Читать книгу Moonlight and Roses - Jackie Braun - Страница 6

JAYE MONROE didn’t consider herself the sort of woman to swoon, but as she sat with her stepmother in the stuffy office, listening to the lawyer read the contents of Frank Monroe’s will, she definitely felt light-headed.

Not only was her beloved father gone, but he’d left their Leelanau County vineyard, along with its winery and tasting room, in the sole possession of his second wife of seven years rather the daughter who had toiled by his side for the past nine to help make the Medallion label an up-and-coming success.

Upon hearing this, Margaret sent Jaye a spiteful grin, but the older woman’s glee didn’t last long.

The lawyer was saying, “As for the house, the collection of original eighteenth-century artwork and all of the antique furnishings with the exception of those found in the master bedroom suite, Frank wanted you to have those, Jaye.”

“What?” both women shouted simultaneously.

Jaye straightened in her seat. Her stepmother slumped sideways.

“Mrs. Monroe?” the lawyer said, rising partway from his chair. “Are you all right?”

Jaye knew Margaret wasn’t the sort to swoon, either, but the older woman certainly enjoyed attention and had a flair for the dramatic.

“Water,” Margaret murmured, her heavily made-up eyelids flickering. “I need water.”

“What about you, Miss Monroe?” the lawyer asked. “Can I get you anything?”

Jaye considered requesting a shot of something potent to numb the pain and outrage she was experiencing, but she shook her head.

When he returned, she said in as steady a voice as she could manage, “This can’t be right, Mr. Danielson. You must have read that part backward. Dad wouldn’t leave the vineyard to Margaret. She doesn’t want it any more than I want a house filled with old paintings and gaudy antiques.”

“I paid good money for those old paintings and gaudy antiques,” Margaret snapped, apparently having recovered from her near collapse.

“Yes, you enjoyed spending my father’s money on anything that caught your eye.”

“He was my husband, so it was my money to spend,” the older woman retorted. Then she slumped back in her seat again. “I loved that man. What will I do without him?”

“Ladies, please.” Jonas Danielson raised a bony hand to silence them. “I’m sorry, Miss Monroe, Mrs. Monroe. I know this must come as a shock to both of you, but this is what Frank stipulated in the will he had drawn up just prior to his death last month.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Jaye persisted. “I have my own house, my own furniture.” All of which leaned toward the contemporary. “Dad and I built Medallion together. He can’t have intended to pull the rug out from under me this way.”

Mr. Danielson retrieved a couple of papers from a folder and handed one to Jaye and one to Margaret. “Perhaps this will help clarify the matter for you.”

It was the photocopy of a letter. Jaye recognized her father’s scratchy cursive immediately, and her heart began to race. The letter began: “Dear Margaret and Juliet.”

Juliet. Her father only used Jaye’s given name when she was in trouble, and boy was she ever, she realized, as she continued to read the words he’d penned.

I know that the two of you have never been close, which is a pity since neither of you really has anyone else. I want the two women I love the most in this world to look after each other and to work together after I’m gone. I think this is a good way to ensure that you will.

Juliet, Margaret will need help with Medallion’s daily operations. Margaret, I know you’ve never taken an interest in the vineyard, but you are a bright and capable woman. I think you will be an asset. In the meantime, I’m sure Juliet will allow you to reside in the house as always, and I ask that you allow Juliet to continue as head vintner at the winery. There’s no one I trust more to ensure the label’s quality and success.

I love you both and it saddens me to leave you. My only comfort is in knowing that you will have each other to lean on. Please, be good to each other.

Jaye traced his signature at the bottom of the page and then glanced over at Margaret, who was still busy reading, if the movement of her lips was any indication.

Be good to each other.

Jaye bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. He might as well have asked them to flap their arms and fly. The two women had never been friends. Oh, they could manage to be cordial when the circumstances required it. On holidays, for instance, they sat together at the dinner table and exchanged polite small talk. But when it came right down to it, Jaye found the older woman vacuous and self-centered. Margaret was no fonder of Jaye, whom she’d often labeled as outspoken and a tomboy.

No, the women were not friends. They had tolerated each other for Frank’s sake. Now that he was gone so was all pretense, as Margaret’s next words made clear.

“I’m hiring my own lawyer. This is ridiculous.” She stood, crumpled up the letter and tossed it onto the lawyer’s desk. “Everything should be mine! I’m sure a judge will agree. I was his wife.”

“Of seven years.” Jaye stood as well. “I’m his daughter of nearly thirty. Yes, I can see how giving you everything, even the vineyard that you’ve never stepped foot in, would be fair.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “He loved me. That still kills you, doesn’t it?”

Jaye ignored the question, partly because it was true. Of all the women in the world for her father to marry, why did it have to be a silly bit of arm candy like Margaret?

“I’ll hire a lawyer, too,” she vowed. “We’ll see who ends up with what.”

“Ladies, ladies,” Mr. Danielson pleaded. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do? Litigation could take months, years. It will be draining emotionally, not to mention financially. Why not compromise? The solution in this matter seems obvious. If you don’t want the vineyard,” he said to Margaret, “and you don’t want the house and its furnishings,” his gaze moved to Jaye, “then perhaps you can make arrangements to transfer ownership?”

“That sounds reasonable,” Jaye allowed.

But Margaret was shaking her head, her expression far more shrewd than vacuous now. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “All of that acreage would fetch a pretty price in this real estate market, especially without a bunch of damned grapes growing on it.”

Jaye knew a moment of true horror. She wouldn’t put it past her stepmother to sell the vineyard’s prime property to the highest bidder. “I’ll give you everything my father left me, plus a fair sum.”

“Will you now?” Margaret’s smile bloomed.

“Yes. This was Dad’s dream, Margaret. The vineyard represents all of his years of hard work.” And mine, Jaye thought. And mine. “Promise me that you won’t sell Medallion to a developer.”

Margaret studied Jaye for a long moment before finally nodding. Still, Jaye didn’t quite trust the gleam in her eye. “Okay, Jaye. You’re right. This was Frank’s dream. So, I promise you that I won’t sell it to a developer.”

And she didn’t. Five months later, after Jaye had accepted an offer for her beachfront home and was busily scraping together the rest of the down payment for the vineyard, Margaret sold the Medallion Winery to a California vintner.