Judith’s heart tightened.
“When?”
“Last week. She said investors would never respect me if I kept letting you make decisions.”
“You let her say that?”
“I told her she might be right.”
The silence that followed was not cruel. It was simply honest.
Judith walked to the window.
Beyond the glass, rows of vines ran down the hill, dark and shining beneath the rain. Samuel had planted the first row by hand. Judith had carried stones away from the soil until her palms blistered. Jacob had taken his first steps between those vines.
The vineyard had witnessed their entire family.
It had also witnessed every lie.
“I want to sell it,” Jacob said.
Judith turned.
He stood near the desk, the blue folder open before him.
“I mean it. I don’t want it anymore. I thought I did, but I only wanted to prove I could keep what Dad started. Maybe I never asked whether it was still what we needed.”
Judith crossed the room.
“Do you want to sell because you are tired, or because you think you don’t deserve it?”
He looked at her.
“Both.”
“Then you are not ready to decide.”
He released a shaky breath.
“What should I do?”
“Work.”
His brow furrowed.
“Not as the owner. Not as my son. As someone who needs to learn what the land asks for.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes.”
He nodded.
“I’ll do it.”
“Without Amanda’s money.”
“Yes.”
