Page 15

Sebastian beams. There’s no doubt he’s completely enthralled with his wife. He almost lost her once. I, for one, am glad he got his shit together. “There are worse things you could have to do to get access to a trust.”

“Really? Worse than a year of playing house to gain access to what? A million dollars?” I blurt. “That will be gone in no time. Have you seen the stack of unpaid invoices on the desk back there?” I thumb toward the office. “And that’s before I tackle the obvious.” I gaze above.

Drip.

Drip.

Sebastian lets out a low whistle, the sound echoing off the peeling wallpaper. “Still. You could do a lot to this place with a mil. And if my math is right, I’d bet he likely left far more than that. Otherwise, he would’ve known it wouldn’t be worth having to get married to access it. He wasn’t stupid, Sam. He knows you would’ve said ‘hell no’ if there wasn’t a big enough upside.”

I run my fingers through my hair. He’s right.

“If only you could find a wife.” Sebastian chuckles.

“Hey.” I wave my hands up and down my body dramatically. “What are you trying to say?”

“Sure, you aren’t a bad-looking, younger version of me. But you have a reputation. And it’s not exactly screaming Hallmark romance.” He’s probably right. Not about the younger version of him. But I’ve never tried to act like someone I’m not. And I’ve never been the matrimonial type.

“Finding a wife isn’t the problem.” I snort, rubbing my temples where a tension headache is beginning to bloom. “It’s keeping one. Hell, I don’t think I’ve managed a girlfriend for more than six weeks. And that was in college.” I huff.

I lean back, the chair groaning under my weight. “But don’t think I haven’t given it a great deal of thought.” My gaze bounces around the space, particularly the empty barstools. I guess I need to give it a lot more consideration if I want a chance at fixing this. “Hopefully, it’s a nonissue. Just a rumor Mom started to have me scared enough to consider selling.”

Sebastian leans against the tasting bar, his expression uncharacteristically grim. “Sam, we have absolutely no idea whether there’s a trust or if these are all tall tales Mom has invented to keep you in her clutches. You need to reach out to Dad’s lawyer, Aaron Sterling. Do not use the firm Mother uses.”

“Why?”

“Why? I wouldn’t trust a damn thing she says. That selfish shrew would never disclose that you had access to funds if she could find a way to keep them to herself.” Sebastian’s face is so red I’m worried he might give himself an aneurysm. “And I wouldn’t put it past her to pay her lawyers to keep their mouths shut about anything you could benefit from. Get the facts for yourself. Especially if you insist on saving this place on your own.”

He’s right. And I absolutely need to manage this myself. Not only would it ruin the relationship with my brother, but the downward spiral that might ensue at accepting I’ll never amount to anything is terrifying.

For the first time in my life, I have a passion project that speaks to me. It’s forcing me to do things differently. It feels good envisioning I could restore this place to what it once was in its prime. That I could make my grandfather proud and create a successful life for myself.

“I might be able to help with the ‘profitable’ part of that equation indirectly,” Sebastian says, pulling me out of my head. “I’m making Sutter Creek the sole winery for all gallery events at Mosaic this season. I’ve already written it into the contracts. Any booked events must use your wine service, or they find another gallery.”

I look up, a genuine spark of hope hitting my chest. Sebastian retired from medicine and opened an art gallery. The place has been wildly popular since the day it opened. But that could just as easily be thanks to the brilliantly gifted creations of his son, Austin, as much as him. “Thanks, man. That’ll be a big help.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You still have to provide the wine. Just try not to let me down. I’d hate to see events canceled if the word got out that the vino was crap.”

I wince. We haven’t had a great year in a long while. But we still have plenty of wine on reserve. And this season still has the potential to be quite good. “I feel good about the wine, just wish I had a lot more of it.” For the first time today, I’m feeling a tad optimistic. “Business was terrible when I started here. It’s still bad, don’t get me wrong, but things are slowly starting to pick up. The feedback on the new blends has been promising. I just need to stay positive and keep moving ahead.”

Sebastian nods, but his gaze lingers on the bucket catching the leak in the corner. “Just keep Sterling’s number handy, Sam. Ambition is great, but even the best captain can’t steer a sinking ship.”

I look at the bucket.

Drip.

Drip.

He’s right. I need to call that lawyer. I glance down at my ridiculously overpriced wristwatch. I can probably get almost forty thousand for this thing. Might at least take care of an emergency or two.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

There’s no way around this. I’ll do anything at this point. Even if that marriage clause is more than simply a bad rumor.

Chapter Eight