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“Is that the facilitator?” I asked Laurent as we made our way to an open chair.
“Yes, that’s Craig. He’s also the high school principal. He runs a tight ship… Well, he tries. Sometimes there’s no controlling the bunch in this room.”
I stifled a laugh as I glanced around at all the new faces, wondering what kind of havoc they would cause, and took my seat. Laurent lowered in the chair beside me, his large body barely fitting in the tiny metal frame. His thigh touched mine, and I swallowed at the unexpected tingle that raced up my leg.
Craig opened the floor, and Laurent stood. My eyes followed his torso toward his face. He smiled at everyone, straightened his tie, and started.
“The winery is looking to add a small tasting area outside, closer to the vineyards. It would still be on the property, but outside the main building. It would allow our visitors to have more options for seating and more of that picturesque background. We know those make for great social media pictures and really help to bring more tourists to the town.”
“What you’re saying is, you want to open another bar?” Craig stated.
“Technically, yes, but it’s really an extension of the main bar. It will also help to keep the main bar from getting overcrowded during tourist season and keep people from having to traipse in out of the property, allowing them more convenience.”
“As long as it’s within a thousand feet of the main building, then there are no legal issues.”
“That I’m aware of. I wanted to clear it with the community first. Vine Valley Vineyards prides itself on the input of our fellow citizens, and we wouldn’t want to do anything that may cause any sort of upset.”
Listening, I realized Laurent wasn’t here for permission. He knew the laws. He probably had all the necessary licenses filed and acquired. He was here to show face—to be as much a part of the community as the small businesses. Though, I knew damn well his little family winery was raking in millions.
I might have fallen down an internet search rabbit hole, but ever since Laurent took over sales, the small vineyard had ten times the profit they did twenty years ago.
Laurent expanded distribution. With shipping laws becoming more lax he created a wine club that shipped to most of the continental US, he also expanded wholesale sales to out of state liquor stores as well as restaurants and luxury resorts. He was on the board of several organizations that worked with local politicians to reform out dated liquor laws and helped the state become a destination for lovers of wineries, breweries and distilleries.
Despite his knowledge in sales, distribution, and wine in general, he had that Grasso charm that oozed from his pores like pheromones. Every person in this room smiled back at him, nodding their agreement to his proposal.
“We don’t need any more drunk tourists in this town,” a rough voice growled from the back of the room.
Laurent didn’t even skip a beat. He turned with that same smile, facing his opposer.
The glare the other man shot made me think this wasn’t the first time they came face-to-face on the subject.
“You didn’t complain when those tourists doubled your sales last quarter, Albert,” Laurent said, adjusting his cuffs.
Albert swatted a hand in the air. “I’d rather be broke than have to deal with all those assholes.”
“Language,” Odette lilted, though Albert looked as if he couldn’t care less.
Laurent’s jaw tightened, but with a bob of his Adam’s apple, the tension eased. “Those assholes—sorry Odette—lined up to buy your pies, they paid top dollar to pick your berries, and plastered your farm all over their social medias.”
“They also beeped at me for going too slow on my tractor. It’s not my fault the top speed taps out at fifteen miles per hour. Any local knows that.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re mad people beeped at you?” Laurent’s eyebrow arched, and I tried to ignore how cute that simple gesture was. “So you want to deny me a chance to accommodate my visitors with more options, bringing in more customers to shop locally, just so you might not get beeped at?”
“Exactly.” Albert turned his chin up, arms crossed over his chest. He was an older man with years of hard work in the sun evident in the lines on his face. His red baseball cap with what looked like his farms logo on it was pulled down to right above his thick bushy eyebrows. His black coveralls and muddy boots made it obvious he came straight from the farm.
In my opinion he was being ridiculous, and I knew Laurent most likely knew how to handle the grumpy bastard, but I couldn’t let him have all the fun.
I stood up, directing my attention toward Albert. “If I may,” I said to Laurent.
Laurent eyed me, curiosity shining bright in his blue eyes. “By all means.”
“Hi Albert, I’m Phoebe Hodge. I work for Green Mountain Resorts.”
He let out a puff of air and rolled his eyes. “The main reason for the downfall of our town. Thank you for that, by the way. We so appreciate the uptight douchebags that roll through here in their Mercedes, then wonder why they constantly get stuck in the snow.”
“Hey!” another gentleman with graying hair and an epic mustached called out. “Those douchebags keep my business alive.” I noticed the gas station logo on his t-shirt and instantly knew it was Silvia’s husband Bill.
“Language!” Odette huffed. “It’s as if you were all raised in a barn.”
