They Stole My Vineyards, Then Told Me to Live on a Budget

"Adelia, sign here."

Leonardo pressed a fountain pen against the last page of the document, its nib resting on my name.

"This is a family arrangement. No need to act like we're negotiating with strangers."

Both sides of the long table were packed with people from sales, operations, and finance. Even the two old stewards who had looked after the family's estates for years had come.

Beatrice's guards stood outside the door.

I moved the pen aside and turned back to the first page.

Voting Proxy and Revenue Adjustment Agreement.

The title sounded harmless. The terms went straight for my shares.

The income from my 70 percent stake in the operating company would be replaced with a fixed allowance. My voting rights would go to a management committee controlled by Beatrice and her husband.

The term of the proxy: 20 years.

I was 26.

"So when I'm 46, you'll teach me how to be independent all over again?"

Leonardo smiled and picked up the pen.

Platinum glinted at his shirt cuff, matching the pen.

"See, there you go again, assuming the worst.

"Beatrice is renegotiating the partnership on the island. The people who work for her need to know who they answer to.

"They can't be the ones sweating and taking the risks while you get the biggest cut forever just because your last name is Vitale."

I turned to Beatrice and waited for her to say something.

She picked up her coffee and didn't correct him.

"In your father's day, a few people around a table could make the decisions. It's different now.

"We have 11 estates, distributors, workers, and everyone who does business with the family. You can't stay out of sight forever and still expect them to listen to you."

She lowered her voice to the gentle tone she'd used to coax me when I was little.

"Sign it, and you can still live in the big house and pick whatever wine you like. I'll keep the rest of the world off your back."

I pressed a finger to the line that said "20 years."

"My father asked you to run the estates. He didn't make you his heir."

Paola Greco shifted in her chair and spoke first.

"Of course we respect Mr. Vitale. But for 20 years, it wasn't his last name haggling with buyers over prices. It was Beatrice.

"She drank so much to keep some of our biggest clients that she ended up in the hospital. Every time you come back, you don't even ask how the harvest is going. You just have someone bring a bottle out to the terrace.

"Now we're asking you to give a little. Is that so hard?"

Marco Bassi picked up where she left off.

"All we want is to know who the boss is."

Marco glanced at Beatrice and added, "A boss who actually gets things done."

Listening to Paola and Marco, I remembered that my father had paid Paola's tuition and Marco's father's medical bills.

The two old stewards had worked the estates with my father when they were young. On holidays, they used to bring me almond cookies.

Today, not one of them would stand up for me.

Beatrice set her cup back on its saucer.

"Don't be so hard on her. She's still young."

With Beatrice pleading my case like that, it almost sounded as if I really had done something wrong.

I pushed the document back in front of Leonardo.

"I'm not signing."

No one said anything right away.

One of the guards outside shifted his weight, his leather shoe scraping the stone floor.

Leonardo capped the pen and shook his head with a sigh.

"That's enough for today. Don't push her."

Once Leonardo was on his feet, the others started pushing back their chairs one by one.

They walked around me. Not one of them waited for me to leave first, the way they used to.

Beatrice was the last to rise.

She leaned down and tucked back a strand of hair that had fallen against my cheek.

"Don't sulk over something this small. I'll talk to your aunt."

I turned my head, and her hand met only air.

She didn't get angry. She just smiled and walked out.

The next morning, my aunt video-called me.

She was sitting by the window of her country house with a thin blanket over her knees.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"Fine. You?"

"Same as always."

She smiled, but her hand kept fidgeting with the corner of the blanket. I waited for her to get to the point.

"Beatrice told me. She said you got upset at the meeting and wouldn't even pick up the pen."

"Aunt Rosa, have you read that agreement?"

"No. She said it's just a management change, so the people working for us can feel secure."

My aunt leaned closer to the camera.

"She's only just married, and her husband's willing to help. We have to let him save face. We can't have people saying he married into the Vitale family and doesn't even get a say in his own wife's affairs."

I watched her hand working at the corner of the blanket.

After my father died, she was the one who straightened the collar of my nightgown and carried me to the funeral.

The men who came to pay their respects lined up to kiss my forehead, then turned around and argued in the hallway over who would take over the estates. My aunt threw every one of them out and sat with me until dawn.

"He married Beatrice," I said. "Not my estates."

My aunt frowned.

"Child, why do you always have to draw a line between what's yours and what's hers?

"She's looked after things for us for 20 years. Other girls got to worry about picking out wedding dresses. She had to deal with difficult clients. We can't think only about what's ours and forget how hard she worked."

"I've always paid her a generous management fee and given her shares."

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't make a fuss."

Her voice softened.

"Your father died so young. My biggest fear has always been that you'd have no one you could trust.

"Listen to me, just this once. Sign it. She'll take care of you."

I thought of her sitting up with me until dawn after my father's funeral, and my chest felt tight.

Beatrice didn't need to come talk to me herself.

Now that my aunt had asked, saying no would hurt her instead.

I moved my water glass aside.

"Aunt Rosa, just take care of yourself. I'll handle the paperwork."

She wanted to say more, but I'd already ended the call.