A marquee tent stood a little way from the church in an empty patch of field between the ancient stone building and the wall dividing them from the dirt road. It hadn’t been a recent construction; the canvas walls were faded and stained with age, and one of the posts listed. The mourners moved toward it in clumps of twos and threes, and Margot realized this was likely the “hall” the pastor had said would offer refreshments. The church was too small to hold a milling congregation after Sunday services, and the building was too historic to build an extension, so the cloth tent served as a gathering point.

Margot raised her shoulders to hold the coat’s collar closer to her throat as she followed, her shoes leaving imprints in the damp ground. She felt faintly lost. There had been so little time to do anything—prepare anything—that she’d mostly flown on the idea that she would figure everything out when she arrived at Leafell. Now she was here, and she felt more painfully untethered than she ever had in her life.

The call from a lawyer had come just two days before. He’d said he was contacting her to share some unfortunate news. Her parents were dead. He didn’t know the full details, but he’d been told they had passed of heart attacks. The funeral was already paid for, and a close family acquaintance was making arrangements for the service, so she wouldn’t need to do anything at that time.

Margot, still reeling, had leaned one shoulder against her kitchen wall as the call continued. He explained that her parents’ sudden deaths had left Margot the sole recipient of their estate. That included their family home. The home she had supposedly grown up in—the home she couldn’t even remember. And the family business: Gallows Hill Winery.

The funeral had been scheduled for Wednesday, leaving Margot with just enough time to pack her cases before getting into her car for the two-day drive across the country, stopping at whichever motels had vacancy signs out front and eating at whatever fast-food places didn’t require detours.

She’d managed to arrive that morning with just a few hours to spare and had gone to the funeral home first. The director hadn’t seemed surprised. If anything, she had the impression that he’d been waiting for her. And he’d taken her to the back room for the only viewing of her parents that would be allowed.

“We did the best that we could, but…”

Her breath caught in her lungs. She quickened her pace, lifting her chin to catch some of the ice-laced wind to cool her suddenly burning skin.