CHAPTER 5
By six o'clock that evening, the road outside Collins Ridge was finally silent, save for the occasional passing pickup truck from neighboring vineyards.
I walked down to the edge of the property where Ben was finishing the evening rounds along the perimeter fence.
"They went to the St. Helena Resort," Ben reported, wiping sweat from his forehead with a blue bandanna. "Greg tried to rent their grand ballroom on three hours' notice, but they didn't have the staff."
"Did Samantha go with them?" I asked softly, my heart aching slightly despite my firm resolve.
"She did," Ben nodded grimly. "Though she spent most of the time sitting in the back of her car crying while Greg's father blamed her for the entire disaster."
"Of course he did," I said. "People like the Montgomerys always look for someone else to pay the bill when their plans collapse."
We stood in silence for a few moments, watching the sun dip behind the Mayacamas Mountains, painting the sky in deep shades of gold and purple.
"What's the next move, Andrea?" Ben asked, looking at me with decades of deep respect. "Greg still has his eyes on the estate. He won't give up an eight-million-dollar property easily."
"He doesn't have a choice," I stated firmly. "Tomorrow morning, Arthur is filing a formal revocation of all preliminary estate trusts involving Samantha."
May you like
Ben let out a low whistle. "She was set to inherit sixty percent of the winery operations upon your passing."
"Then it's time she learns what it actually takes to earn something in this life," I said, turning back toward the house. "Inheritance is a privilege reserved for those who respect the ground their parents bled for."
