Brody - Ellie Masters Page 0,94
close look. He signals for me to join him and I leave Cage to his photos.
“What’s up?” I squint against the sun. It’s a perfect day, clear-blue skies, puffy clouds overhead, and cool enough that we’re not working up a sweat as we hike up and down the rows.
“See these irrigation lines?” Asher points to drip lines extending the length of each row.
“Yeah?” I shrug. “What about them?”
“They’re not standard. Actually, they’re rather ingenious. I installed them last year and we’ve seen a twenty percent increase in grape yield.”
“So, this is good, right?”
“Except Atwood Estates has shown a steady decrease in yield over the past five years.”
“What are you saying?”
“Only that Mark went on and on about them. How well they’re doing.”
“Okay?” I scratch my head, not getting what Asher’s trying to say.
“He installed them five years ago. It’s pricey.”
“And?”
“The yield went down.” Asher arches a brow. He gives a shake of his head when I return a flat stare. “Things aren’t matching up.”
“Looks like I need to do a deep dive into the books.” I’ve done this, but it was general, looking for glaring errors and opportunities for improvement. This is more of a deep forensic dive, something I personally love.
“That’s what I was thinking. Installment of this equipment would’ve required a major outlay of cash. I can make estimates of anticipated yield over the past five years, comparing them to what La Rouge produced and scaling down as appropriate. I have a feeling this place is going to come up short. It smells fishy.”
My lips press together as I absorb what Asher tells me. “Where are the records for yield and production? I didn’t see them in the materials I was given.”
“You weren’t?” Asher’s shocked expression isn’t a surprise.
“We do a top-level diagnostic when assessing new clients. If that checks out, we do a deeper dive. I started that with Grace, but it takes more than a day’s worth of work. And that still doesn’t get down into the nitty-gritty of counting pennies.”
“Do you think…”
“If you’re asking if I think Grace knows, or is knowingly withholding, she’s not.”
“I didn’t mean her. Do you smell the same rat I’m smelling?” Asher glances down the row and shakes his head.
“I doubt it. Those two are really close, but to be honest, nothing surprises me. Let’s keep this between ourselves. Don’t say anything to Grace. She has enough going on right now with her mom.”
“No problem. Let’s take a look in the weeds.” Asher calls out to Cage. “Hey, asshat, we’re heading to processing.”
“Almost done.” Cage, who’s flat on his back, has somehow managed to wiggle under the trellis. He gets in a few last shots, then squirms out like a worm. “Where’re we going?”
“To look at vats and stuff.” Asher walks over to Cage and gives him a hand up.
“I got some great shots.” Cage glances at the screen on his camera, thumbing through the various shots. I glance over his shoulder and my brows lift. Don’t know how the hell he got the pictures he did.
After Asher raises his concerns, I’m eager to snoop around. Today presents a unique opportunity because Mark is busy back at the house. A pang shoots through me because I feel like I should be with Grace, but I know it’s better to give her the space she needs.
The three of us march through the fields and head to the processing warehouses. Asher stops every now and then to stare down the long rows of grapevines. He tugs at his chin and I see the winemaker in him crunching numbers.
Asher runs La Rouge Winery for us. I’m the CFO and work the books. Cage handles marketing. We each play to our strengths, but Asher is the one with the eye for the business of turning grapes into wine. To be honest, he’s the best consultant money can’t buy for this particular project.
Unlike Mark, who I’m starting to question, Asher commands my absolute faith. He won’t steer me wrong.
A visit to the processing warehouses takes up the rest of the afternoon. I stay in close contact with Mom, checking in with her via text nearly every hour.
Grace and Mark remain by Lucy’s side. The hospice nurse arrived a couple of hours ago to help as only they can. The bad news is the pancakes are all gone. Neither Asher, Cage, nor myself will have that pleasure today.
At the warehouses, Asher and I leave Cage alone to shoot the photos he needs to make this place