Chapter 3

In September, the first grapes came in.

As always, the harvest banquet was held at the first estate.

My father had set the rule: it would be held outside the old press house, and a Vitale would raise the first glass, so every guest would know who was responsible for the land.

The chair at the head of the table had been my father's, then my aunt's.

Once I came of age, it was mine for eight years.

This year, my name was at the very last table.

Right next to the side door to the kitchen.

When I walked into the courtyard, Beatrice, in a long dark red dress, sat in my father's old seat with Leonardo on her right.

The people at the head table saw me, then looked over at the place card with my name on it by the side door.

Nobody said a word.

My aunt had come too.

She'd been seated at another table and was happily praising the decorations. As I passed, she tugged at my hand.

"Don't make a scene today. Everyone's here."

"Do you know where they put me?" I asked her.

She glanced at the side door across the courtyard and hesitated.

"You've never liked socializing anyway, have you? A quieter spot might be nice."

I let go of her hand and went to my seat.

When I pulled out my chair, there was still a dish towel hanging over the back.

A waiter rushed over to grab it. I took it off myself and handed it to him.

He mumbled an apology.

At the head table, glasses were already going up.

Beatrice didn't call me over.

She was pouring from the first vintage my father ever laid down, a black silk ribbon tied around the neck of the bottle.

"To this year's harvest."

She looked out over the crowded courtyard.

"And to all our friends who are willing to keep moving forward with Leonardo and me."

Chairs scraped as people stood.

Paola was the first on her feet, and Marco started clapping. The men at the head table clinked glasses, and even the guards at the courtyard entrance gave Beatrice a slight bow.

I held my untouched glass and watched them raise theirs to her.

This time, she hadn't even bothered pretending I belonged at the head table.

After the banquet, guests were still lingering.

I picked up my coat to leave.

Leonardo came over from the head table with Beatrice behind him. Instead of taking the empty path, he deliberately cut between several tables that were still full.

"Adelia, perfect timing. Saves finance the trouble of tracking you down."

He held out a white envelope.

It wasn't sealed. The edges of a few bills stuck out.

"We've gone back over the operating company's finances. Your dividend from last year, the one point two million, is on hold for now."

The chatter around us stopped.

I didn't reach for it.

"When was that decided?"

"Last week. You didn't come to the meeting."

"I never got any notice."

"You could try showing some interest on your own."

He pushed the envelope a little closer.

"There are 300 euros in here. You'll get the same every month. It's plenty for food and getting around."

Someone set down a glass and looked at me.

Leonardo raised his voice, like he was afraid the tables in the back might miss it.

"You're 26. You can't spend your whole life letting other people earn your money.

"Buy cheaper clothes. Take fewer cabs. That's how normal people live. Time you learned to live on a budget."

As he said it, he reached over to tuck the envelope into my coat pocket for me.

I clamped my hand over the pocket.

"Move your hand."

He stopped short.

Beatrice stepped between us right on cue, took the envelope, and pressed it into my hand.

"He doesn't mean anything by it."

She wrapped her hand around mine and forced my fingers shut over it.

"If nobody ever reins you in, you'll never understand how any of this gets earned.

"We did it in front of the whole family on purpose, so there'd be witnesses. That way, you can't say later that we were too stingy to take care of you."

I looked at the people behind her.

Some had turned their chairs around to watch. Others stared into their glasses and pretended not to hear.

No one spoke up for me.

I pulled out the three 100-euro notes, counted them, and put them back in the envelope.

"One point two million euros, reduced to 300.

"My house is being used to entertain your guests. Your people are sitting in my seat.

"And on top of all that, I'm supposed to stand here and thank you."

Beatrice's smile faded.

"Your house. Your seat," she repeated, and the last of her smile went away.

"Adelia, is that all you ever talk about?

"I didn't work here for 20 years just to stand behind you forever, waiting for a little girl who knows nothing to approve every decision."

She tipped her chin toward the head table.

"Look at who stood up today. Your father's gone. It's time you learned to face reality."

I looked at the glasses on the head table.

When she finished, not one person said a word in my defense.

Leonardo checked his watch.

"We have to get back to headquarters to meet investors. If you don't want to ride with us, find your own way home."

His driver opened the car door.

Beatrice got in without saying another word about it being for my own good.

Their car rolled out of the courtyard along the gravel drive.

Only after the car was gone did I put the envelope in my bag.

By the gate, one of the old stewards, who hadn't said a word all evening, reached to take my arm. I stepped back and walked down the steps on my own.

Half an hour later, I got to Rinaldi Wines headquarters ahead of them and waited by the door of the second-floor sitting room.

Beatrice and Leonardo came down the long hallway toward the executive offices.

I watched Beatrice pull out her black-and-gold key card.

The Vitale family crest was still printed on the front.

She held it to the reader.

"Beep. Access denied."