“She’s not ready to be married to me.”
It’s perfect, because while I might be more than a decade older, I’m not ready to marry her, either. “I’ll make a final decision about the timing, after I spend some time with her.”
5
Daniela
Ilift the heart-shaped paperweight from my father’s desk, sliding my thumb over the glazed ceramic. I made it forPapaiin first grade, when my life was all rainbows and unicorns.
He kept the quirky little gift in the same spot on his desk all these years. It sits right in front of a photo of my mother and me, nose to nose, giggling. Her face glowed as she kissed me goodnight in the foyer before they left for the evening. She was stunning, and whenever my father was behind the lens, he captured her beauty in unexpected ways. It’s how he saw her—his Rosa.
“What if the travel documents don’t arrive?” Isabel asks, before I drown in the bittersweet memories.
Isabel has lived with my family since she was fifteen—more than thirty years. When I was born, she became my nurse, then later, my governess, and after my mother passed, my angel. But through it all, she’s always been my closest friend.
“We have almost everything we need already. The rest of the documents will get here. Please don’t worry.”
Isabel has always been the nervous type, although her anxiety has been off the charts since the day I told her I’d be leaving the country after my father died. Despite her reservations, there was never any doubt that my friend, her husband Jorge, and five-year-old Valentina would leave with me. I never had to ask.
“I wish we were all traveling together,” she says wistfully—for the fourth time this morning.
We’ve been in my father’s office for two hours, managing the to-do list. She gets skittish whenever we spend too long on the preparations. I try to be sensitive, but the clock is ticking louder with each passing day. I’m desperate for us to leave—before we can’t.
There’s still so much to get done before we go. Some of it necessary, and the rest to appease my conscience.
I had planned on staying in Porto through the harvest—until those animals showed up at the funeral home. They haven’t had the nerve to show their faces here yet, but they will.
Abel and Tomas Huntsman—just the thought of them sullying my parents’ home makes my skin crawl. Now that my father’s gone, it’s only a matter of time before they pay me a visit. Isabel knows it too.
With any luck, I’ll be long gone when they come looking for me.
“It’s not too late to reconsider the travel arrangements, Daniela.”
“It’s safer to travel separately,” I say gently, trying to remain patient with her. “It’s one thing if you were to travel to Canada with me to see my great-aunt, but it would raise suspicions if your family came along with us.”
She nods and gets up, using her nervous energy to tidy the neat-as-a-pin room.
We’ve been through every detail, dozens of times. The scheme is complex, but the complexity is essential if we want to disappear.
Parts of it have been in place for years. My father was a powerful man, with powerful enemies. We always had a plan to flee the country, one we could put in motion at any time it became necessary.
That time has come.
I watch Isabel fuss with the drapes on the window that overlooks the sprawling vineyards on the southern end of the estate. The ones that have been in my mother’s family for more than three hundred years. The conditions on the south side create a perfect microclimate for growing grapes unlike any others. It’s those grapes that transform ordinary Port into something extraordinary.
They’re the most important vineyards in the entire country, a World Heritage site, and now, my responsibility.Mine.It’s almost laughable.
“Don’t worry,” my father assured me more times than I can count. “You’ll have plenty of help when I’m gone.”
Despite my father’s promises that he tied up all the loose ends and put safeguards into place when he learned he was dying, it’s always been clear to me that no one would fall in line behind a young woman. Unlike my father, I believe that the unflinching loyalty people have always shown our family will die with him. It might be different if I had been born a boy—it might have all been different.
“If you still intend on riding, you should get going,” Isabel says, collecting some paperwork from the desk, and organizing it into folders. “The morning’s slipping away, and you need to shower and be ready to receive guests.”
Guests.Ugh. It’s been a week since the funeral, and I’m long past tired of opening the house to visitors paying condolence calls, but I won’t shame my family by shirking tradition. Besides, my father deserves the honor.
I glance at my schedule and sigh heavily. I really can’t afford to play—but I’m already dressed for it. I woke up determined to spend some time with my horses today and threw on riding clothes first thing. There won’t be many more opportunities with Zeus and Atlas. The horses are one of the many reasons leaving Porto is so painful.
The doorbell rings, startling me. I glance at Isabel. “Are we expecting someone?”