Alex, the foreman, clears his throat. “We usually do some stretches before returning to work.”
“Stretches?” What the hell is he talking about?
“Yeah.” His eyes dart around to the rest of the field crew nervously. “Your dad would lead us in some stretches. He said it helps with injuries.”
Oh, nice. Yet another thing my dad failed to mention. We’re five weeks into harvest, and this is the first I’m hearing about this. Granted, I’m also not a regular at these field meetings, but I’m trying to make more of an effort. Trying being the key word.
I nod at Alex. “Alright, how about you lead it?”
I make my way off to the side and let Alex take front and center. Fat fucking chance am I going to bend and squat and do whatever yoga-type shit my dad implemented, especially in front of this many people.
As I suspected, the stretching is a combination of your standard arm and leg stretches, sprinkled with some hippie-looking shit I’m assuming is yoga poses. A few years ago, my parents vacationed in Bali and my dad’s been into the stuff ever since. He’s probably the most flexible man in his sixties I know, so I’ll give him that.
Following the completion of their stretches, the crew disperses and I head back to the office.
Tawny, my admin—who’s also my cousin—greets me with a cheery smile. “Sooo,” she drags. “How did it go?”
“Fine.”
Her head cocks, and she looks at me like I’m a small child. “Use your words, Ethan. Grunts and single word sentences aren’t going to cut it.”
I really wish I could fire her purely for being annoying.
She remains standing in the middle of my office with her arms crossed, apparently waiting for me to elaborate.
“I don’t think they like me very much,” I admit.
She snorts. “Of course they don’t.”
My face contorts, and she tosses her head back and laughs.
Fired!
“I fail to see what’s so goddamn funny.”
She flops down on the leather chair. “You show up here, don’t so much as go around and introduce yourself to anyone, and suddenly you’re their boss. No shit, they don’t like you.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” I grit.
“Believe me, I know,” she says, scowling. “We all know, yet here you are. Better suck it up and get used to it.”
I feel a headache coming on. It seems to be a daily occurrence for me. The consequences of trying to fill my dad’s impossible shoes. In early summer, just as preparations for harvest began, my dad made an announcement that shocked the entire family—he was going to retire. We all knew he would retire one day, but we weren’t prepared for him to do so without even warning the family. We all assumed Gavin, the oldest of us siblings, wouldfulfill his legacy and run the family business, but he turned it down. He said his daughter Lily came first and that he couldn’t be both a good dad and run this place successfully. That’s how I, the second choice, ended up CEO and operations manager of Ledger Estate Winery and Vineyards.
I rub the bridge of my nose, trying to release some of the pressure. I was already being pulled in multiple directions the second I showed up this morning, and then the trail cameras caught a car plowing down the Syrahs, so I had to go deal with that, making me late to the afternoon field crew meeting and adding one more reason for the crew to not like me.
“What do I have on my calendar for the rest of the day?”
She pulls out her tablet and starts scrolling. “Surprisingly, that’s all for today.” Standing, she straightens her blouse. “If you’re hungry, Shane dropped off some lunch for you. It’s in the fridge.”
She starts to walk away but then spins on her heels to face me. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I fear I can no longer hold it in.”
My shoulders tense. Something tells me I’m not going to like what she has to say. “What is it?”
Crossing her arms, she inches closer. “You are not your dad. You’re your own person, and you don’t have to do everything just as he did it. Do things your way, make the job work for you and how you want to operate. No one is expecting you to suddenly become the gregarious Jack Ledger after a lifetime of being prickly, Ethan.”
“Is that little speech supposed to make me feel better? Because if so, maybe you should’ve practiced it a few times in the mirror beforehand.”
She tosses back her head, her eyes rolling to the ceiling in frustration before returning to meet mine. “Don’t be difficult with me, because I guarantee you will not find a better adminwilling to put up with your mood swings. Just because we’re family doesn’t mean you have permission to treat me like I’m expendable.”
