THE
WEEKEND RETREAT
Author:
Tara Laskowski
ISBN:
9781525811456
Publication
Date: December 26, 2023
Publisher:
Graydon House
18.99
US | 23.99 CAN
Book
Summary:
Every year, the illustrious Van Ness
siblings, heirs to a copper fortune, gather at their lush winery estate for a
joint birthday celebration. It's a tradition they've followed nearly all their
lives, and now they are back with their significant others for a much-needed
weekend of rest and relaxation, away from the public spotlight.
With lavish comforts, gorgeous scenery,
and indulgent drinking, the trip should be the perfect escape. But it soon
becomes clear that even a remote idyllic getaway can’t keep out the problems
simmering in each of their lives. As old tensions are reignited, the three
couples are pushed to the edge. Will their secrets destroy them, or will they
destroy each other first? And who’s been watching them from beyond the vineyard
gates?
When a torrential rainstorm hits,
plunging them into darkness, the answers prove all too deadly…
Excerpted from The Weekend Retreat by Tara
Laskowski, Copyright © 2023 by Tara Laskowski. Published by Graydon House
W-JKA
BREAKING NEWS
Tragedy
strikes at Van Ness Winery
SUNDAY, October 15—Multiple people have been
reported dead at the Van Ness Winery after an altercation late Saturday night,
our Eyewitness Team reports. Police were dispatched around 1:00 a.m. on Sunday
morning after a 9-1-1 call from the estate’s main house, but they were delayed
hours getting to the scene because of the torrential rainstorm that flooded
Rte. 8 and many of the small roads leading up to the winery.
Our news team is
on-site but has not been able to verify details with officials, who are still
investigating the scene. It appears the damaged substation in Parnell affected
power to the estate as well as a number of neighboring homes and businesses in
the Finger Lakes area.
This tragedy is the
latest to befall the Van Ness family, whose matriarch, investor and
philanthropist Katrina Van Ness, died earlier this year of pancreatic cancer at
the age of sixty-eight.
The Van Ness winery,
known for producing high-quality, award-winning wines, has been owned by the
Van Ness family for several generations. The family started the business in the
1950s, after selling their Arizona-based copper mining company founded by Benson
Van Ness. The 985- acre winery and estate is now managed by the Van Ness
siblings, who live full-time in New York City. Their family investment office
owns interests in multiple different real estate holdings and industrial and
manufacturing enterprises. The siblings are believed to have been visiting the
estate for the weekend for a family celebration.
We will report more
as details are confirmed.
THURSDAY
Two
Days before the Party
LAUREN
Ever since Zach told me about The Weekend,
it’s all I’ve been able to focus on. Most people would naturally be at least a
little nervous to meet their significant other’s family for the first time.
But most people
aren’t dating a Van Ness.
“Earth to Lauren.”
Zach snaps his fingers, grinning over at me. He left work early to get on the
road sooner and didn’t have time to change, so he’s still wearing his suit,
purple tie slightly askew but knotted even after hours of driving.
“Sorry,” I say,
tugging the ends of my hair. “Zoning out.”
“You look like I’m
driving you to your death,” he says, then grabs my hand and squeezes. “Don’t
worry. I promise it’ll be fun. Even if my family’s there.”
All I can see out my
window are trees and fields and cows, my cell phone bars ticking steadily down.
We must be close. Zach is taking care on the steep, curvy roads. One bad turn
could send our car into a deep ditch or crashing into a thick tree trunk.
It’s so beautiful up there, my best friend
Maisie said when I told her about the invitation. She had that wicked look in
her eye. All the rolling hills. A
vineyard. Starry sky. Super romantic. Perfect place to propose. My stomach
flips at the thought, and I breathe in deep. This weekend is not about us. It’s
a birthday party for Zach’s older siblings, Harper and Richard, the twins, an
annual tradition to celebrate at the family’s winery. I can’t get ahead of
myself.
We drive up a winding
gravel road, through patches of dense trees. Taller ones have already gone
barren for the winter, but some of the smaller trees arch over the road, their
branches meeting and entangling like fingers, blotting out the remaining light.
“Ladies and
gentlemen, we are now approaching the famous Van Ness estate,” Zach says in a
booming voice as the car’s headlights flick on. “Please, no photographs, and
keep all hands and feet inside the moving vehicle at all times.”
Zach had told me the
estate was large—a thousand acres— but I didn’t grasp what that meant until the
tunnel of trees ends and the view opens to a sprawling expanse of green fields
and rolling hills, stretching endlessly against the purple-hued sky. We cross a
small stone bridge that extends over a stream, then bump along a rocky road.
The vineyards creep closer to us now, eerie in their precise organization, each
plant in a perfect row. We’re inching toward winter, and all the grapes must
have already been picked for the season, pressed and bottled, because the vines
are bare and withered.
When I first moved to
New York and waited tables at an Italian restaurant, we served the Van Ness
wine. I remember those dark purple labels, the name stamped big and bold on the
front. A brand that said, We are too good for you. But Zach is nothing like that,
like the Van Nesses you read about online. Sometimes I forget he’s part of that
family in the day-to-day rhythm of our lives. He doesn’t talk about them much,
offers the scantest of information, or cracks a joke, or completely changes the
subject when I bring them up. All I know of them is from the press, fleeting
and superficial, like the pages of a glossy magazine, but hazy enough that I
can imagine slicing open my finger on the sharp edges if I’m not careful.
“Tell me about them,”
I say now, when there’s no evading the topic.
He glances over at
me. “My family? What more do you need to know?”
“I don’t know. How
can I win them over so they all love me forever and ever?” I say, trying to
hide my nerves.
He laughs. “They’re
impossible to win over.”
“Oh perfect,” I say.
“That makes it easy then.”
“Nah, they aren’t
that bad. They’re…particular is all.”
We head up a slight
incline. To the right, there’s a gravel path marked Private—Staff Only. We pass
it and stop in front of a large metal gate. Zach rolls down his window, fetches
a key card from the glove compartment. “We had this installed years ago for
extra security,” he says. Once the machine reads his card, the gates swing open
soundlessly. I turn to watch them rotate back and slam into place.
As we round a corner,
I finally catch a glimpse of the house, a stone mansion, stoic on the hill. The
long driveway curves up to an overhang in front, flanked by a series of round
potted trees.
“Here we are,” says
Zach as we pull up. He shuts off the car, taps the digital clock on the
dashboard. “And on time for dinner, too. Elle will be pleased.”
My stomach does
another flip.
Breathe deep.
Project confidence.
They’re going to love
you.
I get out. The air is
chilly—it’s dropped at least ten degrees since we left the city. I wrap my arms
across my body.
The massive wooden
front door opens, and an older man walks out, gray hair and beard, a deep
purple polo shirt with the Van Ness logo stitched on the pocket, two flutes of
sparkling wine in his hands.
“Bill! You are the
man.” Zach trades him the keys to the car for the glasses. “Lauren, Bill and
his wife Linnet have been taking care of the estate—and us—since I was a
snotty-nosed kid.”
As Bill heads for the
trunk to unload our baggage, I survey the house. My eyes follow the three short
steps up to a wide entryway with pillars, to the archway above the door, and
then outward to the wings on either side. Greenery climbs up the stonework between
the windows, and I imagine Bill must trim it often to keep it so nice. I touch
a pillar next to me and feel its cool smoothness.
“Where’s everyone
else?” Zach asks Bill. For him, this is business as usual. I doubt he even
notices the grandness anymore.
“Oh, they’re around,”
he says. “Miss Elle says dinner at 6:30, and you can all meet in the library.”
I smooth down the
gold silk top Zach picked out for me, hugging and hiding in all the right
places, like expensive clothes do. What would my parents say if they saw me?
They would never guess I’d be weekending with a famous family like this. They
never thought I’d make it in New York, thought I’d come crawling back begging
to return to my night shift writing obituaries at our small-town paper.
But I’m never going
back.
I take a sip of the
sparkling wine. The bubbles pop, cold and hard against the back of my throat.
Author
Bio:
TARA
LASKOWSKI is the author of The Mother Next Door and One
Night Gone, which won an Agatha Award, Macavity Award, and Anthony Award,
and was a finalist for the Mary Higgins Clark Award, Left Coast Crime Award,
Strand Critics' Award, and Library of Virginia Literary Award. She is also the
author of two short story collections, Modern
Manners for Your Inner Demons and Bystanders,
has published stories in Alfred
Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine and Mid-American Review, among others, and
is the former editor of SmokeLong
Quarterly. Tara earned a BA in English from Susquehanna University and an
MFA from George Mason University and currently lives in Virginia. Find her on
Twitter and Instagram, @TaraLWrites.
Social
Links:
Author website: https://taralaskowski.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/TaraLWrites/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tara.laskowski.9
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