Blush - Jamie Brenner Page 0,90
“It has to be now, Mom. We’re running out of time. Dad can’t sell to that guy. He just can’t.”
“Did something happen?” Vivian’s chest seized in alarm. The baron wouldn’t have dared cross the line with Leah—would he?
“Yes, something happened: he showed up at my wine and cheese class and told me that from now on I have to consult with him about my wine pairings.”
Vivian exhaled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, I have some ideas to buy time. And it starts with producing a rosé. By the way, do you know half these barrels are empty? Chris told me, and I just can’t believe it.”
Vivian glanced to her right, at Leonard’s closed office door just beyond the last row of barrels.
“Leah, it’s done. Let it go.”
“I can’t! I don’t understand how you keep missing opportunities. Producing rosé lets us put cash right back into the business.”
“Yes, but your father can do the same fast turnaround with the whites.”
“That’s still delaying the profit on half the crop. And if you brought in more reds from an outside vineyard, there’s even more to sell. If revenue has been flat for years—and that’s what I’m hearing from Dad himself—this is a way to increase our margins immediately.”
Vivian shook her head. “He doesn’t trust the rosé market. It’s going to bottom out, just like blush did when it was popular.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I don’t know.” Vivian faltered. “It’s easy for you to say because you didn’t witness the damage after our investment in blush.” Leah’s question, the body language of her hands on her hips and her glare, made her feel defensive. The truth was, she didn’t know what she believed anymore. She’d been deferring to Leonard for so long, her instinct for winemaking had atrophied like a paralyzed limb.
“So you won’t help me?” Leah said.
“What exactly do you expect me to do?” Vivian said, exasperated. “Even if I think you’re right, I can’t force your father to do anything he doesn’t want to do.” She’d been trying to get Leonard to look at things differently, to take Leah seriously as part of the team. But now she was so rattled, it was all she could do to hold herself together.
“Mom, you helped build this winery. You took a chance when you moved out here with him fifty years ago. You helped plant the fields with your own hands. You have a right to your opinion about the business.”
“What do you know about it, Leah? It was never my business. It was your father’s idea, your father’s know-how, your father’s name and legacy. I married into it, but it was always his. Why don’t you understand that?”
The door to Leonard’s office opened.
“What’s going on out here?” he said, annoyed.
“We’re talking, Dad,” Leah said.
Vivian reached out and squeezed her arm. “I’m tired. I’ll see you at dinner.”
She turned and walked into the office.
“Leah, can you find your brother?” Leonard said. “Tell him I need him at the office. He’s not answering his phone.”
With that, he closed the office door and Vivian collapsed into a chair.
Leonard crossed his arms. “Is Leah carrying on again?”
“She’s not ‘carrying on.’ She’s rightfully upset.” Vivian covered her face with her hands. She took a deep breath before looking up at him. “I’m trying hard to be supportive. To be on board with what you need to do to save us financially. But I just can’t continue to go along with this. Don’t sell to the baron. Stall. We’ll borrow money somehow. Buy some time. We can run on a skeleton staff. I’ll go back to doing the fieldwork myself . . .”
Leonard smacked his palm on his desk.
“Fieldwork at your age? Stop—just stop. You don’t understand. I’m already behind in taxes. We owe a lot, and I need to start paying in the fall. The baron’s money is the only way to make that payment.”
“But—”
“It’s done, Vivian. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
* * *
“Where have you been?” Leah asked Asher, finally locating him with Bridget sitting on a wrought iron bench in one of their mother’s flower gardens behind the house. Bridget wore a strapless turquoise sundress, her red hair sun-bleached to a softer strawberry color. Asher was dressed like he was headed to a golf course. Both of them sported fluorescent-colored sunglasses with rubber frames.
“Dad said to make ourselves scarce while the new buyer is here,” he said.
“And that’s okay with you?”
Asher shrugged.
“He can help me with