Sunset over Napa Valley

by Monica Garner

Genres: Friendship; Nature & the Environment; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

The call of summer, sisterhood, and hearts in need of healing bring two best friends and their college-age daughters to Napa Valley, California’s breathtaking wine country—where a long-held secret threatens to forever alter their relationships . . .

Since their fast friendship as teenagers over 30 years ago, Louisiana natives Remi Landry and Bianca Fuentes Perez have seen each other through the best and worst of times. Now, as Remi grieves the sudden death of her beloved husband of 25 years, and Bianca struggles with the fallout of a divorce she didn’t see coming, the women are amid their greatest challenges yet.

Remi and Gerard spent their honeymoon and summers in Napa and on the Sonoma Coast. Their love of wine led them to buy a Victorian home in Wine Country—and then a winery on the site of an age-old vineyard. They spoke endlessly about retiring to run their winery. But with Gerard gone, Remi must sort through his things and reevaluate their assets, and her future.

Bianca is grateful to be there for Remi. After all, Remi was her rock when Bianca’s husband left—and throughout the breast cancer diagnosis that followed. Now in remission, and with her daughter a thriving college freshman, Bianca hopes for a brighter future. But when Remi unearths a secret about her late husband so shattering even Bianca can’t help, the past casts a shadow over everything—and everyone . . .

Emotional and relatable, here is a captivating novel of the bonds of friendship, the power of love and forgiveness, and the revelation that sometimes comfort lies where you least expect it.

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

“I called your phone like ten times. No answer!” Gerard’s usually composed voice was filled with frustration. His tone wasn’t loud, but it was sharp—cutting, stern, and unfamiliar. Remi shuddered; tears almost filled her eyes, but she willed them away. Her gaze dropped to the hardwood floors—the ones they’d discovered under aging carpet and spent three days sanding and staining together. She had never heard him speak to her like this. Not Gerard. Her sweetheart, her husband of many years had always been her peace. Her voice of reason. A man with a rare gift of easing the tension in any room with a steady gaze and the right words. He was always deliberate but gentle. But today was different.

“What is this really about?” she asked him softly. Her shoulders relaxed a bit. “Because I missed dinner?”

She had completely lost track of time. Her meeting with Selena Townes had run long. Selena was in town briefly on other business, and when she offered to meet that same day, Remi jumped at the chance. As it turned out, they knew some of the same people, belonged to the same sorority, and by the time the business pitch ended, they were knee-deep in personal stories and laughter.

“You didn’t just miss dinner, Remi. You blew it off.” His jaw tightened, his arms crossed, his muscles tensed beneath his dress shirt. “You knew how important this was to me, for both of us to meet with this client and his wife. I was left sitting there looking like a damn fool.”

Gerard frowned, his eyes narrowed. He was disappointed. Standing there at six foot three, broad-shouldered, caramel-skinned, with flecks of gray in his hair and beard—he was every bit of the man she’d fallen in love with at LSU. He was her college sweetheart. Over the years he’d become her champion. The one who had urged her time and again to pursue her dream of buying the winery. He’d told her to take the leap after Zoe left for college. He had been there through every draft of the business plan. She couldn’t count the times they’d sat in their kitchen hashing things out, setting a budget, making solid plans for this business.

Had he forgotten all of that? All they had dreamed up—together?

“I didn’t just blow it off, Gerard,” she said, her voice heightening. “I lost track of time. And I’ve apologized profusely. I don’t know what else to say.” Remi Landry knew in her heart of hearts that she was fighting a losing battle.

“I get it now,” he said, shaking his head, eyes narrowing as if he had it all figured out. “This dream of yours, this winery, it matters more than the ones we already built. The ones that put food on our table.”

She flinched. The words landed hard. She was taken aback. Had he really reduced Joie to just her dream? Had he forgotten the endless conversations on the porch of their Napa summer home, sipping red wine and scribbling names for their future label on the backs of napkins, receipts, or anything they could get their hands on? It had been her vision, yes—but it became their project.

They had agreed that Remi would lay the initial groundwork, flying back and forth, partnering with their friend Paloma Ortiz and her family’s vineyard. For years, the Ortiz land had housed a dormant winery that had once been owned by the Ortiz family. Though it hadn’t been in use for some time, the old winery had good bones. They would renovate it, revive it, breathe life into it, and chart their own path and build a new brand. The vineyard would grow the grapes, while the winery would produce and sell the wine. It was the plan they’d developed.

Gerard had agreed to gradually shift his business from New Orleans to California, because it was going to take them relocating to Napa for this to work, as so much needed to be done. It was never just about her. After spending long summers in Napa, they had built this plan together. Dreamed it together. Even gave it the name—Joie. And now, standing in the kitchen they had remodeled together by hand, Gerard looked at her like she was a stranger.

“Don’t be like that.” Her voice dropped. She was becoming more deflated by the minute; exhausted even. She wanted nothing more than to kick off her heels, peel her clothes from her body, and hop into a hot shower. Why was he behaving this way? “Your career is important, yes, but so is Joie. And let’s not forget, I’ve spent years taking a back seat to your career. Supporting you and cheering you on. But now that I’m stepping up, trying to secure capital, taking the lead on this venture, suddenly you can’t handle it?”

“I was fine with you taking a lead,” Gerard said, tugging at his tie. “As long as it didn’t interfere with Zoe or my work. We agreed to take our time with this.”

“Interfere?” Her eyes bulged; her brows raised; her jaw tightened. “That’s what this is to you—interference?”

“Yes, interfere,” he snapped. He yanked off the tie and unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. “Let’s just be real, Remi. I’m the breadwinner here.”

Remi looked into Gerard’s eyes, a wrinkle in her forehead, fury in her heart. Did he really just say those words to her? He looked away, having realized that his words may have been too harsh. He didn’t apologize, though, and she was silent for a moment. What she wanted to say involved profanity and that would’ve intensified things. No doubt she was wounded, but she chose her words carefully.

“You of all people know what Joie means to me. I’ve spent years pouring myself into this family. Years of homemaking. Homeschooling. Supporting your business. And now that I want something for me, suddenly it’s inconvenient.”

He knew that starting the winery wasn’t just a business venture; it was her reclamation. A return to herself. Journalism had once been her passion—it was what she’d studied at LSU and even thought she might want to do it as a profession. But journalism had taken a back seat when Zoe was born. She’d chosen to stay home, to raise their daughter, to build their life around his growing business. Now, with Zoe gone to college, Joie was her next chapter. It lit her up in ways she hadn’t felt in years. And the pieces were finally falling into place.

“I get it,” Gerard said. “You have dreams. But relocating is a major move, and being an entrepreneur isn’t a hobby. It’s not glamorous. You saw how long it took me to get my business off the ground. Years, Remi. Years of scraping, building, barely breaking even before I finally turned a profit.”

“What are you saying, Gerard? You don’t think I can handle it?”

“I’m saying that you shouldn’t move too fast. We need major capital for a business like that, and especially in Napa.”

“Hence my meeting tonight, which went very well, by the way. I think I’ve found our investor, Gerard.” Her voice smiled, excitement oozing from her. She still felt the joy in her chest. The satisfaction of accomplishment made her just feel good inside.

He didn’t hear her, though. Or didn’t want to. His face wrinkled in frustration. “You’re still missing the point.”

No, he was missing the point. Did he not hear what she said? The capital that they needed for Joie; she got it.

His voice held frustration. “You weren’t here, and you didn’t call. And you know what, I was humiliated, Remi. I needed you to show up for me tonight of all nights, and you didn’t.”

Her heart was thudding in her chest now, fast and loud. His dismissal of her win was a slap in the face, and it infuriated her. Instead of them savoring her own moment, he expected her to respond to his hurt, as she’d always done.

“I got the capital for Joie.” She blurted it out instead, unable to contain her excitement. “No, it’s not everything that we need, but what we don’t have, we could supplement from our own investments. Gerard, we have an investor.” The last part she said with joy, with pride. She wanted him to be happy for her—for them. She smiled a radiant smile, a hopeful one. She wanted him to celebrate the news with her. But he didn’t say a word.

She’d waited so long for his validation. Even in this moment, she was still reaching for it.

One of Remi’s friends from LSU knew she was looking for an investor and had made the call on her behalf. She had set up the meeting on a whim—the woman was only in town for a day, leaving Remi with no time to prep, no time to overthink it, no time to worry about her hair or to second-guess her pitch. In her rush to get there, she had forgotten to run the details past Gerard. Instead, she had gone in and sealed the deal on her own. Thinking he would be proud that she’d taken the initiative to catapult their business to the next level. But now, what was supposed to be a shared victory suddenly didn’t feel like it at all. Gerard was unmoved by her revelation.

For years she had placed her dreams on the back burner, completely immersed herself into Zoe’s world and Gerard’s ambitions. But today, this was hers. A day that belonged entirely to her, and it felt damn good.

Still, guilt crept in. The aroma from Gerard’s dinner with his colleagues still lingered in the air. He’d prepared something Creole and spicy. Gerald was one of the best cooks she knew, and she was sure that he had impressed his client. She stood in the center of the great room of their home—a home they’d purchased twenty years ago, with its perfectly buffed hardwood flooring, floor-to-ceiling windows, the dazzling antique crystal chandelier that hung just above the wingback chair. They’d been so excited to move into their new home—a step up from the Seventh Ward neighborhood she’d grown up in, with its tree-lined streets and its vibrant, Caribbean-inspired colors. No, their 1920s renovated East Carrollton home was a far cry from her upbringing.

They’d fallen in love with the architecture, the charm, the screened-in wraparound front porch, the French doors that opened to the pool area and the chef’s kitchen, which Gerard used often. A chef in the making, he could prepare just about everything—all their New Orleans favorites: red beans and rice, étouffée, jambalaya, and his dishes were much better than the ones in any of the fancy restaurants in the French Quarter. He did most of the cooking for their family, and whenever they entertained or threw one of their elaborate parties, their guests expected a Gerard-inspired meal. They’d started their family in this house. Their daughter, Zoe, had taken her first steps on that front porch.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you were meeting with an investor.” Gerard shook his head, a frown on his face. He paced the length of the great room. “An investor, Remi?”

She followed him with her eyes but didn’t move from her place by the chair. It wasn’t the response she was looking for, at all. “Anytime I brought it up—setting up meetings, finding investors—you either discouraged me or told me to wait. Someone had to take the bull by the horns, Gerard.”

“Listen, don’t get me wrong.” He must’ve realized that he was being too harsh. His tone softened just a bit. “I’m not against opening the winery, but …”

“But what? Zoe’s grown. She’s in college. I have more free time than I know what to do with. This is the perfect time.” She sank into the chair, removed the dressy pumps from her aching feet. Her whole body ached. She reached up, pulled the colorful wrap from her hair, and set her coils free. She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. “I can’t tell if you’re more upset that I missed your dinner or that I’m doing this … finally doing something for myself.”

Gerard stopped pacing and turned to face her. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk to me about it first. You went behind my back and made a major decision about our lives without even consulting me.” His voice rose, not loud but firm. It was accusatory. His jaw clenched and his lip curled, his eyes searching hers as if begging for an explanation.

Remi rose slowly. “This was a decision about my life.”

Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you saying, Remi? That you’re in this marriage alone?”

The question floated between them. The room felt like it was closing in around her, and she wanted to change the conversation—didn’t want to open old wounds about his absence from home during times when she had felt alone in their marriage. Times when he’d left for work early and arrived home late. It would be so easy to lash out; to talk about all the days it had been just her and Zoe, and all the evenings she’d eaten dinner without him. To remind him of all the conversations started and never finished because his work couldn’t wait. But she didn’t go there. Not now. Not tonight.

Instead, she forced herself to breathe.

“Of course not!” Her tone was quieter, more measured now. “I’m not saying I’ve been alone in our marriage. I’m saying, I need this. For me. I want this for us—but mostly I want it for myself.”

Gerard was unusually silent. Had he conceded? Finally seen her side? Remi watched him carefully, her pulse still quick from the heat of their exchange.

“Hello, earth to Gerard,” she teased half-heartedly, trying to get a response. “Don’t grow quiet on me now.”

Still nothing.

He stood motionless by the fireplace, shoulders square but tense. A strange stillness settled onto his tall frame. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, although the fireplace was off. It wasn’t the heat.

“Gerard?” Her voice lost its edge, softened.

His hand reached out, trembling slightly as he moved toward the wingback chair. He gripped the arm of it tightly, like he needed it to hold him up. The rhythm of his breathing seemed off, shallow and unsteady. Then short. Tears filled his eyes. Gerard stumbled toward the mahogany antique coffee table. The piece had been his great-grandmother’s. Many of the pieces of furniture in their house were antiques—the nineteenth-century Victorian coffee table with beautiful art in the center, the antique lamps, the vintage settee, and the chair that had been reupholstered. All the furniture had been in the Landry family for years.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” She stood and rushed across the room to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tried to steady him, although he was much taller, more stout, and his body was much too heavy for her to stabilize. His legs buckled under him, and he collapsed next to the antique table.

What was happening?

Remi dropped to her knees.

“Gerard,” she cried, shaking him. “Stay with me, baby, please. …”

His lips moved, but barely a whisper came out.

She grabbed her phone from the chair and dialed. Her fingers shook so hard she almost dropped it. Remi cleared her throat. “Yes, I need an ambulance … please … my husband just collapsed. He’s not responding.”

The room spun. All the furniture, the antiques, the life they’d built, even the argument—none of it was important now. All that mattered was the man on the floor.

“Ma’am, where is your husband right now?”

“He’s on the floor, holding onto his chest.” Her heart raced and her muscles tensed. Her breath was so short, she felt as if she was having a panic attack.

She heard the operator say, “If you have an aspirin somewhere in a medicine cabinet, please give it to him right away, if he’s not allergic …”

Remi struggled to tear herself away from Gerard, afraid to leave him even for a second. But she rushed to the bathroom, searched the medicine cabinet, sorted through the bottles of NyQuil, allergy medication, and vitamins in search of aspirin. There was none.

“We don’t have any!” she shouted into the phone.

“It’s okay,” the operator said.

Remi rushed back to the great room where Gerard lay stretched on the floor, his hands fallen to the side. Her voice shook as she managed to give the operator her location.

Earlier, she’d been in the mood for Ella Fitzgerald when she came home and listened as her voice belted from the old record player in the great room. “Summertime.” As she crouched on the floor next to Gerard, “Summertime” repeated over and over, and she wished she could make the record stop, but she didn’t dare leave Gerard’s side again or stop trying to save him.

“The paramedics will be there shortly.” The operator’s voice was calm and soothing, a direct contrast to the panic attack Remi felt coming on. “Is he responsive?”

“He’s not moving.”

“I know it’s scary but try to keep calm.”

The operator’s voice dissipated as the phone slipped from her shoulder, fell to the floor. Tears fell from her eyes and stained his shirt. She trembled with fear, felt cold and then a tightening in her chest.

When the paramedics finally rushed into their home, a pool of tears had already flooded Remi’s face. She watched closely as they moved her out of the way and went to work to revive Gerard. Tears filled her eyes as she looked upward. Remi tried to ease herself into the chair that she’d sat in earlier but missed it. Her body collapsed to the floor instead. The world stood still. Her life had changed in an instant.

Her Gerard was gone.

Three Weeks Later

Remi lay curled into a fetal position in the center of her bed, the curtains drawn, her mind racing, trying to make sense of her life now. It had been two days since she’d moved from that spot except to empty her bladder, and three weeks since she’d lost Gerard.

“Remi!” A familiar voice echoed through the house. “Remi, are you here?”

She heard the voice but didn’t respond—couldn’t. Her entire body felt numb. She didn’t move when she heard the footsteps on the wooden stairs. Remi didn’t even flinch when she finally saw Bianca appear in the doorway.

“Oh no, Remi.” Bianca moved toward the curtains and pulled them open.

Remi frowned as daylight swept against her face.

“How long have you been like this? Have you been downstairs? When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Remi shrugged. There were too many questions she didn’t feel like answering coming her way.

Bianca sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh honey, you have to get up. You cannot stop living.”

Tears burned Remi’s eyes. Why couldn’t she stop living?

“You have to get up, honey.” Bianca pulled her up and into her bosom. “You seriously need a shower.”

Remi was wearing the same green sweatpants and a pink and green T-shirt with the letters AKA embroidered on it that she’d worn two days before. Her light brown, curly tresses a beautiful mess on her head.

“I don’t know if I can go on.” She said it softly, her voice trembling. Her head hurt from all the crying.

“Yes, you can, sweetheart. And you will. You’re strong, and capable. And you have to be strong, for Zoe. She will need you now more than ever.”

Remi breathed in deeply, thinking of her daughter. “I know.”

“She’ll be home for the summer soon, right?” Bianca asked.

“Yes,” Remi whispered. Having to face Zoe and have those hard conversations about Gerard’s death caused Remi’s chest to tighten. She was dealing with her own grief; she didn’t know if she was capable of dealing with her daughter’s too.

Bianca lifted Remi’s chin and looked into her eyes. “I will be here with you every step of the way. It will take time, but you will get through this.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, Rem.”

Bianca escorted Remi into the bathroom and started the shower. Remi sat on the toilet with the lid down, her face in her hands.

“You have to try to organize some things. Have you been taking care of things—the house, utilities?” Bianca asked.

Remi looked up. “I just haven’t been able to do anything, B. Gerard handled everything. The house, the cars. He took care of everything …”

It was true. Over the years she had sort of checked out and let him handle things. She had drifted from the parts of herself that once felt ambitious, driven, even though it wasn’t really who she was at the core. In fact, it was she who had helped Gerard launch his business in the first place. It had been her business plan that had gotten him into doors, her footwork, her late nights with him to brainstorm. But she’d become too comfortable since then, focusing solely on keeping house, raising Zoe, and being a wife. Little by little those things had snatched her identity. She didn’t even remember when the shift happened; it just did.

“I know he took care of everything. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” Bianca gently wiped the tears from Remi’s face with her fingertips. “While you shower, I’m going to make you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I know, but you have to eat. At least try.”

Remi nodded in agreement, and Bianca left. She removed her clothes and dropped them into a pile in the center of the bathroom floor. She stepped into the shower; allowed the water to cascade over her face and mix with her tears. She closed her eyes tightly and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t know how she was going to make it. She rested her back against the cold wall of the shower. Her body slid down the wall until her bottom rested against the coldness of the shower floor. She was stuck there; paralyzed, lost in her thoughts and her what-ifs. What if she had just made it to Gerard’s dinner with his clients that night? They wouldn’t have argued. Things had escalated so quickly. It was her fault that he’d gotten so worked up. The realization of it caused a loud, painful howl to leave her lips—a sound that she didn’t even recognize as her own voice. The pain caused her chest to hurt.

Soon the smell of garlic and onions danced across her nose. As she heard Sade’s voice flowing from the stereo downstairs, she stood, still numb, and wiped the tears from her face with her hands. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a plush towel around her body. She moved into the bedroom and slipped on a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt. A pair of Victoria’s Secret slippers on her feet, she headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Bianca Fuentes Perez was no stranger to the kitchen. Her frie. . .