief to the dead man already.

I wheel toward the direction of the speaker. Its Finn.

Verona opens her mouth to speak but before she can unleash a scathing reply, Flora materializes beside me, a vision of sleek determination. You have five minutes, she announces, her tone deceptively calm, to gather your belongings and vacate the premises. Consider it a parting gift … though far less tacky than the gnomes.

Alec chokes out a strangled protest. You cant just?—

Actually, Flora interjects, raising a perfectly manicured finger, we can. Emily is the rightful owner, and lets just say your welcome here has worn rather thin. Her smile holds the sweetness of a shark.

Verona, with a final glare loaded with promises of legal retribution, sweeps toward the door. Alec trails behind her, clutching a pair of gnomes like bizarre talismans. The absurdity of the image nearly sends me into a fit of laughter.

As the door clicks shut behind them, Flora turns to me, a mischievous glint in her eye. Well, that was certainly entertaining. Now, she declares, lets see about redecorating this monstrosity once everyone leaves, shall we?

Im sorry, I say immediately. I have no idea why he left me the mansion.

Dont even, she says, slipping an arm around my shoulder. It doesnt matter. Now … about those men?—

Before she can finish talking, Caeleb reemerges, flanked by Finn and Silas. Even in this setting, I cant help noticing how striking they are.

Are you leaving? I ask.

Yes, he says, his eyes shadowed. But if its not a very big ask, I was hoping we could catch up later.

I swallow. Im supposed to fly back tomorrow.

His face falls. Oh. Okay.

Finn and Silas are also looking at me. Silas chuckles, his voice a warm baritone that makes me shiver. Thats really disappointing, he says. I was hoping we could all get together.

Floras eyes are burning holes in my head. She snorts. Well, I need to go out and clear my head, but you guys hang with my sister. Ill come back for updates.

Wait, Flo?—

Before I can finish, Flora artfully vanishes.

Then theres just the three of them and me. Theres something about them, something raw and powerful and wholly consuming.

One meeting? Caeleb ventures, his deep eyes lighting up as he looks at me.

I—

Dont push the lovely lady, Finn jokes lightly. His cerulean eyes look faintly amused. I blush harder.

Oh alright, Caeleb grumbles. See you later then, Emily.

The men fold their arms in unison, muscles standing out, glinting in the late afternoon sun.

Oh, they look like sin.

Their profiles are infuriatingly distracting. And my heart, well—it makes me do something hasty, thats not my style. But I cant help it.

Wait, I call after them as they begin striding toward the exit. I—Im staying. For a week.