“I did, didn’t I?” Anson looks to me for help, but I’m not the one giving an eight-year-old daily business lessons. “Remind me to talk to you about the importance of discernment.”
“Dis-cern-ment,” Lala repeats, frowning at all the syllables. “Is that my new word of the week?”
“Yes.”
“Speaking of new words,” I cut in, finally taking pity on him, “Got a name for this blend yet?”
“No.” He takes a long, belabored sip and sets down his glass, sharp eyes sliding to Eliza. “Do you have any thoughts?”
Eliza takes a moment to drink before answering, like she needs to gather her courage.
“Sweeter wines obviously appeal to wine enthusiasts, but they also attract more casual drinkers. They’re more approachable.” She clenches her hands in her lap, like she’s trying to force her nerves away. “Brand consistency is important. But if you do want to reach those more casual, summertime day drinkers, I’d go with a warm name. Something inviting, maybe with a local spin. A Garnet Shores Blend, Waterfront White, something like that.”
I don’t think her chest moves as she waits for Anson’s response.
When it comes, it isn’t what either of us expects.
“How much do you know about the wine industry?”
“Very little,” she answers honestly.
“How quickly do you think you could learn it?”
“I’m a fast learner.”
It’s the first note of confidence in her voice all night. I want to appreciate it, but I’m too busy working out why Anson would ask that question.
There’s only one plausible reason.
He confirms it when he sets his glass aside and says, “I’ve been outsourcing most of my marketing efforts until now, but Gold’s is reaching a point where it’ll bemore efficient and effective to have an in-house, full-time team. I want you on it.”
For a second, my mind goes blank. From shock, maybe. Then a tidal wave of hope and possibility crashes in.
Anson is offering her a full-time job in Garnet Shores. A reason to stay. A damn good one, too, as he adds, “I understand you come from the Boston corporate environment. Your salary would be competitive, and you would be my Director of Marketing, reporting directly to me.”
Beside me, Eliza is a wide-eyed, unmoving doll, her jaw hinged open.
“Take time to think about it, then tell me if you want to discuss this further. I do not want an answer now.”
Iwant an answer now. I want her to nod her head and scream yes. Say she’ll give it a chance. Stay in this place that clearly makes her happier than the city does, despite her bullshit deflections last night.
But I can’t demand her agreement. Can’t make her decisions or choose what’s right for her.
For all I know, she might already have a job offer elsewhere, or a new lease signed in the city.
“Wow. Okay,” Eliza finally stammers out. “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”
Anson dips his chin, like he didn’t just rip the fucking rug out from both of us, and heads into the kitchen. I jump to my feet, right behind him, because if I stay at that table, I’ll just study her face like a scientist observing amoebas for any signs that she wants this.
And because, once again, Anson’s blindsiding me with hiring decisions that affect my farm.
“Didn’t think to give me a heads up?”
“It isn’t a farm position,” he states, not bothering to turn around as he plates the risotto.
Man, the deliberately obtuse thing comessonaturally to him.
“She’ll be doing marketing for all of Gold’s, which includes the farm.”
