Brody - Ellie Masters Page 0,3

year’s harvest, make next year’s wine, and bring in the sales we need to keep the doors open.

No harvest and we’re dead. That’s my line in the sand. So, I have to meet payroll. There is no alternative.

I glance at the list of banks I’ve compiled and cross off the last one. We’re too deep in debt to be worth the risk of a standard loan. Not that I’ve exhausted all my possibilities. There are four equity investors who might be willing to pull us out of this shitshow, but that comes at a price. Four names on a very short list.

Five if I’m desperate, like really, really desperate.

I’ll do pretty much anything to avoid calling the fifth name on my list.

Brody La Rouge is the devil incarnate, and everybody knows what happens to people who make deals with the devil. I rub at my eyes and lean back with a sigh. The timer on my phone goes off and I push away from the desk.

Mom has faith in me. My business degree says I should be able to do this, but the books don’t lie.

I head to the kitchen and pour hot tea for myself and a mug of steaming hot coffee for Mom. Placing both on a tray, I carefully dispense Mother’s morning pills. The pile grows with each visit to the doctor. Although that will change when they put her on hospice. I press my fist to my chest as pain rips through me. Tears well in my eyes and I hastily brush them away. I’ve cried enough in the past three years to last a lifetime. Besides, tears don’t change the fact that Mom is dying.

At her last doctor’s visit, I saw the truth in her doctor’s eyes. We’re nearing the end. He prescribed more pills for the unrelenting pain caused by the cancer spreading through her body. There are antibiotics for this current bout of pneumonia, steroid pills she hates because they make her crazy, and vitamin supplements that may or may not be doing anything to boost her immunity. There are so many pills for so many things.

And what are the pills doing?

They heal nothing. All they’re doing is letting her die at a slower pace. Not that I wish to hasten her death, but watching her waste away isn’t any easier.

I fix a quick breakfast: eggs over-medium, fresh-cut fruit, toast with butter, and a small glass of orange juice. I carry the tray into the guest bedroom. We moved her down here a few months ago when she was no longer able to navigate the stairs. She wants me to move into the master suite, but that feels all kinds of wrong. Like if I move in there, I admit this is the end.

I’m not ready for that.

“Good morning!” Despite the fatigue dragging me down, I inject cheer into my voice for her sake. I’m not the one dying, which means I need to be strong for her.

“Morning.” Mom shifts in her bed with a wince.

“Scale of one to ten?” It’s become our morning ritual. If her pain is severe enough, I can give her more pills.

“It’s a rough morning, luv.”

“I need a number, Mom.”

“Seven? Eight?” She’s a fighter and tough as nails. Seven means nine, and eight?

“Let me grab another…”

“No more pills, sweetie. They make my head foggy.” She pats the bed beside her. “Sit with me for a minute.”

“Of course.” I place the tray with her coffee and all the pills on the bedside table. Gingerly, I cradle my tea while I dip the tea bag in the steaming water. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Sleep’s overrated.” She swallows her first pill, one of the pain pills, and grimaces as it goes down.

“You need to rest.”

“For what?” She sighs and swallows another pill.

“It’s going to be a pretty day. Do you want me to move you to the porch?”

I watch her closely. She laboriously drags her gaze from the bed across the room to where a pair of French doors open onto an expansive porch. The weather in Napa is mild year-round, and we’re having an exceptional run of blue skies and perfect temperatures. The fresh air will do her good, but the defeat in her expression says enough.

“Or, I can open the curtains? Let the light spill in? Open the windows for the breeze?” Mother loves the songbirds which frequent her garden.

“That sounds lovely.” She leans her head back on her pillow with a soft sigh.

We sit in silence while she