Patch smiled. “That’s what we here for.”
He poured carefully, steady hands, no rush. He handed the glass over with a small nod, watching her reaction without hovering.
“Oh, that’s fucking good.”
I exhaled. After three weeks of work, that simple sentence would sound like music in anyone’s ear. One of the influencers Orim invited out leaned against the counter.
“What about music? Do you have a set? Or live band?”
“No live band,” Patch started.
“Yet!” I cut in, saving him. Wine and cheese was his expertise. Music was something I’d handle. “We may get a jazz band once a week or so. R&B on most nights depending on the crowd. We want it to feel relaxed but still intentional.”
I pointed toward the back hallway. “That’s why we also have a smoke room. It’s stocked with cigars,Oro Blanco, per the owner’s request. We also got hookah and the ventilation system was installed last week so no smoke bleeds into the main space.”
The group nodded, taking it in. I did too lowkey.
Three weeks ago, this space had been unusable. The floors had to be lifted in sections where the wood had softened. The support beams in the corners were reinforced first, then treated so they wouldn’t take on more damage. We sealed the roof—and by we I meant Patch and his team—replaced panels that had started to warp, and fixed the doors so they would actually close and lock.
The walls were stripped down and repainted. Lighting was installed along the beams and lower walls so the space didn’t feel closed in at night. The bar had to be built from scratch.Refrigeration came in late and almost pushed us behind schedule, but we adjusted.
Since we were renovating this space, I thought it best to give the entrance of the main building a face lift too. An open concept was added which drew guests to the beautiful windows that faced the vineyard.
The reception desk still was left untouched as per Marlon’s unreasonable request. But I’ve learned to pick my battles.
Outside, we cleared a path wide enough for small groups to walk through without stepping into the rows. Gravel was laid down. Seating was placed in sections so people could move without crowding each other.
It was gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to open it officially in the coming weeks. Another guest stepped forward.
“Do you have a launch date in mind?”
“Yes, in about three weeks. Hopefully, I come up with a name by then.”
They laughed but I was being serious.
“Also, we have a little showcase in the coming days, you should’ve received an email about it. Feel free to invite anyone with…swayto the event. Politicians, vendors, travel agents, vloggers. We want them all!”
They jotted that down.
The same guest spoke up again. “What about something for the more…cultured crowd such as the politicians? Do you have anything vintage?”
Patch glanced at me.
“We do,” I said. “But those are stored separately.”
The guest smiled. “I’d love to try one. I don’t mind the extra cost.”
The cost was the least of my worries. Actually getting the bottle was my issue.
“Of course,” I smiled back. “How about this? Let’s let Patch here wrap up the presentation and we can split the bottle. On us.”
“Oh, I love that!” She squeezed my forearm.“Will the owner be joining us?”
My smile wavered. “My father is not here today but he will be for the opening party.”
“Oh, I see. Well, what about the other owner? Marlon? Is he in?”
I grimaced and tried but failed to cover it with a smile. “Yes. He’s in. I’ll go fetch him and the wine. Give me a few minutes.”
