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“Honestly, if you wantto stay in Elmer and you’re willing to spend the big bucks, Coyote Ridge is the best property on the market today.” Jude handed me the same real estate listing I’d been obsessing over all week.
He turned, scanning the dancehall. The Stomp was in full swing. The band had just taken a break, and the swell of voices seemed to rise to fill the sound void. Around us, people packed the large round tables, enjoying the air conditioning, Blue Star wine, and food from the array of trucks parked outside.
I put the real estate paper on the dancehall bar. There was no need for me to read it again. I’d memorized it. I had been doing my due diligence on Coyote Ridge between harvesting grapes,two dates with Rae, and our non-date last night—which was perhaps the best night of my life.
I knew of Coyote Ridge before I told Jude I was shopping. It was on a beautiful piece of land a few miles outside of Elmer. Their herd was a mix of longhorns bred more as pets than anything and some nice red Angus. They’d expanded the vineyard over the last few years, adding young vines that weren’t producing yet to the substantial crop of older vines.
Big future potential. Low current cash flow.
“They are in financial trouble. Same story as the previous owner here. They overspent on new projects and underspent on what could make them money, like the beef cattle.” Seemed like Jude and I’d come to the same conclusion.
“The wine is good.” And now I was thinking about watching Rae taste the Grenache blend we’d shared last night. I shook off the decidedly arousing memory and focused on Jude.
“The sales agent told me they sent Blue Star a gift basket with a bunch of bottles, hoping Wilson would buy the place if he liked the wine.”
“Rae, Lara, and Cami drank most of that before Wilson or I got a glass. I bought a few bottles at the wine store in town to try.”
“I didn’t say these people were smart.” Jude took a sip from his water bottle and shook his head.
Jude and I were camped out at the quiet end of the dancehall bar to talk. Gabe had tried twice to give us tasting flights of Blue Star wine despite us telling him we were working. Me at The Stomp, and Jude had a full afternoon of house showings lined up with a tech guy and his wife from Houston.
Jude was a workaholic who’d sacrificed four marriages to his company, Beautiful Hills Real Estate. He and I had gotten close over the years as our livelihoods were complementary and we were the same age. When you sold mega farm and ranch properties, it was a good idea to understand how to managethem. And when you managed a big spread, it was smart to understand the value of the land on the open market.
“I’d like to go take a look as soon as possible.” I’d never been so sure of something in my life. Hell, I even liked the name Coyote Ridge. It sounded cool and a little dangerous. Hmm, I’d check with Rae and see if she agreed. My idea of cool might not be marketable.
“You finally decide to tap into that money and now it’s a big rush…what aren’t you telling me?” Jude cocked his head, waiting for my answer.
That was a loaded question. How did I condense the perfect storm that had wrecked and rebuilt my life this summer into a simple explanation? I wasn’t rushing, it had taken me over two decades to get here. Falling for Rae was part of the story, but it wasn’t all of it.
“Shit. I—” A squelch of feedback loud enough to make my ears ring interrupted my incoherent rambling. Jude and I, along with everyone else in the dancehall, turned toward the stage.
“Sorry, sorry. Every one of these setups is so different.” The mayor stepped farther back from the row of amps, holding the microphone like a live grenade that could bomb us all with audio shrapnel at any moment. She cleared her throat and smiled at the room.
Amaryllis had obviously been stomping grapes. A spray of purple juice dotted her rolled-up tan hiking pants and pink Elmer, Texas Forever tee shirt. Her signature ink-black hairdo was as proud and perfectly shellacked as ever, the grape juice spray not having affected its loft in the least.
“Hello everyone!” she announced into the mic.
“Hello.” The lackluster reply from the crowd had the mayor frowning.
“Y’all, we’ve been drinking wine and stomping grapes. Where is that fun and enthusiasm? Let’s try again. HELLO everyone!”
“Hello!” A few whoops and catcalls rang out along with the improved greetings from the crowd.
“That’s better. If you don’t know, I’m Amaryllis Graves, mayor of Elmer, Texas, best darn small town in the Hill Country.”
“Hell yes!” someone shouted. Amaryllis shot the man a wink and finger gun salute of approval.
“And I’m honored to have been mayor here for the last sixteen years. Today I’m happy to announce that I turned in all my paperwork on Friday to run for my fifth term as mayor.”
The room erupted in applause.
“Thank you, thank you. Now, it takes a village to run this small town, so I’m here to ask for your continued support in the upcoming election and for all the things happening in Elmer. From the dedication of the new library addition to the upcoming Thanksgiving food drive, Elmer is an exciting place to live, and it’s only getting better. So, thank you for being awesome, and I’ll see everyone at Elmer High School on Friday for the first football game of the season. Go team!”
The applause returned, and Jude and I joined in. It was impossible not to. Amaryllis was everyone’s favorite person in town.
“We love you, Mayor!” someone shouted, and in my head I agreed.
