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“The bar is fully functional; we’ve set up a gray water system to handle the wastewater until we can fix the septic issues. I still can’t believe the problems we’ve had in that area. But next week the parts will arrive, or I’ll kill my supplier. Then we can get the final inspection.” Harley sighed, her frustration with the situation apparent in every line of her body.
“Sorry I’m late, but I had to sign for a delivery.” Gabriel jogged to the bar and ducked underneath. He was wearing one of the new polo shirts I’d ordered for the staff. The Blue Star logo was embroidered on the chest of the smart navy shirt. They must have been the delivery he signed for.
He struck a pose when he realized I was checking out the shirt. “C’est magnifique. Worth being late for, yes?”
“Oui, Monsieur, and you wear it so well.” I laughed.
“Those are the new shirts you got for all the event staff. I like them.” Wilson inspected the shirt.
“The navy is so practical. Red wine and white shirts are a bad combo. I’ve seen too many mishaps at wine events. Excellent choice,” Annabelle added with a shudder of remembered horror.
“Anyway, as I was saying, everything is complete from top to bottom. Except the bathrooms. Again, we are so sorry—”
“Harley, when you first told me about the issue, I handled it,” I reassured her. “The port-a-potties arrive first thing Saturday morning. Ten jons with hand washing stations.”
“So what you three ladies are telling me is we are ready for the soft open?” Wilson looked from the contractors to me.
In unison, we replied with a resounding “yes.”
“Atley, are you paying attention? When Rae leaves, you and Gabriel will need to either replace her or take up the slack. I have a feeling the dancehall tasting room is going to get and stay busy,” Wilson said.
Atley and Gabriel looked terrified, but I thought each had very different reasons for their fear.
“I’m not going anywhere yet. A couple of events will not be enough to get me recruited.” I was being modest. A big event in a niche industry could get me noticed.
“Don’t be a pessimist. Have you seen the reactions online? We’re trending. I talked with Kate at Vacation Dream Homes. She wants to send a crew out early to film the harvest. Then the rest of the production crew will arrive for The Stomp.” Wilson fumbled for his phone to show off the trending social media posts.
Sometimes I forgot my brother knew more about marketing than most people. He’d be the first to tell you that skincare science was only half of Bio-ID’s business. Marketing was the rest.
I made a mental note to reach back out to Kate with another thank you and a few PR ideas she might help me with. It wasn’t every day you got a full TV crew to cover an event.
Wilson had his phone out and everyone was checking out the Blue Star Wines’s social media feed. The winery’s presence online was strong and growing thanks to the tons of great photos Wilson and Cameron had given me to use and their minor fame from Vacation Dream Homes.
I looked over Harley’s shoulder at the stream of images. Photos of Wilson and Cameron in the vines. Them drinking wine by a fire. The couple splashing around at Blue Star’s swimming hole, a bottle of wine sitting on the rocks. Every image had gotten thousands of likes and shares.
I did a double take as I looked at a selfie of Wilson and Cameron, the sun setting behind them as they stood in the vines, her engagement ring glistening. It was one of the most popular images I’d posted. I looked at their happy digital faces and it hit me. Hard.
What I’d been selling wasn’t the Hill Country dream, or drinking wine, or even vacationing. It wasn’t Blue Star Wines people were reacting to; it was Wilson and Cameron.
I’d been selling love.
My knees almost gave out as a regret the size of the Titanic crashed into me. It was nothing like the dull gray regrets I had over the ten years I’d wasted with Matthew. It was a hot and angry regret that I’d never had a love like what my brother and Cameron shared.
I didn’t look at Atley, sure my ridiculous epiphany would show on my face.
I should have been gushing to everyone about traction and organic reach, telling them how I planned to send out my resume the week after The Stomp. Instead, I felt like I needed to sit and put my head between my knees.
I could see it now; the winery would become a popular wedding venue. Anniversary parties and engagement parties. The simple charm and excellent facilities were the perfect backdrop to celebrate love for everyone but me. I blinked fast. Unexpected tears filled my eyes. Fuck, I’m not this person. I don’t cry.
I took a moment while everyone was still looking at Wilson’s phone to pull myself back together. Falling apart right nowwasn’t an option. Before I looked up, I knew Atley was watching me.
He cocked his head, a question in his eyes. No doubt he could see I wasn’t alright.
I forced a smile and shook my head just enough for him to back down. The last thing I needed was his help, no matter how much I wanted it.
“This is incredible.” Annabelle looked at me in awe.
“After the soft open and The Stomp, I’ll think about my next step.” It couldn’t happen soon enough; I was suffocating in a way I never had treading water in Chicago. Atley had given me a taste of something that could have been more, but we failed—spectacularly.
