Laine has the gall to look impressed. “Oh, so you’ve had Chilean Rieslings?”
I throw my hands in the air just as the door twinkles open, followed by a chorus of laughing, gleeful women, their heels merrily tapping toward the bar. They’re wearing dresses the color of cotton candy, except for a bubbly woman in a minidress covered in stiff white lace.
Fuck it all to hell. She’s got a sash on.
“Helloooo, ladies.” Laine grins at them, earning a rowdy round ofwooooo!!for her efforts. Tristan plunks three cold bottles of Georgia Girls in front of the cheering women, and Laine turns back to me,I told you soetched into every dimple of her face.
I suck a deep breath in through my nose, willing myself not to lose it. “Well, so what if it’s bachelorette party wine? Look around you, Laine.” Folks are pouring into our tasting room, with more pulling into our gravel lot each minute. I lean over the bar right into her face. “Our wine is popular.”
“Among people who don’t like real wine, maybe.” Laine says, then gives one of the bridesmaids a little wave.
I grip the bar, ignoring the irrational jealousy that wave kicked up. “Don’t they deserve wine, too?”
The fact is, the gentle clatter of bottle against glass, happy sighs after sips, and laughter dispelling a long day of work is louder than her condescending Napa bullshit. It doesn’t escape me, though, that the glasses raised in toasts and cheers are almost uniformly pale gold in color. I straighten, grit my teeth, and push the first of the reds toward Laine. If she thinks our ultra-popular whites are bad, this is going to be downright painful. She eyes the red warily, then sips, her eyes meeting mine over the rim of the glass.
“This is—”
“—boring, I know.” I cut her off, not giving her a chance to insult me any further, and push the second glass toward her, then the third. Her expression grows grimmer with each taste of our red offerings. They’re not disgusting or anything, they’re just profoundlyunspecial. Basic. Clunky. The kind of wine you don’t bother to finish. “Think you can do better?” The words come out clipped, but I can’t help it, she’s pissed me off, and worse, hurt my feelings.
“OfcourseI can.” The words accompany a spark in her eyes, a glimpse of July lightning on this chilly spring night. “Though that’s not saying much.”
“Good. Because I’m gonna need you to bring every ounce of this”—I pause, gesturing at the entirety of her haughty demeanor—“big vintner energy and pour it into my wine.”
Some unknowable emotion swirls across her face, chasing the arrogance away. Fear? Reluctance? Laine drops her eyes and pinches the stem of her wineglass, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger, her voice carefully neutral. “What do you mean?”
“Our grapes are good, our base wines solid. But we’re missing that just-right blend of tart and sweet, mellow yet bright, the casual boldness all the best reds have.And I needyouto find it for us. Fast.”
“What, the clitoris?” A voice booms from my right as Teddy strolls in, loosening his bow tie and cackling to himself. His ability to make an uncomfortable entrance is truly unparalleled, but I’m grateful he’s here to buffer. If I hear one more dig from Laine, someone’s gonna need to take this corkscrew away. He sits next to Laine, who’s staring at him with mild alarm.
“Meet Teddy,” I explain, “town dentist, Bluebell’s informal financier, master of inappropriate jokes.”
Teddy leans in toward her. “And her best friend, though Zoe only cops to it half the time.” He sits back suddenly, frowning. “Wait a minute—anoutdoorsy butch sporting an uncanny likeness to our nemesis Rachel Woods? You must be the new vintner, Laine.”
I am infinitely relieved he didn’t includeZoe’s latest fuckin that list.
One of Laine’s brows quirks up. “Pleasure to meet you, Teddy.”
“You may call me Moneybags, since that’s why I’m here.” He slaps both palms against the bar. “Now, give me a glass of Electric Daisy before you shake me down.”
I pour him a good one, open my binder, and begin.
“As one of the most popular vineyards in the greater Blue Ridge area, Bluebell Vineyards is already well positioned to snagEveryday Bon Vivant’s showcase. Our line of white wines reflects the local terroir and region’s tastes, our mountain views are breathtaking, and best of all, we know how to throw a great party. But”—I hold a hand up—“these strengths are not enough. Not if we’re going to compete against Into the Woods and win.”
Laine appraises me, the faint stain of our subpar Pinot Noir blend lingering on her full lips. “You want to eliminate your weaknesses, too.”
My back stiffens, but I can admit where we need improvement.
Just, I’d rather not admit it toher.
“Yes. We’re going to remove every good reason there isnotto choose Bluebell. Laine, you’ll tackle our red blends. We were known for having excellent reds until my father took over, and it’s gone downhill ever since. You’re going to change that for us. Be as creative as you want, just fix them.”
Intrigue and apprehension swirl in her eyes in equal part. I can’t blame her—creating a solid line-up of reds in one season using existing base wines with almost no aging time won’t be easy—but the air between us seems to change;sheseems to change. At least, how she looks at me has.
“Our next big weakness is lack of infrastructure around the property. With River and Hannah’s wedding in July, it’s the perfect time tobuild external fixtures that will turnEveryday Bon Vivant’s heads. I’m talking a bandstand, movable staging, and patio overlooks highlighting our best views.” I flip to a section of my binder entitledComparators, thumbing through pictures of previous festival locations. “For the last eight showcases,Everyday Bon Vivantchose vineyards with multiple bar locations on-site, along with picturesque selfie opportunities, romantic viewpoints, and the kind of hideaways that can be transformed into VIP experiences for higher-paying guests.” I tap my finger on the pictures. “We can do all that, too.”
“Which is where Ol’ Moneybags comes in,” Teddy says, all business now. “Is River running the builds?” A quick nod from me, and hehmms appreciatively. “That’ll keep our costs low—down to labor and supplies with no overhead.”
“The increase in wedding business alone will pay back your investment with interest by the end of the fall, if not sooner.”
