Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

“So show me the vineyard,” she eventually says, breaking through the quiet. “You’ve been talking about this place for years. I’m gonna call you back on FaceTime because I want to see everything.”

I laugh as the phone goes black and then lights up again, then I’m grinning from ear to ear when I see Vivian’s beautiful face on my screen.

“All right! Show me everything. And I mean everything.”

I flip the camera around and show her the view from where I’m sitting.

“Daaaaaaang, girl. I need to plan a trip up to wine country.”

I take her on a phone tour of the area fairly close to the house, showing her the vines and the house and then walking her out to the bench so she can see an even more killer view overlooking not only our vineyard, but most of Rosewood.

The entire time, she oohs and aahs and makes comments about how amazing everything is.

It’s a relief, talking to V.

She was the one true friend I made during the years I lived in LA. The one honest, good soul who I’m going to miss.

As much as I enjoy talking to her, there’s something bittersweet about it. Because it’s a reminder that I don’t have anyone here to talk with. To tell my secrets to.

When I finally make it back to the porch and we say our goodbyes, I stare at my phone for a long moment, wishing not for the first time that I could change … well, anything. I wish I could change anything.

But that’s not how life works.

“Who were you talking to?”

I startle at the sound of Memphis’s voice.

“God, you scared me,” I reply, my hand coming to my chest again.

I didn’t realize I could be so easily startled. First Vivian’s call, now Memphis?

“Who were you talking to?” he asks again, leaning against a post and crossing his arms.

I roll my eyes, wishing he’d learn how to not be such a stern stick-in-the-mud from time to time. “A friend,” I answer. “Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Just wondering.”

And then he walks off back into the house where I assume he came from.

I make a face after he’s gone, though it immediately makes me feel like I’m ten years old. I’ve never understood why Memphis is so … inflexible. He’s like a brick wall sometimes, and I wish he’d be like a tree instead. Still strong and firm, but able to bend and move with the wind.

When my eyes fall to the papers I have stacked on the patio table, I’m reminded of what I was working on before my aunt Sarah sat down a little while ago.

And the fact that I actually need to talk to my brother.

So I snatch everything up and go racing into the house, finding him just as he’s settling into his desk chair in his office.

“Do you have a minute?” I walk in and sit in the chair across from him. “I wanted to talk to you about the staffing rotation.”

“Look, if it’s too much work you can probably ask Wes to—”

“Memphis.”

My brother stops speaking at my interruption.

Seriously, the guy needs to learn how to not make assumptions.

“Thank you. What I was going to say is that I’ve finished putting together a preliminary concept for staffing, as well as a potential training schedule. Of course, this is dependent upon being able to hire for several different positions in the next week.”