22. Emily
My hands clench against the armrests of the plush chair, nails biting into leather and drawing lines into my own skin, a map of mounting panic. My fathers legacy is crumbling before my eyes, each word the manager utters a fresh blow.
I dont even know why it matters. Dads legacy was never the subject of any of my woes, certainly not before my return to Emberton. But the truth is simple, so simple I cant ignore it. I care about the vineyard.
Weve analyzed the soil samples, the manager continues, his voice droning wearily, The imbalance is severe. Nutrients leached, pH thrown off kilter. Years of neglect have turned the once-fertile ground acidic. Images flash before my eyes—healthy vines shriveling, grapes withering into bitter, inedible husks.
And the irrigation? I manage to force out. My throat feels thick, each syllable a struggle.
The manager sighs, the sound heavy with unspoken implications. Faulty lines, likely deliberate sabotage. Water leaks out instead of reaching the roots. Its a wonder any of the crops survived the drought.
Drought—that other specter hanging over us. The image shifts: whole sections of the vineyard reduced to desiccated wastelands. The financial implications alone are enough to make me dizzy.
This is a calculated attack, Silass voice cuts through the fog of my horror. Hes right. This isnt just sloppiness; its a systematic dismantling of everything my family built.
Caeleb curses beneath his breath, a long, frustrated string of words. But who would do this? Why?
A grim silence falls. The manager shifts uncomfortably. Theres more, he warns.
I want to tell him to stop, that I cant take another revelation today. But the words die on my tongue. I need to know, no matter how crushing it all becomes.
The processing facility—someone tampered with the pasteurization equipment. Traces of bacterial contamination in this seasons batches. We cant risk selling them. His eyes meet mine with a desperate sort of pity.
And the workers, the managers voice is low, almost a whisper. With the missing wages and the rumors theyve been hearing … His words seem to hang heavy in the air, an unspoken threat.
Strike. Its the word that echoes in my head. Dad would turn in his grave if he knew. The weight of it all presses down on me, suffocating.
Suddenly, I cant breathe. This office, with its worn furniture and oppressive stillness, feels like a coffin. I need air, I gasp, pushing myself out of the chair, my legs barely supporting me.
I stumble outside, the sunlight a harsh, mocking assault on my senses. Vaguely, I hear the mens voices following, filled with worry and questions I cant answer. I cant focus, cant process.
The vineyard sprawls before me, a mocking testament to failure. My failure. Tears well in my eyes, hot and blurring the landscape.
Emily. A hand, gentle but insistent, guides me towards a bench nearby. Caeleb. He always knows how to ground me when Im spiraling.
Its too much, I choke out, all of it. I cant fix it.
Thats not true, Silas says, his voice firm. Well get to the bottom of this.
With what resources? I ask harshly, the desperation breaking through. The vineyard is bleeding dry. We cant even pay the workers, let alone fight whatever this is.
Then comes the revelation that shatters my carefully constructed defenses. The manager clears his throat, drawing my attention. He hunches his shoulders, making him appear smaller, weaker. Word on the grapevine is that AgriCorp, he pauses, gauging my reaction with narrowed eyes, theyve been sniffing around. Making offers. Saying all the right things to put doubt in the workers minds.
AgriCorp. I know the name. It belongs to a cogent conglomerate that has been gobbling up land and crushing small businesses with ruthless efficiency. Their eyes were always on my dads vineyard, even when I was a kid. They werent all that powerful back then. Apparently, this is no longer the case. Now, it seems theyve moved from predator to executioner.
And, the manager continues, his voice hushed, they wouldnt be making a play unless they had someone on the inside helping them.
Fear twists in my gut, sharp and cold. A traitor in our midst.
The men exchange worried glances. I need a moment, a way to reset my reeling mind. A break from all of this. An impossible idea sparks then, a defiant flicker amidst the chaos.
The movie theater, I blurt out. Can you get us the entire hall? I know it sounds crazy?—
Its so stupid, but this was what Flora and I used to do when we were kids. When stuff at home would get a little too real, she and I would sneak out through the servants exit and go to the movies. Mom didnt have the time to care about where we were going and why wed return home late at night. She was fine with it so long as we came back.
I dont want to say all of this out loud. The guys, bless them, seem to sense this, sidestepping the heart of the storm with the ease of seasoned navigators. Not crazy at all, Finn interjects with a speed that would put a gunslinger to shame. Consider it handled.
True to his word, not two hours later, I find myself sinking into the plush embrace of a red velvet seat, the rich, buttery aroma of freshly popped popcorn enveloping us like a warm hug. The lights start their graceful descent into darkness.
To my left, Finn offers me a grin as wide as the screen before us, while Caeleb, ever the stoic sentinel, takes up the right, his presence a steady pulse in the ebb and flow of my scattered thoughts.
And then, theres the popcorn—oh, the popcorn! Each kernel is a burst of joy, a tiny explosion of comfort that seems to say, Everythings going to be alright. We pass the bucket back and forth, a group of kids rather than the grown-ups were supposed to be.
As the movie barrels forward, its logic-defying gravity and common sense in equal measure, our row of seats becomes an island of light-hearted camaraderie in the dark sea of the theater.
I lean in. Do you think physics just called in sick today?
Caeleb, without missing a beat, adds, Physics? More like all of science took a sabbatical for this one.
Finn, chuckling, shakes his head, popcorn in hand. Wait, you mean you cant actually jump a car over a skyscraper?
Silas, the quietest among us, deadpans, Only on Tuesdays.
Our laughter, a mix of snickers and guffaws, fills the space around us. As the hero on screen makes another impossible escape, I throw my hands up. At this point, I wouldnt be surprised if he starts flying.
Caeleb nods sagely. Only after he swims through lava, Emily.
Finn gestures dramatically at the screen. Guys, its clearly all in the cape. Im getting one tomorrow.
Silas chimes in without missing a beat, I wonder if it comes in different colors. Id like mine in a tasteful beige.
I sigh. As ridiculously impossible as all his moves may be, the hero has worked wonders to quiet the chaos thats been threatening to upend my life. Its been a whirlwind of a week. Thankfully, no one has come out with open blackmail following that night in the vines with Caeleb, so maybe we were mistaken. The vortex within me begins to still, if only for a while.
There, in the dark, cocooned by the scent of popcorn and the soft glow of the screen, we carve out a sanctuary from the worlds chaos. I smile as the credits begin to roll. Its an odd, endearing comfort, a reminder that sometimes, the best way to face reality is to escape it, just for a little while.
Speaking of escapes, Finns voice comes through in a low rumble. I have an idea.
I give him a side gaze and notice the mischief rife in his eyes. It makes me grin. Whats going on in that head of yours?
He reaches his hand out and touches my knee gently. I know this is him asking for my permission, and I give it by planting my palm on his.
Emboldened, he takes my hand. How about we show you? Thats always more effective, I think.
I smile slightly, eyes wide, mind running with possibilities. In a movie theater?
No, he corrects me. In an empty movie theater that Ive booked out for just the four of us.