Chapter Twenty-One
I should have been in Brady’s bed, stripped down to the new La Perla set he bought me, but instead, I was hurrying to the town hall meeting. Not because I wanted to rebel against Brady’s request for me to honor my banishment, but because Laurent called in a panic.
Apparently, the new winery that sat just outside the town limits—and had been a thorn in our side since they built the ridiculous tourist trap—was presenting a plan tonight to expand into our town. Laurent could go up against the best of them, but he needed backup. Normally, he’d call Dad and keep me posted, but with Mom and Dad officially retiring, he needed me.
We would have been more than happy to welcome another vineyard into our town, help grow a community, build on the legacy my grandfather started, but these people didn’t want a community. Laurent and I tried to meet with them when they first moved to town, and they were unwilling to engage in neighborly conversation. We could have collaborated. We could have done big things, but they didn’t want that.
They wanted to steal our clientele and not abide by the laws. They didn’t want partnerships or shared success, they wanted dominance. Everything they had done had been to undercut us and the restaurants in the area instead of working together and creating a stronger community.
They’d get approval to expand over my dead body. They thought my last outburst was bad, they had no idea the hell coming for them. To even allow this to be brought in front of us was insulting and a slap in the face to everything my grandparents and parents had done for this town. And to sneak this in last minute was a low blow. I could only guess who was behind this.
My jaw tightened as I spotted their slick black SUV with the California license plate. They arrived early, probably to schmooze their way into the council’s good graces.
Laurent waited by the door, looking every bit the confident businessman he was. Phoebe stood with him in solidarity. She had a say in this as well, considering she ran the local resort that had generated a ton of revenue for this town.
“You ready?” Laurent asked as I approached.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
I stormed past them as Phoebe looped her arm through Laurent’s, and they followed behind me as a united front. Inside, I scoped the place out. Lainey had her cake on the table, and Albert was already eyeing the first slice. Odette smacked his hand when he went to reach for a plate.
“You should give the new guests the first piece,” Odette said, being too friendly toward the enemy.
“No, he shouldn’t,” I announced as I stepped into the meeting hall.
“See!” Albert said and snatched the piece of cake.
Brady’s head swung up, and when his eyes met mine, he immediately jumped from his chair.
“What’s going on?”
Frustration and anger vibrated through me, and I tried to speak, but was afraid I’d be too loud.
“There was an agenda change about twenty minutes ago. Gold Crest Vineyards are making a presentation. They’re looking to expand into our side of town.”
“How did that get approved?”
“That’s my thoughts exactly,” I managed.
“Either someone forgot to send out the memo ahead of time, or someone’s playing dirty, and my guess is dirty. The mayor always caves to money. It’s why we have the damn resort.” I glanced at Phoebe. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
The group from Gold Crest walked toward the dessert table, and Lainey placed the knife down and made her way to us. She was always loyal. “I got here early,” she said, looking at me, then Laurent. “They have a flashy presentation ready to go.”
“It’s all smoke and mirrors, I’m sure,” Phoebe said. “I know the approach.”
“But it’ll look good to the council if we don’t counter,” I interjected. The mayor wouldn’t even care about the presentation; he would only care about the dollar figures. There was a reason he only showed up at the Town Hall Meetings when it pertained to money. Any other time, he wouldn’t bother.
A sinister smile spread across Laurent’s face. “And that’s exactly why I called you. Do your thing.”
Brady squeezed my shoulder and leaned in, his warm breath brushing against my ear. “Bring on the chaos.”
A confident zing rushed through me, and I straightened, ready to rain hell on these people.
The room filled with the regulars. Odette and her full face of makeup and matching set—this one a dark red wide leg cotton pant with a white flowy top and matching dark red flowers. Albert took another plate of cake to an open seat far away from Odette.
The mayor, with his smug, arrogant strut and ill-fitted suit, walked past the rows of chairs and sat beside the podium, where Craig stood with his little mallet waiting for the top of the hour to start. The room was packed with more people than ever. Many faces I didn’t recognize told me they were hired help for Gold Crest Vineyards.
Craig hit his mallet on the podium and kicked off the meeting.
“There has been a change of plans. Gold Crest Vineyard is here to make a presentation.”
“About that…” I said, interrupting Craig.
“Char-Chardonnay. You aren’t supposed to be here.”
“We both know a sign on the door is not going to keep me out, especially when this presentation will have a direct effect on my family’s business and my grandfather’s legacy. Which begs the question… Why weren’t we notified prior?”
“As you know, anyone can make a presentation during a Town Hall Meeting.”
“Yes, but those presentations are always announced ahead of time, so the fact that we had to hear about this through the grapevine, you would see why I’m a little suspicious, especially considering the mayor has come to grace us with his presence. I’m assuming you knew about this ahead of time?” My eyes diverted to the mayor.
He yanked at his too long suit sleeves. “I was personally invited by Gold Crest.”
“Of course you were.”
“If——” Craig’s words faltered when I darted my gaze back to him.
I tilted my head, eyebrow raised. “If what, Craig?”
“If we can just allow the presentation to start, we can answer questions at the end.”
“Great. I’ll have plenty.”
I sat down, crossing my legs, shooting daggers at the mayor. Brady’s hand rested on my knee and gave me a reassuring squeeze. I appreciated his support, but I didn’t need reassurance. I needed blood. Preferably from those at the front.
A Gold Crest representative launched into their pitch——slick, polished and full of bullshit. Promising economic growth and tourism dollars but giving absolutely no consideration to the traffic problems it would create, the influx of strain on our roadways and bridges, nor the ability to accommodate the numbers they were throwing out there as if their new winery would be the greatest thing that ever happened to this town. The resort already created an influx of tourists and added pressure on our resources. Without major overhaul, none of this was feasible.
Laurent countered, stating his concerns about the infrastructure and the disruption it would cause small businesses in the area. All their answers were textbook, and not a single one came from a place of compassion for the town or its people.
Everything we did at Vine Valley Vineyards revolved around the town. Grandpa always said without the town, we would be nobody. We respected that. Honored it.
The presentation wrapped up, and Laurent voiced a few more concerns, but it was time for chaos.
“You treat your winery like a dance club,” I said, standing up and focusing my attention on Gold Crest’s minions. “You’ve had numerous noise complaints. Multiple incidents of drunk drivers being apprehended not far from your premises. You added an outside deck without the proper permits. Meanwhile, Vine Valley Vineyards wanted to add an outside bar, and it took us months of going through the proper channels to get the approvals. Who did you pay off to get that done?”
“Ms. Grasso, please keep this professional,” the mayor said, trying to hide the shock in his voice. He didn’t think I knew about the permits or lack thereof. I wasn’t an idiot. I kept tabs on everyone and everything that could directly affect my family’s business.
I ignored the mayor’s warning. Brady told me to bring the chaos, and I was just getting started. Fire ran through my veins, and I returned my attention to the pompous asses at the front. “Professional? I assure you, mayor, I am the definition of professional. What’s unprofessional is bending the rules for some while the rest of us follow every one to the T. What’s unprofessional is putting the safety of our community at risk because you can’t control your patrons. What’s unprofessional is illegal disposing of wastewater and exceeding production limits of your license. Would you like me to continue? I have a long list.”
Silence fell across the room, tension thick in the air. It didn’t bother me; I thrived on it. The enemy leaned in his chair with a smug smirk on his face I wanted to smack off.
“I can assure you, Ms. Grasso, everything we have done and will continue to do is above the board. Did you ever think you might be upset because your little family winery can’t keep up with the times?”
Oh, he did not . “Look, buddy. That ‘little family winery’ is the heart of this town. My grandfather started it from a single vine, and we’re now a multi-million-dollar corporation that provides hospitality, jobs, and a sense of community to the people here. Not to mention very generous donations throughout the community. We don’t cut corners. We don’t undermine competition. And we sure as hell don’t play dirty tricks. So, if you think you can waltz your overpriced shoes in here with your shady practices and disrespect what my family has built, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“That’s enough!” the mayor said, yanking at his tie that was too short. “We are dealing with facts here, not accusations. You both will have a chance to state your case at a formal hearing. Until then, let’s keep this civil.”
A million arguments rose in my throat, but Brady grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Laurent nodded his approval at what I had already said, and I knew, despite having a litany of other things to say, now wasn’t the time.
I settled into a seat, never taking my eyes off the enemy.
“You did good,” Brady said.
“I’m not done yet.”
“Oh, I know, and those people are going to be sorry.”
“They have no idea.”
This was a battle that would rage on for months… maybe even years. We were just getting started and, like any great war, you couldn’t show all your cards upfront. I’d bide my time. In the end, there would be one winner, and it wasn’t going to be those at the front of the room. It would be the people whose blood, sweat, and tears helped to create the legacy that was Vine Valley Vineyards. The people who gave two shits about the town and its people.
It would be my family.