Aaron nodded. "But this place…" He looked around again. "In my mind, House of St. James wines scream quality over quantity. As long as we can hammer out the details, I think there's a perfect fit with our new exclusive line."
"But we're not going to skip any of the details," Caleb added.
"I don't expect you to," Reaves said hurriedly.
Caleb had already proven himself to be a stickler for details, while Aaron was more the visionary of their operation.
"And the branding's an issue," Caleb added. "We're only going to be pushing a handful of labels in this top-shelf tier, our new Provenance line, and currently…"
"I understand completely," Reaves told him. "And as Dad made clear, we are working on it. I'm sure you guys know Delaney Morgan."
Aaron chuckled. "Enough said. If Delaney's in charge, there shouldn't be any issues at all. Right, Caleb?"
Caleb gave him a rueful smile. "Probably not." He turned to Reaves. "But I won’t make any commitments until we're sure." He glanced back at the house. "I won’t offer false hope if we're not going to follow through on it. Your father doesn't deserve that."
"Thanks. But I think you'll see that between Delaney and Alara—she's a very talented designer we've brought in—the new branding will be exactly the kind of aesthetic you need."
"I hope so," said Aaron. "House of St. James is part of Napa’s history. If we can nail the branding…"
Caleb checked his watch. "I’ll follow up once we’re back in the office; we’ll be traveling for the next couple of weeks. Tell Delaney we’re all expecting her to work her magic."
"I will." Reaves knew Delaney was good, but he was hoping that Alara would workhermagic.
He watched them jog back down the steps and climb into Caleb’s Volvo. Then he hurried back to his dad’s study.
"What do you think?" Charles asked. "Are we in with a chance?"
"Of course we are. I'd say it's a good chance. But if it doesn't work out, they're not the only distributor. We'll keep going until we find the right one."
Charles ran his fingers over his knuckles, and Reaves noticed how gnarled they were. A heavy weight settled in his stomach. His dad wasn't getting any younger. He'd already fallen behind the times with the winery. He couldn't be expected to catch back up all by himself—he needed help.
"We'll see how it all shakes out. Thank you for coming. I hope I haven't kept you away from anything?"
"No! I told you, I have a quiet week—there's nothing on the schedule yet. But, Dad, I need you to understand that you come first. If you need me, call me." He frowned. "You shouldn't even have to do that. I should be here helping you. I need to do more."
"No, you don't. I'll admit that I haven't done a great job lately."
"Don't say that."
"I always speak the truth, and we both know it's true. Not the wines—I don't doubt their quality, or my ability when it comes to the wines—but the business side of things has never been my forte. It didn't matter as much thirty years ago; the wines sold themselves. Even ten years ago. But these days… the pace of change has sped up so much, and perhaps I'd grown a little complacent."
Reaves shook his head. "You've been carrying the whole place—everything—by yourself, and you shouldn't have to. I want to do more, Dad. I want to help."
"I know you do. But it's not your passion. It never has been." He paused. "I was thinking that if we get this deal set up, I couldsee about hiring someone. Someone to manage the business side. What do you think?"
Reaves slumped down into the chair opposite him. "Honestly? I think that's a horrible idea. You don't do well with strangers sticking their nose into your business—and whoever you hired would be a stranger. The whole nature of the thing is that they'd have to learn your entire business inside out. You do need more help; I can see that. ButI'lldo more. I don't know enough yet, but I can learn."
His dad gave him an indulgent smile, as if he were still a little kid promising he'd do better at school.
"We'll see," was all he said.
They both turned when Faye appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray. She set it down on his dad's desk. "I thought you'd be ready for a nice cold drink after your meeting," she said with a smile.
"Thank you, Faye. I am."
"How did it go?" she asked, making Reaves smile.
"I think it went all right." Reaves nodded when his dad looked to him for reassurance. "Yeah. When I walked them out, I got the impression that things might work out."
