His eyes softened when they met hers.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
Jacob released Judith’s wrist as though her skin had burned him. She stepped away from him, folding the first page back along its crease.
Amanda looked from one man to the other.
“Who is he?”
Daniel placed the second envelope on the nearest table.
“Your husband’s father’s attorney.”
Jacob’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Amanda’s expression hardened. “Samuel Emerson died twelve years ago.”
“I know,” Daniel replied. “I attended the burial. I drafted his final will. I watched your husband sign every page.”
Judith’s gaze dropped to the envelope. Samuel’s handwriting appeared across the front, uneven and familiar.
For Jacob Emerson. To be opened in the presence of your mother.
Jacob took one step toward it.
Amanda caught his sleeve.
“Jacob, don’t.”
He looked at her hand.
It was the first time all evening he seemed to notice how tightly she held him.
Daniel reached into his case and removed a small recorder. “Before anyone opens anything, I need to say this plainly. Samuel did not leave this vineyard to Amanda. He did not authorize a sale, a transfer, or a loan against it. The deed belongs to Judith Emerson. It has belonged to her since the day Samuel died.”
The manager lowered his head.
A murmur moved through the guests.
Amanda laughed, but the sound broke at the edges. “That’s impossible. Jacob signed the transfer papers.”
“Jacob signed a request for a valuation,” Daniel said. “Not a transfer.”
Jacob turned sharply. “What?”
Amanda’s fingers slipped from his sleeve.
Daniel continued, “Three weeks ago, someone submitted a forged authorization bearing Jacob’s signature. It instructed the county office to move ownership from Judith Emerson to Emerson Vineyards Holdings, a company incorporated six days earlier.”
Judith looked at her son.
Jacob’s face had gone white.
“Amanda,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
The venue manager finally stepped forward. His name was Martin Bell, and the color had drained from his cheeks.
