Chapter 10 Grace Newman

Two Years, Seventy-Five Acres, and Complete Confusion

The Week Before the Wedding

I watch the footage again just to be certain I heard what I thought I heard.

My new routine each morning is fast-forwarding through any footage taken the previous night on the new cameras to see whether Amelia and Drew showed up again, and so far…nada. Apparently they're more comfortable doing it at her place—or his—since Spencer isn't around to catch them.

I watch as Drew walks into my office, but this time he's by himself.

I watch as he rifles through the papers on top of my desk.

I watch as he tries the drawers, but they're all locked.

"Did you find anything?" I hear Amelia's voice before I see her on the screen.

"All the drawers are locked. Do you have a key?"

Amelia shakes her head as she walks into my office.

"Dammit. How will we find out if she knows?" Amelia asks.

Drew shrugs. "No idea. But if you marry me , then you'll get the vineyard. "

"I guess that's our only option at this point." She sighs as she folds her arms across her chest.

"Don't forget that special clause in there about great-grandchildren," Drew says.

"I know, I know. An additional seventy-five acres near Temecula. I don't know if I even want kids, but for seventy-five acres…that's some prime real estate right there."

Seventy-five acres in Temecula? What the hell is she talking about?

"Look, I know I don't have the kind of money you would've gotten after two years of being married to that jock, but we have something better, Amelia. We have love," Drew says.

She snorts. "Right. Love. Speaking of which, want to go back to your place and have sex?"

"We could just do it in here again," he suggests.

"Ew, no. It smells like Gracie." She turns so she's facing the camera she doesn't know is capturing her every word—not to mention every facial expression—and she wrinkles her nose. "No thanks."

Drew follows her out, and the light turns off. I feel like I have some detective work to do, but I don't want anyone to know I'm digging. And I don't know where to dig. Or how. Or who to question.

Still…she mentioned seventy-five acres in Temecula, great-grandchildren, and marriage—possibly for at least two years. And a plan to be married to that jock for two years.

Is there some secret clause of Nana's that says whoever gets married first gets the vineyard?

This place is called Newlywed Vineyard, and I feel like Nana is just eccentric enough to come up with some sort of test to decide who she'll will the family vineyard to.

How about the responsible one? How about the one who has dreamed of running it since she was a child? How about the one who loves wine instead of the one who won't take a single sip because she hates the taste and opts for rum instead?

Just a thought .

And if there is a clause like that…how did Amelia find out about it? And not just that, but was she only with Spencer for his money?

God, if that's true…what a horrible, awful, evil person she is.

These are all things I intend to find out, but considering it's been three months since I discovered Amelia was cheating on Spencer and I still haven't figured out why, I'm not banking on my detective skills.

In my defense, I've been busy doing my job. It's April now, and spring break was madness as the vineyard was busier than it's been in ages. Spencer and I touch base often, and I offered him a bottle of celebratory malbec the next time he's in town after hearing the news that he signed with the San Diego Storm.

But truth be told…I'm sad.

I'm sad he won't be with the Vikings anymore.

I'm sad he isn't coming around here like he used to.

I'm sad we've drifted apart over the last few months.

He dumped Amelia, and I don't blame him for staying away from here, especially given how things ended.

But I feel like I lost my only friend.

Everyone around here is either a colleague or a relative. I live on a vineyard in the middle of nowhere, which isn't exactly conducive to forming friendships. I'm good at being personable with whoever's visiting the tasting room, but it's not like visitors turn into friends. They come, taste some wine, buy a few bottles, and leave.

Several Minneapolis stores carry our label now, too, so patrons don't even have to come back here to snag a bottle of their favorite merlot or rosé. It makes for fewer repeat visitors even though it makes for a nicer figure on the bottom line.

Maybe I need to get out of here for a while. I could even get an apartment in Minneapolis and commute to work.

But this is home. It's been home my entire life. And I'm not going to allow Amelia to snatch it out from under my nose because she found out about some unwritten technicality.

I need to learn more about this. It seems like what she knows is hazy at best .

It takes me a few days to gear up for this conversation, in part because I'm extra busy over the weekend with the biggest wedding we've hosted.

But I know I have to ask the only person at the vineyard I can trust with anything I say.

It's Tuesday morning when I take a walk from the mansion over to the production facility.

I knock tentatively on my dad's office door.

"Hey, Gigi," he says absently, glancing up from some paperwork on his desk as he pulls his glasses off. He sets them on his desk and rubs his eyes. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?"

He nods. "Always."

I close his office door and plop into the chair across from him. "What are Nana's plans with this place once she decides to let it go?"

He shrugs and offers one of those secret smiles that tells me he at least has an idea about her plans.

"What aren't you telling me?" I demand.

"She mentioned an idea, but I've never actually seen it in writing. And I was sworn to absolute secrecy."

"If I guess the plan, can you confirm it?" I ask.

He thinks about that for a beat, and then he seems to come to a decision. "I suppose that wouldn't be breaking my promise to Mom."

"Is she handing the vineyard down to whichever of her grandchildren stays married for two years?"

He looks surprised that I know. He neither confirms nor denies my hunch, instead asking, "How'd you find out?"

"Is there a secondary clause that if a great-grandchild is produced in that marriage, there's a bonus vineyard in Temecula?"

His brows knit together. "You know about Newman Vineyard?"

"I didn't until you just confirmed it." I fold my arms across my chest. "Do you really think Amelia should be getting it? You really weren't going to tell me? "

"Gracie-bug, you know I couldn't tell you. Nana just wanted it to be fair, and since neither Jimmy nor I was married when she decided she was ready to pass it down, she chose to give it to whichever one of you gets married first. But it's not two years, it's only one. She'll sign over the deed to you on your one-year anniversary. Now can you tell me how you found out?"

"That camera you installed in my office. Drew and Amelia were in there talking, and somehow she knows," I say flatly.

"She knows?" he asks.

"Drew said something about her only marrying Spencer for his money. She was going to divorce him after two years and keep his money. Win-win for her. She gets the vineyard and Spencer's money."

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "But that wedding is off, right? So there's nothing to worry about. You know now, so maybe we just…I don't know, be honest with Mom that you both know so she can come up with another way."

"Is the great-grandchild thing true, too?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Sort of. I haven't read her will. I can't bring myself to do it, but there are a number of secondary conditions, one being if one of you produces a great-grandchild, I think. But she didn't want either of you to know. She wanted the wedding and children to happen naturally."

An idea forms in my head.

It's crazy.

It's a complete longshot.

It's wild and impulsive.

It's all the things I'm not.

And somehow…I immediately know I have to give it a try. I'll spend the rest of my life regretting it if I don't.

"I have to go," I say. "Don't tell Nana I know." I dart out of the office and over to my bungalow to set this plan into action.