CHAPTER 3
A collective gasp swept through the crowd of nearly two hundred guests standing along the dusty roadside.
Samantha sank onto the hood of a nearby black sedan, her face pale white as the harsh reality began to break through her denial.
"This is ridiculous!" Greg’s mother, Eleanor, shrieked while adjusting her diamond necklace. "We paid for caterers! We flew in family from Greenwich, Connecticut!"
"Correction, ma'am," Ben offered politely, looking over his clipboard with unbothered composure. "Mrs. Collins paid for those vendors, and as of ten o'clock this morning, she personally canceled every service contract."
"What about Willow Creek House?" Greg demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. "The key! She gave us the key to the guest house last week! The deed transfer was supposed to be processed after the ceremony!"
"The locks were changed two hours ago, Mr. Montgomery," Ben replied. "And the deed transfer papers were permanently destroyed by Mrs. Collins's legal council at noon."
Richard Montgomery stepped forward, pulling a gold pen from his pocket as if he could fix the entire disaster with a checkbook.
"Tell Andrea to open these gates immediately," Richard growled, his voice dropping into a harsh, threatening whisper. "I will pay double whatever cancellation fee she incurred. Name her price."
Ben smiled softly, a slow, knowing expression that had been earned through thirty years of working alongside my late husband, Michael.
"You don't understand Napa Valley, sir," Ben said quietly. "Andrea Collins doesn't have a price, and your money means absolutely nothing on this ridge."
May you like
He turned on his heel and walked back toward his truck, leaving the entire wedding party stranded in the California sun.
Within minutes, the first catering trucks arrived, but instead of setting up tables, they executed sharp U-turns and drove away, executing their direct orders to return to San Francisco.
