The Villa

by Nora Roberts

  will carry on the name when you're gone if not my babies?"

  "Do you bargain with your womb?" Tereza said evenly.

  "It's fertile," she snapped back even as her husband tried to pull her back into her chair. "More than yours, more than your daughter's. One baby each, that's all. I can have a dozen."

  "Then God help us all. You'll keep your fine house, Gina, and your pocket money. But you will not find yourself mistress of the castello. My castello," she added coolly. "Take what you're given, or lose a great deal more."

  "Gina, basta! Enough," Don ordered and had his hand slapped for his trouble.

  "You're an old woman," Gina said between her teeth. "One day you'll be dead and I will not. So we will see." She swept out of the room.

  "Zia Tereza, scusi," Donato began and was cut off by a sharp gesture.

  "Your wife does you no credit, Donato, and your work falls short of my expectations. You have this year to correct those matters. You will remain in your position with Giambelli until the time of the next pruning. Then we will reassess. If I am pleased, you will be promoted, with a salary and the benefits that apply. If I am not, you will remain with the company on paper only. I will not see one of my blood removed, but you will not find your life so easy as you have. Is this understood?"

  His tie was suddenly too tight, and the meal he'd just eaten threatened to revolt in his belly. "I've worked for Giambelli for eighteen years."

  "You worked for twelve. You have put in appearances for the last six, and even those appearances have been inconsistent recently. Do you think I don't know what you do, or where you spend your time? Do you think I'm not aware of what your business is when you take trips to Paris, to Rome, to New York and California at Giambelli expense?"

  She waited for this blow to land, saw the faint sheen of sweat skin his face. And was disappointed in him yet again. "Your wife is foolish, Donato, but I am not. Have a care."

  "He's a good boy," Francesca said quietly.

  "He might have been. Perhaps he'll be a good man yet. Margaret, you'll pardon the family histrionics. We're temperamental."

  "Of course, La Signora."

  "You will, if you choose to accept, oversee and coordinate the heads of sales of Giambelli-MacMillan, California and Venice. This will require considerable travel and responsibility on your part, with the appropriate salary increase. You'll be needed in Venice in five days to establish your base there and familiarize yourself with the operation. You have until tomorrow to decide if you want to consider this arrangement, and if so we will discuss the details."

  "I don't need time to decide, thank you." Margaret kept her voice brisk and even, and her heart pounded like wild surf. "I'll be happy to discuss the details at your convenience. I'm grateful for the opportunity." She shifted to Eli, nodded. "Grateful to both of you for the opportunity."

  "Well said. Tomorrow then. Paulie, we've already discussed our plans, and I appreciate your input and your discretion. You'll assist in coordinating the operation in the fields, the winery. You know the best men here, and at MacMillan. You'll serve as foreman."

  "I have nothing but respect for Paulie." Ty's voice was calm, even if temper and frustration had twin grips on his throat. "His skills and his instincts. I have nothing but admiration for the operation here at the villa, and the people involved in it. And the same from what I know of Giambelli, Venice. But we have a top-flight operation, and people, at MacMillan. I won't see that operation or those people overshadowed by yours, La Signora. You're proud of what you and yours have accomplished, of the legacy you've inherited and intend to pass on. So am I of mine."

  "Good. So listen. And think." She gestured to Eli.

  "Ty, Tereza and I didn't come to this decision overnight, nor do we do it lightly. We've discussed this for a long time."

  "You're not obliged to bring me into those discussions," Ty began.

  "No." Eli interrupted before the heat he saw building in his grandson's eyes could flash. "We're not. We've worked out, with Helen, how the legalities and formalities should and must be met. We've strategized how to implement this true merger to the benefit of all involved—not just for this season, but for the season a hundred years from now."

  He leaned forward. "Do you think I want any less for MacMillan than you? Any less for you than you want for yourself?"

  "I don't know what you want. I thought I did."

  "Then I'll make it clear, here and now. By doing this, we'll become not only one of the biggest winemakers in the world, but the best in the world. You'll continue to oversee MacMillan."

  "Oversee?"

  "With Paulie as foreman, and you as operator, as vintner. With some addendums."

  "You know the fields, Ty," Tereza said. She understood his resentment. It pleased her. That hot, choking anger meant it mattered to him. It would have to matter a very great deal. "You know the vines, and the casks. But what you do, what you learn stops at the bottle. It's time to go on from there. There's more to wine than the grape. Eli and I intend to see our grandchildren blended."

  "Grandchildren?" Sophia interrupted.

  "When is the last time you worked in the fields?" Tereza demanded of her. "When is the last time you tasted wine that wasn't uncorked from a pretty bottle taken from a cabinet or a chilled bucket? You've neglected your roots, Sophia."

  "I've neglected nothing," Sophia shot back. "I'm not a winemaker. I'm a publicist."

  "You'll be a winemaker. And you," she said, pointing at Ty, "you'll learn what it is to sell, to market, to ship. You'll teach each other."

  "Oh, really, Nonna—"

  "Quiet. You have the year. Pilar, Sophia won't have as much time to devote to her usual duties. You'll fill that gap"

  "Mama." Pilar had to laugh. "I don't know anything about marketing or promotion."

  "You have a good brain. It's time you used it again. To succeed we'll need all the family." Tereza shifted her gaze to Tony. "And others. You will remain in sales, and will, for now, keep your title and privileges there. But you will report, as does Donato and all department heads and managers, to the COO. From this time on we have a business relationship only. Do not come to my house or to my table again uninvited."

  It was a downslide. His title was one matter. His salary, and long-term benefits, another. She had the power to strip him clean. He used the single shield he had. "I'm Sophia's father."

  "I know what you are."

  "I beg your pardon, signora." Rene spoke with meticulous politeness, underlined by steel. "If I may speak?"

  "You are, invited or not, a guest under my roof. What do you wish to say?"

  "I realize that my presence here isn't particularly welcome." Her tone never varied, her eyes never left Tereza's.

  "And that my relationship with Tony doesn't meet with your approval. But he is, and has been, an asset to your company. As I intend to be one to him, that can only benefit you."

  "That remains to be seen. You'll excuse us." She scanned the table. "Helen, Eli and I must speak with Sophia and Tyler. Coffee will be served in the parlor. Please enjoy."

  "You say it," Sophia began, trembling with anger as the rest filed out of the room, "and it's done. Have you gotten so used to that, Nonna, that you believe you can change lives with a few words?"

  "Everyone has a choice."

  "Where is the choice?" Unable to sit, she surged to her feet. "Donato? He's never worked outside the company. His life is absorbed by it. Tyler? He's given all his time and energy to MacMillan since he was a boy."

  "I can speak for myself."

  "Oh, shut up." She rounded on him. "Five words in succession tie your tongue in knots. And I'm supposed to teach you how to market wine."

  He got to his feet and, to her shock, grabbed her hands, jerking her forward as he turned them palms up. "Like rose petals. Pampered and soft. I'm supposed to teach you how to work?"

  "I work every bit as hard as you do. Just because I don't sweat and stomp around in muddy boots doesn't mean I don
't give my best."

  "You're off to a hell of a start, both of you." Eli sighed and poured more port. "You want to fight, fight. It'll be good for you. The problem is neither of you has ever had to do anything that didn't suit you down to the ground. Maybe you'll fail, maybe you'll both fall flat on your asses trying to do something else. Something more."

  Sophia tossed up her chin. "I don't fail."

  "You have a season to prove it. Would you care to know what you'll have at the end of it? Helen?"

  "Well, this has been fun so far." Helen lifted her briefcase onto the table. "Dinner and a show, for one low price."

  She took out files, laid them down and set her briefcase back on the floor. Adjusted her glasses. "In the interest of brevity and comprehension, I'll keep this simple and in layman's terms. Eli and Tereza are merging their respective companies, streamlining them, which will cut some costs and incur others. I believe it's a very wise business decision. Each of you will carry the title of vice president, operations. Each of you will have varied tasks and responsibilities, which are set down in the contracts I have with me. The contract term is one year. If at the end of that year your performances are unacceptable, you will be shifted back to a lesser position. Those terms will be negotiable at that time and in that eventuality."

  As she spoke she slid two thick contracts from the files. "Ty, you will remain in residence at MacMillan, the house and its contents will continue to be available for your use. Sophia, you will be required to move here. Your apartment in San Francisco will be maintained by Giambelli during this year, for your use when you're required to do business in the city. Ty, when you're required to do business there, accommodations will be provided. Travel to other destinations for the company will, of course, be arranged and paid for by the company. The castello in Italy is available to either of you, whether your travel there is business, pleasure or a combination of both."

  She glanced up, smiled. "So far, not so bad, right? Now the carrot. If at the end of this contract year, Sophia, your performance is acceptable, you will receive twenty percent of the company, one-half interest in the castello and the title of co-president. Reciprocally, Tyler, should your performance be acceptable, you will receive a like twenty percent, full interest of the house where you now reside and the tide of co-president. You will both be offered ten acres of vineyards, to develop your own label if you wish, or the market value thereof should you prefer."

  She paused, and added the final weight. "Pilar receives twenty percent as well, if she agrees with her own contract terms. This gives like shares to everyone. In the event of Eli's or Tereza's death, their respective share passes, spouse to spouse. On that unhappy day when neither of them are with us, their forty-percent share will be disbursed as follows: Fifteen percent to each of you, and ten percent to Pilar. This will give each of you, in time, thirty-five percent of one of the biggest wine companies in the world. All you have to do to earn it is adhere to the contract stipulations during this year."

  Sophia waited until she was certain she could speak, and kept her hands tightly gripped together in her lap. She was being offered more than she'd ever imagined or would have asked for. And was being slapped down like a child at the same time. "Who decides on the acceptability of our performances?"

  "In the interest of fairness," Tereza said, "you will rate each other on a monthly basis. Eli and I will also give you performance evaluations, and these will be added to the evaluations generated by the COO."

  "Who the hell is COO?" Tyler demanded.

  "His name is David Cutter. Recently of Le Coeur, and based in New York. He'll be here tomorrow." Tereza got to her feet. "We'll leave you to read your contracts, to discuss, to consider." She smiled warmly. "Helen? Coffee?"

  Rene refused to budge. There was one thing she'd learned in her modeling career, during her brief stint as an actress and in her lifelong social climb. The only right direction to move is up.

  She'd tolerate the old woman's insults, the estranged wife's distress and the daughter's killing glares as long as it meant winning.

  Despising them didn't stop her from tolerating them, as long as it was necessary.

  She had the diamond on her finger, one she'd selected personally, and intended the wedding band to follow quickly. Tony was her entree into the world of the ridiculously rich, and she was sincerely fond of him. Nearly as fond as she was of the idea of the Giambelli fortune.

  She'd make certain he did whatever was necessary in the next year to solidify his position with Giambelli, and she intended to do so as his wife.

  "Tell her now," she ordered and picked up her coffee cup.

  "Rene, darling." Tony moved his shoulders. He could already feel the weight of the shackles. "This is a very awkward time."

  "You've had seven years to deal with this, Tony. Get it done, and get it done now." She sent a significant look toward Pilar. "Or I will."

  "All right, all right." He patted her hand. He preferred awkward to ugly. With a pleasant smile on his face, he got to his feet and crossed over to where Pilar sat trying to calm a mildly distressed and obviously confused Francesca.

  "Pilar, could I have a word with you? A private word."

  A dozen excuses ran through her head. She was, in her mother's absence, hostess. The room was full of guests. Her aunt needed her attention. She should order more coffee.

  But they were only that, excuses, and would do nothing but postpone what had to be faced.

  "Of course." She murmured soothing words in Italian to her aunt, then turned toward Tony.

  "Shall we use the library?" At least, Pilar thought, he wasn't bringing Rene with him. Even as they passed, Rene shot her one look, hard and bright as the stone on her finger.

  A victor's look, Pilar thought. How ridiculous. There'd be no contest to win, and nothing to lose.

  "I'm sorry Mama chose to make this announcement, and have this discussion, with so many people in attendance," Pilar began. "If she'd told me beforehand, I'd have urged her to talk to you privately."

  "Doesn't matter. Her personal feelings for me are very clear." As his feathers were rarely ruffled, those feelings had rolled off him for years. "Professionally, well, I might have expected better. But we'll smooth it over." Smoothing things over was what he did second best. Ignoring them was his strong point.

  He stepped into the room, sat in one of the deep leather chairs. Once he'd thought he would live in this house, or at least maintain a base there. Fortunately, as things had turned out, he preferred the city. There was little to do in Napa but watch the grapes grow.

  "Well, Pilar." His smile was easy, charming as always. "How are you?"

  "How am I, Tony?" Hysterical laughter wanted to bubble into her throat. She suppressed it. That was one of her strongest points. "Well enough. And you?"

  "I'm good. Busy, of course. Tell me, what do you intend to do about La Signora's suggestion you take a more active part in the company?"

  "It wasn't a suggestion, and I don't know what I intend to do about it." The idea of it was still buzzing through her head like a swarm of hornets. "I haven't had time to think it through."

  "I'm sure you'll be fine." He leaned forward, his face earnest.

  That, she thought with a rare flare of bitterness, was part of his skill and his deception. This pretense of caring. This veneer of interest.

  "You're a lovely woman, and certainly an asset to the company in any capacity. It'll be good for you to get out and about more, to be occupied. You may even find you have a talent for it. A career might be just what you need."

  She had wanted a family. Husband, children. Never a career. "Are we here to talk about my needs, Tony, or yours?"

  "They're not exclusive of each other. Not really. Pilar, I think we should look at this new direction Tereza has plotted out as an opportunity for both of us to start fresh."

  He took her hand in the easy way he had with women, cupping it protectively and provocatively in his. "Perhaps we needed this push. I realize
that the idea of divorce has been difficult for you."

  "Do you?"

  "Of course." She was going to make it sticky, he thought. What a bore. "The fact is, Pilar, we've led separate lives for a number of years now."

  Slowly, deliberately, she pulled her hand from his. "Are you speaking of the lives we've led since you moved to San Francisco, or the lives we led while we continued to maintain the pretense of a marriage?"

  Very sticky, he thought. And sighed. "Pilar, our marriage failed. It's hardly constructive to rehash the whys, the blames, the reasons after all this time."

  "I don't believe we ever actually hashed them, Tony. But maybe the time's past where doing so would make any difference."

  "The fact is by not ending things legally I've been unfair to you. You've been clearly unable to start a new life."