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He chuckles and takes a swig. “Tell me more about this sustainability stuff.”
“Seriously?”
“The company needs a rebrand,” Alistair admits. “We’re not even close to being back to where we were before Mom died. Dad likes to pretend everything is fine because he doesn’t want to talk about that. Ever. He’ll act like it’s to do with the pricing structure or getting a bad deal from suppliers but we all know that the winery needs a makeover. Environmentalism is popular apparently—I was doing some research this weekend.”
I can’t help being impressed. Alistair rolls his eyes at my expression.
“Don’t give me that look, I do like to work as much as I like to party.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“Okay maybe notasmuch, but…” He sighs and takes a long drink. “You know what would be even better—ifyouwere the one leading the charge on this.”
“No,” I say quickly.
“Come on,” he says. “Everton needs its heir.”
I grab my own glass and drink half of it in one gulp. “Why don’tyoube the heir?”
“Ha! Not a chance. Even if Daddidoffer me the keys to the castle—which he would not because he’s stubborn and old-fashioned and you’re the first born and all that—I wouldn’t want it. I enjoy my current work-life balance,” he says, making a sweeping gesture out at the pool. “But you…you could really make some changes around here.”
I feel a slight lift in my chest and tamp it down quickly.
“I was talking to Dad about it,” Alistair begins, but I cut him off.
“Dad only wants me to come back so he can put me under his thumb again. Not happening. I’m going to make sure Mom’s case doesn’t get shoved in some basement, then I’m going back to Argentina.”
That feels especially certain after seeing Luke and Isla together. What a fucking punch to the gut.
“Fine, fine,” Alistair grumbles. “How goes the investigation?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I feel totally off track after a weekend spent with Isla.
“Still putting the pieces together,” I say.
Alistair snorts. “In other words, you’ve got nothing. Come on, man. I don’t want to lose my bet with Charlotte Perez.”
It seems like the perfect opening to hear Alistair’s version of events. “Why don’t you tell me your story?”
He takes a gulp of wine, his face suddenly wary. “What story?”
“The morning she died,” I say quietly.
Alistair looks down into his glass and shrugs. “My room faces the lodge. I didn’t hear anything. Had my AC blasting and I was passed out hard. Finn woke me up to tell me. He heard the shot, you know.”
I nod. Al swirls his wine and takes another drink. “Dad found her.” I flinch, the 911 transcript appearing in my mind’s eye. “Came back into the house screaming. I’ve never seen him like that. Wild eyes, crazy hair, this vein standing out in his forehead. Then the sheriff came and made us all go outside. Then you showed up with Noah and Isla.”
We sit in silence, both lost in our own memories. Alistair refills his wine and gives me a sly look.
“So you were with Isla that morning,” he says.
“Yup.”
“Which, I assume, means you spent the night with her.”
I frown at him and press my lips together.
“So you two were like…” He waggles his eyebrows. Leave it to Alistair to break a somber moment with a sexual innuendo.