The lawyer—the one who had called to tell her about her parents’ deaths—had said the estate came with a business. He’d said very little about it except it was a boutique winery. There had been no time to dig or question, and Margot, so focused on just making it to the funeral, had let herself imagine it was just a two-person affair—her parents handwriting labels and sticking them onto bottles that had fermented inside a kitchen cabinet. She’d been expecting a handful of loose ends to tie up, bills to settle and supplies to sell, little more.

Twelve full-time employees. It was larger than she’d ever expected. Twelve people waiting on her decision. Twelve people wanting to know whether their next paycheck would arrive.

“I can’t…” Margot caught herself, swallowed, and tried again. “I’m not the sort of person… I haven’t ever…”

Kant didn’t try to hurry her but waited as she fought to gather her scattered panic response into words.

“I don’t…know how to do any of this,” she finally managed. Twelve employees. She barely had enough in her savings to cover her own living expenses for the next six weeks. “I can’t, uh, afford—”

“Business has its own bank accounts.” Kant raised the mug to taste the coffee. His brows scrunched together at either the heat or the bitterness, but it didn’t distract him from continuing. “Andrew manages the wages. Doesn’t impact you.”

“Okay. So…okay.” She ran a fingertip across the thick white paint, trying to ground herself in small ways. “It’s just that I haven’t… I’ve never run a business before. I don’t know how it’s supposed to work. Or how wine’s made. I know it’s grapes, but you need to add something to them, right? I don’t…”

As he watched her flounder, his features softened a fraction. The mug touched back onto the table with a soft click. “Margot. You’ll need to make a choice. But not tonight.”

“Okay. Right. Okay.” When she drew a breath, it was tight, whistling.

“I can manage things.” Kant folded his arms on the table, resting his weight onto them. “Gallows Hill pays for itself. If you want, we can keep it running the way it has. Nothing needs to change for the next few weeks at least. I’ll show you around the business, teach you how it works. And you make the decision in your own time.”

“Okay.” Her fingertip continued to scratch at the white paint, but her mind was clearing in increments. If it doesn’t work—if I can’t stand it—I can always sell, can’t I? Kant says it’s profitable, so surely someone would want it. They won’t have to lose their jobs.