The answer arrived sooner than either of us expected.
The following afternoon, Garrett asked me to meet him and Sienna in the tasting room after the staff left.
When I walked in, they were standing on opposite sides of the long oak table.
Garrett had the authorization folder in front of him.
Sienna looked as if she had been crying.
“What is this?” I asked.
Garrett gestured toward a chair.
“Sit down.”
I remained standing.
His tone changed.
Not much.
Just enough.
“We need to stop pretending this inheritance only affects you.”
Sienna looked at him.
I looked at her.
Garrett continued.
“Your mother left a business that requires decisions.
Properties that require management.
Your sister has needs.
You’re grieving.
Somebody has to be practical.”
“And that somebody is you?”
“I’m your husband.”
Sienna whispered, “Eliza, just listen.”
I reached into my bag and placed my phone on the table.
Garrett’s eyes followed it.
I pressed play.
His own voice entered the room.
“It’s done.”
He went white.
“No, she doesn’t suspect anything.”
Sienna’s head snapped toward him.
Then came the sentence.
“Margaret left everything to Eliza.
Once I get access to those accounts, we’re set.”
Silence.
Garrett recovered first.
“You recorded me?”
“You were discussing my inheritance in my mother’s kitchen.”
“You misunderstood the conversation.”
“Then explain it.”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
I turned to Sienna.
“Who was he talking to?”
Her face crumpled.
Garrett said sharply, “Don’t.”
That one word answered more than any confession could have.
Sienna stared at him.
Then at me.
“It was me.”
My chest hurt, but I kept my voice level.
“Why?”
She wiped at her face.
“He said you would control everything.
He said Mom had spent our whole lives choosing you to inherit the vineyard and leaving me scraps.”
