“When the frost hit the Sonoma valley in nineteen eighty-three, the crop failed,” Ana said.

“Evelyn missed her payment by three days.”

“And Abigail did not give her a single day’s grace.”

“She didn’t try to help her?” I asked.

“No,” Ana said. “She foreclosed immediately.”

“She had the sheriff evict Evelyn and her son from the ranch.”

“Mark was ten years old,” I said, the realization settling in my chest.

“Yes,” Ana said. “He watched his mother pack her bags in the mud.”

“She had nowhere to go.”

“She died in a state asylum in Santa Clara two years later.”

My chest felt incredibly tight.

The rain outside seemed to grow louder, lashing against the window pane.

“Why did Abigail take Mark in after that?” I asked.

“Guilt,” Ana said. “Or maybe she wanted to keep her secrets close.”

“She raised him, but she never let him forget his place.”

“She made him her heir, but she kept him on a short leash.”

“He hated her,” I whispered.

“He hated everything she stood for,” Ana agreed.

“He felt the agave ranch, and the entire Darcy fortune, belonged to his mother.”