Chapter 2

The second I hung up, there were two knocks at the door.

Before I could answer, Leonardo pushed it open and set a glass of orange juice on my desk.

"Turns out family can get through to you better than a meeting."

He glanced at the dark screen and pulled out a chair.

"Since you're not willing to cooperate yet, we'll just have to go by company rules."

He slid a list of expenses under the glass of orange juice.

"This office is going to be a VIP reception room. You're only here a few days a year. No point letting it sit empty.

"As of today, the car and driver go back to the admin department. The driver has other jobs and can't sit around waiting to take you to the beach."

He picked up the company card from the corner of the desk.

"This gets cut off too."

I stared at the card in his hand.

"Anything else you want to take?"

"Don't look at me like that." He slipped the card into his wallet. "These estates keep a lot of people fed. The money they work hard to earn isn't yours to play with.

"If you want to stay, that's fine too. Marco can find you a job."

I looked over the list.

VIP cars, hospitality meals, uniforms, and even my father's old bookcase had all been listed as "unnecessary expenses."

His new sports car wasn't on the list.

"Your VIPs need to read my father's books?"

"They need a setting with some family history."

He said it like it was obvious.

"It's brand value. You wouldn't understand."

I stood up and pulled my father's harvest journal from the bottom shelf.

The cover was worn through, and wine stains had soaked into the pages.

Leonardo saw it and laughed.

"Go ahead and take that old thing. I'll have the rest of your personal stuff sent to your new place."

"What new place?"

"You'll see when you get there."

He walked to the door and held it open for me.

Out in the hallway, the driver was handing his car keys to someone from the admin department. When he saw me, he straightened up, then glanced at Leonardo.

"Ms. Vitale..."

"Go on, get back to work," Leonardo answered before I could. "She won't need the car today."

The driver lowered his head.

I walked out of headquarters with the journal in my arms and called a cab.

The cab wound up the hill through the vineyards. At the last bend, I asked the driver to slow down.

When I was little, every time my father drove past this spot, he had me count the olive trees in front of the gate. He'd tell me one was missing and wait until I was frantically recounting before he laughed and drove into the courtyard.

This time, the gate was crowded with trucks.

The old wooden doors were leaning against the wall, and the family crest had been taken down. Workers were putting up a new sign where it used to hang.

The Rinaldi Tasting House.

I paid the fare. As I reached the bottom of the steps, two workers came out carrying a wooden crate.

My father's crystal decanter lay on its side on top, its long, slender neck sticking out over the edge and swaying with every step.

"Wait."

I hurried forward.

One of them sidestepped a cart, and the crate lurched.

The decanter slid off and smashed on the stone steps.

I heard the sharp crack and ran the rest of the way up.

It lay shattered at my feet.

My father had it made the year I was born, with my birthday engraved on the bottom. When I was little, I didn't know what it was for, so I kept tiny fish from the pond in it.

He didn't have the heart to scold me. He just put the fish back and told me to save it for when I grew up.

The ring of numbers that made up my birth date lay shattered at my feet.

"Why'd you stop? The designer's coming to look at the space this afternoon."

Leonardo came out of the courtyard with his jacket over his arm and a pair of white gloves on his hands.

He saw me and paused.

"You got here fast."

I crouched and picked up the shard with my birthday on it.

"That was my father's."

"You'll get a better one."

He waved at the workers.

"Move the rest of it. You're blocking the way."

As the crate passed me, I saw my father's carved wine chest at the bottom, crushed under a pile of lamp bases, its clasp already broken.

I stood up.

"Where's it going?"

"Storage, or the dump. The designer will decide."

"Who said you could remodel my house?"

Leonardo glanced at the sign going up.

"Beatrice made that decision herself. She wants to host all of this year's important guests here.

"Your father closed so many deals here. Turning it into a tasting house is the only way to keep it from going to waste."

He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and held them out to me.

The smallest one had a blue plastic tag with an apartment number on it.

"Your place. It's in the lower part of town. It has its own kitchen, windows overlooking the street, and shops a few minutes' walk away.

"Rent's paid for six months. Don't ever say we don't take care of you."

Two workers nearby slowed down.

One of them asked under his breath, "So that's old Vitale's daughter?"

"Heard she doesn't work. Just collects the money."

"No wonder. Can't you tell who's really in charge now?"

Leonardo heard them but didn't stop them. He just stared at the shard in my hand.

"Put that down. If you cut your hand, everyone's going to have to drop everything again."

The shard pressed a white line into my palm.

I didn't let go.

"This house doesn't belong to the operating company. Beatrice can't just remodel it whenever she feels like it."

Leonardo pulled a sheet of paper from the folder he carried.

"That's why we had your aunt sign an authorization."

I would know my aunt's signature anywhere. She always drew out the last letter.

The page listed repairs, interior renovation, and conversion for hospitality use.

There were more pages behind it, but he kept those in the folder.

"Her power of attorney only covers routine maintenance."

"That's between you and your aunt."

He took the page back.

"We have her signature, and the workers are just following instructions. If you want to make an issue of it, you can go have a nice long talk with her."

I looked up at the two guards inside the gate. They could see Leonardo blocking my way, but neither of them came over.

Leonardo stepped closer and pressed the keys into the hand holding the shard.

The keys pushed the glass into my palm until it hurt.

"Hang on to those. A girl living on her own shouldn't stay out too late."

I looked at him.

He let go and waited for me to put the keys away.