Thirty-three
Beckett
I take the curve out of Black Bear Vineyard and head toward the main road, gravel crunching beneath my tires. Leaving Sadie this morning felt like trying to remove myself from something vital, like air or blood. But she didn’t ask me to stay. Just gave me that soft, tired smile and thanked me.
Rosie’s death is still a punch to my gut. I spent half the night in the hospital waiting for a miracle that didn’t come, then the other half trying to figure out how to tell Sadie. Watching her face crumple under the weight of that news… I’ll never forget it.
And I won’t add to her pain.
This isn’t the time. Not while she’s grieving, unrave ling, doubting everything she’s ever known. I want her back—every cell in my body aches for her—but I’m not going to make her choose when her whole world is shifting beneath her feet.
Still, I’m not going to sit by while my asshole cousin plays games. Sadie gave everything she had to that job, and Tarryn needs her. She deserves to have it back.
My grip tightens on the wheel as I turn onto the gravel lane leading to the Paradise Hill offices.
The rows of vines stretch out on either side, green and orderly, the lake glinting in the distance.
The scent of wet earth and grape leaves drifts through the open window.
Normally, it calms me. Today, it barely scratches the surface.
I park near the house and spot my father and Uncle Max standing at the edge of the vineyard.
They’re both squinting toward the rows, arms crossed, looking every bit like two aging kings surveying their kingdom.
I brace myself. There’s no way I’m getting to Tarryn without a detour through whatever family drama’s already in progress.
“What brings you here this morning?” Dad says, straightening when he sees me.
“I need to catch up with Tarryn.” I slam the car door and walk toward them. “What’s going on?”
“We had a meeting early this morning with the irrigation consultant,” Max says, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. “They didn’t have good news for us.”
“What did they say?” I ask.
“They’re suggesting we replace the irrigation system we put in a few years ago on the western sloped vines.”
“Why?” I remember this was a huge expense that we expected to not have to touch for a good fifteen to twenty years.
“The sun has been hard on the exposed sprinklers, and there’s something better.”
“What does Tarryn say?”
Max puts his hands in pockets. “We still run this place and make the decisions.”
While technically true, she’s really the person calling all the sh ots around here. I mostly avoid rolling my eyes. “Okay then, next question. Does the irrigation guy sell what he’s suggesting you replace it with?”
“Sure. He’d give us a good discount.” Max looks at me as if I asked whether the sun was shining.
I nod. “I would check with Tarryn and see if the lines are breaking down. If they are, get the person who put them in to fix them. They must be under some sort of warranty. And, a smart person once told me—” I look straight at Dad. “—that you should always get a second opinion.”
I step away. I need to get to Tarryn.
Dad raises a brow. “Something wrong?”
Everything is wrong. Rosie’s gone. Sadie’s broken. And Zach’s out here smearing her name. But I rein it in, force a smile. “Just need to clear something up. It’s about the tasting room.”
Max snorts. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Zach? He’s the one who oversees the tasting room.”
I want Zach canned. Kicked to the curb. There is no way I’d deal with him. “That’s a good idea.” I lie so I can move on.
Dad calls after me. “Don’t go charging in there, guns blazing, Beckett. Tarryn’s handling a lot this week.”
I take the back steps two at a time and push through the side door that leads into the office wing. Tarryn’s behind her desk, half-buried in spreadsheets and notes. She doesn’t look up.
“Hold on,” she says, raising her hand. “Elise already told me some yahoo is trying to convince us to rip out the irrigation system and install whatever overpriced crap he’s selling.
We’ll get someone reputable to come out and give a second opinion.
Grapes need water, not gimmicks, and you know how twitchy vineyards get when irrigation’s on the line. ”
She looks up as I drop into the chair across from her, letting out a heavy exhale.
She studies me for a beat. “Good heavens. What is it now? Still Sadie?”
“We lost Rosie Kennedy last night.”
Tarryn’s head jerks back like I punched her. “What? ”
“Her heart gave out. We did everything we could, but we couldn’t get her a transplant in time.”
She leans back slowly, her eyes going glassy. “Damn. Did you find Sadie? How’s she taking the news?”
“I did find her, and about like you’d expect.”
She shakes her head, blinking fast. “Rosie was in my grade, you know? That girl had a laugh that could stop traffic. She used to come to school in the wildest outfits—tutus and cowboy boots. No one ever teased her. She was too…bright. Her mama was who knows where. She was raised by her grandma—Dot. Ran that little diner by the fire station. Rosie was her entire world.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I remember Dot passed a few years back. The whole town was at her funeral.”
“Yep, it was a full house.” Tarryn scrubs a hand over her face. “Losing patients is part of your job. I get that. But I know Rosie meant something extra to you.”
“She did. She reminded me of everything good. Everything we try to protect.” I stare at the floor, my throat thick. “I keep thinking if I’d just pushed harder, pulled more strings…I could’ve gotten her moved up on the list. It wasn’t enough.”
“You know there was nothing you could do.” Her voice is gentler now. “You’re a damn good doctor, but you’re still human.”
“I know,” I say, though the words scrape coming out. “But knowing it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
We sit in the quiet for a few seconds. Tarryn watches me closely, waiting.
“I called Rosie’s mom and then went to see Sadie. I didn’t want to tell her over the phone.”
Tarryn nods. “That was really kind of you.”
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “There’s more. Sadie told me Zach fired her.”
Tarryn’s expression shifts in an instant, her features hardening. “What?”
“She didn’t quit. Zach canned her. But he’s telling everyo ne she walked out.”
Her eyes narrow. “He told Elise, the staff, Dad, and Uncle Max. He told all of us she quit. That fucking liar.”
I nod. “And I think you need to see what the hell is going on before this turns into something bigger.”
Tarryn crosses her arms, jaw tight. “That son of a—”
She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t have to.
Tarryn’s already clicking around on her computer when I say, “We need to hit this from a different angle. If we go after Zach head-on, he’ll cover his tracks. We need to let him sink himself.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
“If he’s claiming Sadie left on her own, let’s watch what happens without her. He can’t be enjoying his life these past few days.”
“And what’s your play?” she asks.
“Tell him he can hire the sommelier, but give him a budget the same as what you paid Sadie. Sommeliers cost at least twice as much, and she already knows our wines. But let’s see what he can do.”
Tarryn groans and drops her head into her hands. “They’re not going to take that rate.”
“I know. That’s my point—”
“A certified sommelier,” she interrupts, “wants to run wine programs in hotels or restaurants with five dollar signs beside their names, not stand in a vineyard tasting room answering bachelorette party questions about which rosé is cutest. And even if we find one who’ll do it, they never sell.
They talk, swirl, and educate on wines. But they don’t move product. Not like Sadie.”
I nod. She’s right.
She swivels her monitor toward me. “Let’s watch today. Saturdays are the busiest day of the week. Last weekend, with Sadie working, the tasting room hit over ten thousand dollars on both Saturday and Sunday.”
That’s a lot of money for the tasting room. “You’re underp aying Sadie.”
She nods. “I was planning on giving her a raise.”
She brings up the live feed of the tasting room.
It’s still early, and Kevin’s easy to spot—tall, wiry, a bit frantic.
Kevin Parks was Tarryn’s first hire to work in the tasting room.
He’s a work in progress. He’s talking to a group, gesturing with his whole body.
Meanwhile, another group walks in behind him and is completely ignored.
Kevin bounces from one end of the counter to the other like a pinball, trying to be everywhere at once, and failing. One woman waits five minutes before giving up and walking out. Two couples browse the merch table and then leave without tasting. Zach doesn’t make a single appearance.
“There,” Tarryn says, pointing at the screen. “You see that? That’s money walking out the door unsold. That’s people with wallets full of wine money who left because no one made a connection.”
I exhale, jaw clenched. “And it’s only ten thirty.”
Tarryn taps her keyboard and pulls up another tab.
“The numbers will back it up. Friday sales were down over fifty percent from the same Friday last month. And we have higher foot traffic this time of year.” She turns to me, arms crossed.
“You want to bite Zach? This is how we do it. We let the numbers talk. We gather the data. But I don’t want to wait a few weeks and lose all the summer traffic.
I’ll find what I need to make a move that sticks. ”
“And until then, can you pay Sadie for the time off Zach so helpfully gave her and maybe also next week so she can take care of Rosie’s stuff?
” I suggest. “I feel like that will keep her from looking for a new job. Then she can come back and take over the tasting room. We should have all the evidence we need, and I would hate to lose her to a competitor.”
Tarryn nods. “I think we can do that.”
“She’s living with Ginny, and I can see the Dempseys hiring her out of spite.”
Tarryn grimaces. “Agreed. You can tell her she wasn’t fired and to call me when she’s ready to come back to work.”
I nod.
“Meanwhile, we’ll give Zach enough rope,” she says with a cool smile, “to hang himself.”
The office door opens behind me, and I spot movement in the reflection of Tarryn’s monitor. Without missing a beat, she clicks the tab closed.
“Hey,” Zach says as he strolls in, clipboard in hand and smug written all over his face. “My dad said you were having an issue with the tasting room?”
Of course he did.
I force a casual shrug. “Yeah, I used that as an excuse so I wouldn’t get roped into another hour of irrigation talk.”
Zach visibly relaxes. His shoulders drop and the easy smirk returns. “God, I hear you. He’s been obsessed with the west quadrant for a week.”
Tarryn leans back in her chair, arms folded like she’s sizing him up. “What brings you in so early?”
“I’ve got an interview,” he says, flipping the clipboard to show off a résumé. “Replacement for Sadie.”
Just the sound of her name out of his mouth makes my stomach tighten.
“I know we talked about it,” Zach continues, “but we really need a certified sommelier in that role. Someone dependable. Professional. Knows their stuff inside and out.”
Tarryn gives a slow, diplomatic nod. “It’s your domain. But make sure you stay within budget.”
Zach waves a hand like it’s already done. “Of course.”
“Especially if we end up replacing irrigation on the west side,” she adds. “That’ll bite into the discretionary fund. We have no room beyond what we paid Sadie.”
Zach freezes. His smile falters. “Wait, seriously? I’d rather we pull back on the wine knick-knacks,” he says. “That stuff doesn’t even move.”
Tarryn shrugs. “It actually brings in the highest return margin per square foot. Talk to our suppliers. If the sommelier can’ t work for that, we can’t hire one. We’ll have to keep looking.”
Zach deflates, then forces another tight smile. “Right. Got it. I’ll figure it out.”
They chat for a few more minutes—small talk, staffing, a mention of a new rosé label he wants to test—and then he heads out. As soon as the door shuts behind him, I glance at Tarryn. She’s already clicking the camera feed back open.
“You notice how fast he got here?” I ask.
She smirks. “Max calls, and he bolts down here. And now…”
She scans the screen, finding the tasting room feed. Zach’s already outside, phone to his ear, pacing in front of the barrels.
“Maybe we should put him in charge of the irrigation project,” I say. “At least then we know it’ll never get done.”
Tarryn laughs under her breath. “Don’t tempt me.”
I stand, stretch, and glance at the clock. “You going to family dinner tomorrow night?”
She tilts her head. “Of course. Free meal. You?”
I shake mine. “I don’t know yet. I’m on call at midnight, and as of now, I’ve been up almost thirty hours. If I don’t get horizontal soon, I’ll pass out standing. I can’t make any decisions right now.”
“Then go sleep,” she says, waving me off. “We’ve got this.”
I nod, already dragging my body toward the door.
The ride home is a blur. I don’t remember the turns or the lights or even putting the Jeep in park. I just stumble inside, go straight to the bedroom, draw the blackout curtains, and collapse on the bed. Before I shut my eyes, I somehow remember to text Sadie the good news.
Me: I just spoke to Tarryn, and she wants you back. Take another week of paid bereavement leave—and you’ll also be paid for the week you’ve been off—and let her know when you’re ready to return.
Then, after two days of chaos, everything goes quiet.