Page 38 of Taken Away

Chloe grinned. “Mabel hired me because everybody else’s ideas were ugly.”

Savannah sighed, tapping her tablet against her hip. “That is not what she said.”

“It’s emotionally what she said.”

Aubrey laughed.

Movement on the catwalk drew her eye.

An older man stepped out, a thick ledger under one arm—late sixties, silver hair, wire-rim glasses, pressed blue button-down.

“Well now,” he drawled, peering over the railing. “That does look like Anne’s daughter.”

Aubrey looked up.

“Walter Grady,” Bennett said. “Bookkeeper. Financial manager. Human calculator. He’s the one who tells us when we’re broke.”

Walter came down the stairs, one hand on the black steel rail.

“Somebody around here has to know where the money’s going,” he said.

“And where is it going?” Chloe asked.

Walter looked at Bennett.

“Mostly into French oak and whatever ridiculous vineyard toy he wants this month.”

“That equipment keeps your salary paid,” Bennett said.

Walter pointed at him. “Exhibit A: personality issues.”

Aubrey’s mouth tugged into a smile.

Another man stepped out of a glass office upstairs—tall, sun-browned skin, ball cap, work boots. He looked built out of the mountainside.

“Jack Lockwood,” Bennett said. “Field operations manager.”

Lockwood lifted two fingers in greeting, leaning on the railing.

“He means I keep the grapes alive while he spends money.”

“Everybody’s a comedian this morning,” Bennett muttered.

“Morale’s good,” Chloe said.

Aubrey looked back up at the offices.

“What’s upstairs?”

“Operations,” Bennett said.

He pointed as he spoke.

“Walter’s on the west side. Lockwood’s beside him. Savannah’s front office overlooks the tasting room. Chloe’s is next to Mabel’s—she worked under her.”

Chloe’s expression softened.

“And yours?” Aubrey asked.