Still nothing.
I can’t stop panicking over how suspicious it all is—the fact that nobody has seen him, that half the people I talk to won’t even cop to knowing who he is…it’s like they’ve been scared or bribed into silence. Or maybe marrying a Bellanti has made me paranoid.
Each evening I find myself going home later and later. I stayed over at the Abbott compound with my sisters last night, the three of us sleeping in my old room just like we used to. I just can’t face Dante right now. I’d probably end up fucking him in front of the whole damned staff. When I left the office that day he bent me over the desk, it was clear by the look on Ruby’s face that she had heard everything.
Maybe I’ll take Ruby out to lunch one day, load her up with mimosas, and see if I can get her to spill all my husband’s sins. In the meantime, I just want to ignore the dirtbag I’m married to. And save Livvie from a similar pathetic fate.
At least the staff members of Bellanti Vineyards like me. Dante has thus far put up zero resistance to the things I’ve been ordering for the employees, though Jessica says I’m pandering to them. I don’t care. Happy staff means happy customers. Which means happy business. It’s easy math. Plus, it’s no less than our workers deserve.
“Morning,” Livvie murmurs, padding into the kitchen in her pink pajamas.
“You’re up early,” I tell her. “Want me to make you some breakfast?”
She smiles. “I’m always up by six for the horses, and I’m more than happy with my Pop Tarts, thank you very much. But Iwillsteal some of that coffee.”
I pour her a cup and we chat for a bit before she dashes upstairs to get her riding clothes on. Donovan slept in the guest room last night, since he refused to return to the Bellanti estate without me, so I make a quick stop at the barn to hug Livvie goodbye before heading back to Bellanti Vineyards.
“Thanks, Donovan,” I say. “I appreciate you staying over.”
“My pleasure,” he says.
Staring out the window, I think about how quiet Livvie has been about Dad missing. I don’t press too hard; just keep reassuring her that we’ll find him soon. But whenever Charlie or I mention Dad coming home, Livvie’s expression goes stony. I’m not sure she even wants him to be found. Which worries me. Growing up, we always tried to shield her from the worst of our dad’s behavior—but I was in Italy for three years and Charlie moved out after she got married. Poor Livvie has been left to deal with Dad on her own, and all that shielding we tried to do hasn’t been worth a shit. Maybe she thinks he’s better off gone.
I’m tempted to stay another night. Livvie is absolutely vibrant with the three of us reunited, and I hate to lose that. But there’s work to do at the winery today.
A few days ago, I went out on a limb and started expanding the upsell items on offer in the tasting room. First I approached Delores about selling some of her fruit cups and the signature peach wine the Alvarez family has been making for several generations. The Bellantis don’t produce a sweet dessert wine, so it’s the perfect complement to our selection.
I also had Donovan take me to a few local bakeries to sample the goods and ended up contracting with a Frenchviennoiserie(basically a combination of bread bakery and pastry shop) to have an offering of croissants, fruit tarts, and other baked goods delivered to the tasting room early each morning. Not only am I promoting other businesses in town, but I’m endearing myself and Bellanti Vineyards to the advisory board at the chamber of commerce—they’ve always encouraged the wineries in Napa to work together and keep up the region’s good reputation.
In the handful of days since starting the new upsells, sales have been up seven percent. I’m definitely not writing that off as a coincidence. The locals are happy, the winery visitors are happy, and our staff are happy too. Well, except for Jessica. Greg recreated her reaction to seeing the changed showroom and expanded offerings, nailing her pompous, indignant anger so well that I was almost in tears from laughing. She thinks my business practices are out of touch with the winery’s demographic, that my bid to make employees happy by getting them needed equipment is a pointless waste of money. But all I see are smiles and open wallets, so who’s really out of touch here? Just saying.
When I reach the tasting room, I find the parking lot overflowing. Making my way inside, I immediately catch Greg’s gaze across the room. He looks equal parts harried and pleased and I can tell he’s been running his ass off. The room is packed with milling guests, holding their wineglasses while they chat and peruse the nearly empty shelves of local goods. I tilt my head toward them with my brows raised and Greg gives me a thumbs-up.
The staff is attentively tending the tasting stations. From my spot near the entrance, I can see the fireplace is lit, the seating around it occupied; small groups chat near the windows where the sun is getting ready to set. In the back, nearly every table is full as staff bring out trays of bread and cheese and fresh fruit, including Delores’s fruit cups.
My chest swells and I mentally high-five the staff. I go to the bar, forcing myself to walk and not run in triumph, and stash my purse under the counter. Leaning into Greg, I can’t keep the smile off my face.
“Well, this is quite a development.”
He nods. “We were slated to do inventory after the morning tasting, but people just kept coming in, so the doors stayed open. We’ve already restocked the bakery items twice and we’re nearly sold out.”
“Nice.”
“Real nice. The only problem is, Mr. Bellanti needs the inventory done by tonight. Which means some of the staff is going to have to pull overtime now. I haven’t told them yet.”
I think it over. “Okay, so we’ll offer bonus pay. And childcare reimbursement for anyone who needs it.”
Greg shakes his head with a little smile. “I’ll see if I can rustle up some volunteers.”
I tend to guests while Greg makes his way through the employees. We have a handful of volunteers in no time, and I spend the rest of the day working in the tasting room.
Around six p.m., there’s a lull at the bar, so I take the opportunity to restock some of the shelves and sweep up around the tables. That’s when I notice a line forming at one of the registers. The crated display of wines there is nearly empty. People are gathered around it, whispering excitedly and grabbing multiple bottles. Curious which wine is drawing such attention, I’m about to go look when Dante appears at my side, his arm going around my waist.
“We’re having dinner at the main house. Let’s go.”
I spy a flash of red over his shoulder and see Jessica has stomped her way inside. She rudely interrupts an employee who’s assisting guests, pointing at something on her tablet.
“Things are a little busy here. I’ll take a break when everyone else does.”
