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“I’d appreciate it,” I replied. “Next time you need a meeting, call in advance, please.”
Something flashed across her face—hesitation, regret, unhappiness maybe, Mia was hard to read at times—before she nodded and turned to the door. I closed it behind her, then went back to my meal. God only knew if Mia believed me about the crappy thing her dad had done many years ago.
ChapterEight
Mia
Icouldn’t sleep that night—again because of Ethan, but not because of another erotic dream. I couldn’t sleep because of what he’d said about Dad and our family. My heart was all tied up in knots because of those accusations, and as much as I hated to believe it, a part of me hated to admit he might be right.
We tended to think our wine was the best of the best.
My dad was a sommelier snob; he didn’t drink much of anything aside from his special collection or wines he thought were on par with ours. I hated to think Dad had done what Ethan had said… but objectively, I could see it. Dad was a business shark, had been and always would be, so it wouldn’t be too far out of the imagination to think he would do that. It hurt, though; it cut me deeply.
Even though it wasn’t illegal, it didn’t mean it wasn’t unethical business.
“Mia, dear,” Mom called as she entered the kitchen, all dressed up in a stylish cream pants suit and modest heels. “I’m going to meet Rosie O’Conner. Look in on your father for me?”
“Sure, Mom,” I replied, glad for the sudden chance to speak with Dad alone. “Have fun. You deserve this break.”
And she truly did; for the past couple of days, she had waited on Dad's hand and foot until the in-home nurse they were looking into could come along. She was due to come this evening, and I wanted to be there when she did.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she replied.
Shaking my head, I stopped her. “Take all the time you need, Mom.”
When she drove off, I finished my coffee and took a moment to reconsider what I was about to do. Rinsing my cup, I poured a cup of cranberry juice for Dad. I headed upstairs and entered their bedroom. Dad was sitting up on a leather recliner, his dark brown hair shot through with silver that glinted in the morning light while he read that morning’s newspaper with his bifocals on.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted. “How are you feeling?”
“I wish everyone would stop asking me that,” he gruffed while flicking a watery-blue eye look to me. “I’m fine. I’m healthier than a goddamn horse.”
“You had a heart attack, Dad,” I replied, trying not to smile but failing anyway. “I don’t think that means you’re fine.”
“It was a small one.” He turned a page. “I could have left without the surgery, your mom insisted.”
For my father, even with his business being a priority, he’d always put Mom and his kids first, no matter what. Despite everything, I admire that about him.
With the haunting thought that I might give him more distress lingering in the back of my mind, it was now or never. I wished Mom was with me, though. “Dad, it's time I take over the company.”
He dog-eared the paper, one thick brow lifting high. “Is it?”
“Yes,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I’ve been studying enology, viticulture, and business management. I’ve shadowed you enough to know what to do, and it’s about time you retired. Dad, a heart attack, even a mild one, is a wake-up call. I’m sure the doctor told you so, and I agree. You’ve steered the ship well, Dad, but I’m taking the helm now.”
“Did your mother put you up to this?” he asked skeptically.
“No, Dad,” I refrained from rolling my eyes. “She didn’t.”
“How long have you been thinking about this?” He pressed.
“Almost a year now,” I studied his expression as he came to terms with my announcement. I had made sure not to put any flexibility in my words. I hadn’t said ‘I think’ or ‘I believe’or ‘Maybe it’s time I—’because I know my dad, and I know how he would pick away at any ambivalence in my words until they were shreds.
He needed to know this was as good as done.
“I’ve been considering it for a while, and you groomed me for this job since I was a child,” I explained. “We both know Mom won’t fit, and Ryan will be off at JPL or NASA or Tesla anytime soon because his head is in mechanics, not wine press. I know what I’m capable of, Dad, and you need to slow down.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
He didn’t need to tell me he was not okay with the idea, but it was past the point now. Dad had to slow down and take care of himself before he aggravated his heart right into the grave.
