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“Hell, if I know,” I replied. “I just know it needs to be done.”
“Foods ready!” Amanda shouted, and I shoved the situation with Mia and her family to the back of my mind.
“Okay, this is how it's gonna work,” Benji called out while lifting a box. “Each of these cuts is rare, medium rare, and well done. You’re going to take three sample pieces and three sample cups of mead we think goes well with it and take three voting cards—”
While Benji explained the rule, I checked my cell to see if Mia might have texted me or emailed me—but nothing. I supposed she was busy either at the winery or at the museum where she had given Victor’s chest to the curator.
“Bon appétit,” Amanda called over.
While the tasting went on, I was on my third cut when Greer, one of our middle management leaders, came in…with Mia in tow. By that time, we had music on the speakers, and while a few people stopped talking at the sight of Mia, nothing much changed.
She looked a bit confused at what was happening. I would imagine it looked like the strangest barbeque she had ever attended. I mean, we were eating sample squares of beef, not bigger pieces, burgers, or ribs. This was essentially a work meeting, so I was not sure why Greer had brought over the company.
I made to go over there, but Cole shouted, “Ethan, so we got more Stardust bottles? I think it goes best with the strip steak!” I turned to him, unsure of what to say, but he hollered. “C’mon, man. I’ve gotta make my decision for the Texas guys, and I need more mead.”
Mia’s face went white.
Why?
I met Benji’s eye and jerked my head to Cole before I took off and headed off to Mia. But before I got there, she turned and sprinted away. I took off behind her and caught up to her as she got to her car.
“Mia! Mia, stop!”
She jerked to a stop, almost tripping over her feet, but then spun to me with hurt and betrayal in her eyes. “You didn’t tell me you got the contract!”
I stopped in front of her and frowned. “Yes. Does it matter?”
“Of course it does,” she replied, her tone cracking.
Even though she was not accusing me of something wrong, I grew defensive. “I thought you were working on the paperwork to succeed as the head of the family business, and I was a sure thing. Besides, you never mentioned it, so I assumed that maybe they had not contacted you or maybe you had changed your mind about working with them if they had.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle and hunched over like that made her that much smaller. “I-I… I smudged the truth on that,” she swallowed. “When I spoke to my dad about taking over, he flatly told me he wouldn’t allow it, so I told him about the deal with the Texas guys and I bartered with him—”
A rock sunk into my stomach. This was not heading to a place I would like—I knew it.
“—I told him that if I got the contract, he would let me take over, and even now, I haven’t heard from them. The last time I checked, the owner, Mr. Portman, was out dealing with his sick son, and they said they would get back to me. I’ve been so wrapped up in this Sarah business and you and everything else except what I should have been focusing on….”
Jesus Christ.
“…It’s the only way I can take over.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And if you have the contract, I don’t know if I ever will.”
I went to hug her, to comfort her, to tell her it would be okay, but she shied away.
“Mia, come on,” I tried again, but she backed away again. “I hadn’t planned this. I didn’tknow; you’ve got to believe me.”
“…A couple of days ago, Dad told me not to trust you because, like your family, you might find a way to stab me in the back. I-I know this is not that, but…I don’t want to think he may be right,” Mia replied. “I think I need to go home.”
Helpless to do anything, I stood at the curb, watching her slip into her car and drive away. A breeze ruffled my hair and lifted stray leaves on the street, the whistle of the wind hollow and echoing in my ears.
Instead of going back to the tasting, I headed inside and up to my in-home office. I fell into my chair, hunched over the desk, and covered my face with both hands. Eventually, my fingers slipped up to grip my hair hard enough for my scalp to hurt.
This was not right. Neither of us was in the wrong here…but it still didn’t feel right. To know that this contract was the one thing that would give Mia her dream, and if she didn’t get it, I might be the one she blamed.
I couldn’t have that.
But what could I do about it?
Was that anything I could do at all? We’d signed the contract; cashed the check. We were still in the first stage of the trial, and everyone was so excited for this to be our ticket to worldwide recognition, but maybe… maybe…
