Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,115

because he was truly open to what she had to say. The production meeting wasn’t just Leonard’s opportunity to share his plans for the grapes; it was also the chance for everyone to take a breath before they dove into the busiest months of the year. It was the one time when Leonard at least made the pretense of being open to suggestions. It was at a production meeting one year that someone had suggested switching to screw-on caps instead of cork. (“Blasphemy!” Leonard had said.) Javier had suggested a more modern method of bird netting. (“Put a pin in that one,” Leonard had said.) Even though he shut down ninety-nine percent of all new ideas, she at least gave him credit for trying to create a forum for discussion. She just hoped Leah didn’t have high expectations for how this would play out. She might get her say, but that would be the end of it. She’d tried to warn her when Leah told her that Leonard invited her to the meeting.

“I’m glad he made the gesture,” Vivian had said, cautious not to get Leah’s hopes up.

“No, Mom,” she had said, shaking her head, her eyes bright. “It’s different this time.”

Leonard tested his pen on the whiteboard set at the front of the room.

“If the weather holds, we’ll have plenty of time to reach ideal ripeness. Isn’t that right, Javier?” he said.

“Last year we picked at nineteen brix. This year I think we can get to twenty-two or twenty-three,” Javier said, referring to the sugar levels of the grapes.

“We’ll be able to hang our hat on some top-quality reds,” Leonard said.

Leah stood, and Vivian knew what was coming. She just hoped Leonard wasn’t too brutal in shutting her down.

“I’d like to designate some of the reds for rosé production,” Leah said.

All eyes in the room turned to Leonard. Asher was already shaking his head like, What a glutton for punishment.

“A Hollander rosé,” Leonard said, as if considering it. “What do you think of that, Chris?”

Chris glanced at Vivian, and she shrugged.

“We could do a combination of the Merlot and Cab Sauv . . . it will really depend on the actual ripeness levels.”

Vivian couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Leah beamed, triumphant.

“Great. I have some more ideas in this direction, but we can talk about that later,” Leah said. Yes, Vivian thought. Quit while you’re ahead. She looked at Leonard, a small smile forming on her lips. Change was possible; from near disaster to a new dawn.

Their eyes met, and what she saw gave her a chill: Leonard was checked out. His gaze was vacant. He might have the entire room fooled, but not her. She knew her husband: he wasn’t really agreeing to a rosé, he was just going through the motions.

She wondered if they were going to have any harvest at all.

* * *

Leah followed Mateo back to his office, along with Javier. She was on a high from her father’s receptivity to the rosé idea, but she also knew this battle was far from won.

She closed the door, and Javier pulled out folding chairs.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head. “Leonard swore off those blush wines in the eighties. We made too much, people stopped buying . . .”

“We can’t get bogged down in the past,” she said, and this went for herself, too. She thought of Billy Ikehorn Orsini. It was something the character grappled with towards the end of Scruples: Nothing heals old wounds. They were waiting there, inside, ready to incapacitate her, each and every time a situation came up that thrust her back into the emotional atmosphere of the past.

Leah was not an eight-year-old girl learning about plants at her father’s knee. She was not a twenty-two-year-old woman being turned away from the family business. She was a wife, a mother, a businesswoman—and the possessor of a birthright that needed saving.

She had to remember, because today’s meeting was just the first small piece of a complicated puzzle. It would only get harder from that point on. “My father being open to a rosé is a step in the right direction. But to save this vineyard we have to go further.”

“Like doing what?” Mateo said.

“I want to produce only rosé,” she said.

Javier shook his head and muttered, “Loca . . .”

“What about all of our whites?” Mateo said.

It was the obvious issue, and she’d thought it through. The solution came from what Sadie mentioned the night before she left for school.

“Sadie