Chapter 16
Jake
B y the time lunch rolls around, I’m starving.
I pull off my gloves, wipe the sweat off my forehead, and wave Emi and Javier over. “Let’s head down to the house and grab a bite to eat,” I tell them.
By their enthusiastic response, I can tell I’m not the only one ready for a break.
It’s been a crazy morning, filled with lots of hard physical labor and on-the-job instruction. They’re both quick learners, though, and I’m so glad Dr. Armstrong recommended these two. It’s still going to be a slog, managing everything with a skeleton crew instead of the full team we’d be using under normal circumstances. But for the first time since I impulsively volunteered for this, I feel like I can actually make it work.
We can make it work.
Back at the house, we clean up in the mudroom and I show the interns to the kitchen. Javier and I put together sandwiches while Emi grabs the bowl of fruit in the fridge and a bag of chips out of the cabinet. Remembering Rosa’s reaction to finding me on the front porch the other day, I lead them to the backyard and set up the picnic table for lunch.
It’s better for a meal anyway.
Emi and Javier sit down and dig in, chattering away, while I return to the kitchen for pitchers of ice water and lemonade and some glasses. I’m trying to figure out how to open the back door with my hands full when I hear the front door.
Rosa’s home apparently.
“Hey,” I call out, not wanting to startle her. I hear her drop something by the front door—probably her purse—and she follows the sound of my voice to the back.
“Hi,” she says with a fake smile. There are worry lines around her eyes and her face looks paler than usual, and I wonder what happened this morning to make her look that way. Then her gaze drops to my overfull hands. “Here, let me take some of that.”
I give up the pitcher of water with a smile, and she opens the back door.
“Oh!” She spots Emi and Javier, who both look up from their lunch as we walk out. “Sorry—I didn’t realize…”
I put down my pitcher and glasses and take the water from her. “No, my fault. I should have let you know we were having a lunch break.”
“I hope you don’t mind us barging in,” Emi says, twisting her napkin between her hands. “We probably should have asked first.”
“Of course not,” Rosa says, her smile genuine this time. “This house is as much a part of the operation as the vineyard is. You’re always welcome to stop in for a meal, something to drink, or a bathroom break. Seriously.”
Javier lifts the platter of sandwiches. “Want to join us? We’ve got plenty.”
Rosa shoots me a look I can’t interpret, then squares her shoulders and says, “I’d love to. I’ll just go grab another plate and cup.”
I wave her off. “No, sit down. I’ll take care of it.” I hurry inside before she can turn it into a battle of wills, and come back out to find her deep in conversation with Javi and Emi.
If a part of me is a little annoyed that she’s not talking to me, well, it’s better if I ignore it. I’m just happy she’s not looking like someone stole her favorite toy anymore.
I spend most of lunch watching as Rosa ignores me while chattering away with Emi and Javier. They pepper her with questions about growing up on a winery, being part of a winemaking family tradition, what it’s like being a woman in a traditionally masculine field. Emi is hanging on her every word.
I’m doing my best not to be jealous, but it’s a close thing.
She subtly shifts the conversation to how the internship is going for Javier and Emi, and in no time the two of them are stumbling over each other to tell her how much they’re loving their experience on Caparelli so far.
It’s only been a week, but I’m feeling pretty damn good about it, too.
But I’m not feeling good about this lunch. Something is wrong.
As they tell her about everything they’ve done today, I watch Rosa’s face. She’s listening to them and smiling, but there’s something bothering her.
Even after ten years apart, I can still tell.
I’m not sure what she and Sasha were up to this morning, but it looks like something happened to upset her. Did she run into her uncle somewhere?
“Anything exciting happen this morning, Rosa?” I wince inwardly as I watch three heads turn in my direction. I’ve completely derailed the conversation, and not in a delicate, considerate way like Rosa just did.
Subtle, I am not.
“What?” She’s frowning now, a wrinkle between her eyebrows.
I shrug. “Just wondering how your day has been so far. You and Sasha get up to anything interesting?”
She shakes her head. “Just grabbed coffee.”
“That’s nice.” I flash a smile at her, but her frown grows deeper.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just that it’s nice you spent some time together. Aren’t you…best friends?” I’m completely out of my depth, and I have no idea why.
“Yep.” She stands and starts gathering the dishes.
“Here, I’ll help.” Emi grabs a pitcher and follows Rosa into the kitchen.
Maybe it’s just me, but that seems like a weird reaction to a perfectly normal question. I wonder if there’s some bad blood between her and Sasha these days; they’ve been friends forever, but who knows what’s happened over the past ten years.
Clearly, not me.
Javier looks at me, baffled. I shrug and stack some plates, clearing the rest of the table. We walk back into the kitchen where Rosa stands at the sink, washing up dishes and studiously avoiding me.
Fine.
“All right, crew, let’s get back to the vines.” I clap my hands together. Emi folds the dish towel and leaves it on the counter, and Javier puts what’s left of the lemonade in the fridge.
“Thanks again,” Javier says, and Rosa shakes off the comment with a smile.
“Anytime,” she says, looking pointedly at Emi and Javier.
I roll my eyes and turn to go. Whatever’s put her in this mood, at least I know it wasn’t me.
* * *
Back in the fields, I show Emi and Javier how to trim the excess leaves and shoots of summer growth to allow the clusters of grapes to grow correctly, and we each take a different row to focus on. A lot of people consider it tedious, repetitive work, but it’s not something you can skimp on if you want a decent crop. I fall into the rhythm of it easily, letting my mind wander a little as I run my fingers up each shoot, pinching off the side growth and thinning out the leaves. It’s as much art as it is science, finding the right balance of shade and sun to let the grapes reach their highest potential.
Every few minutes I check on Emi and Javier in their rows, pointing out the best cuts to make and the optimal shade coverage to leave behind. They’re both picking it up really quickly, and I can’t help it—I’m fucking proud of the work they’re doing.
I clap Javier on the back and head over to my row, mentally composing an email to Dr. Armstrong thanking her again for sending us these superstars, when a noise at the bottom of the hill catches my attention.
Dust is rising from the gravel road, and I realize the noise is made by a vehicle driving our direction.
There isn’t a lot of traffic on this road, for good reason—it’s more of a private spur between Caparelli and the winery formerly known as Take Flight , a quick cut-through between the two properties. I shade my eyes with my forearm as a sheriff’s truck pulls to a stop at the base of the vineyard.
I’m already headed down the hill as a guy in full sheriff’s uniform gets out of the truck and shuts the door. He’s wearing a white cowboy hat and mirrored shades and looks a bit uptight. He also looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him beyond that.
His work boots crunch on the gravel as he rounds the back of the truck. I stop at the end of the row and nod at him. “Hello, Officer. Can I help you?”
“It’s Deputy .” He takes off his sunglasses and inclines his head. “Are you in charge here?”
That’s a loaded question, but I just answer, “Yes. What’s going on?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to shut you down.”
By this time, Emi and Javier have walked up beside me, and I can see their worried glances out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m sorry, Deputy…” I pause and wait for him to tell me his name.
“Romero.”
“Deputy Romero, what do you mean, shut us down ?” None of this makes any sense.
He flips open a tablet and scrolls down the screen. “Lack of proper permits, lack of payment for said permits, unapproved size of operation…”
I hold up a hand. “Okay, hang on.”
Turning to Emi, I lean down and say, “Go get Rosa.”
She nods and sprints down the road to the house.
Facing the deputy again, I say, “Those are some serious accusations. Do you have evidence?”
He sighs. “I’m not a lawyer. I’ve been asked to follow up on some complaints, so here I am. And until I have proof otherwise, you and your crew will have to cease operations.”
I fucking hate bureaucracy, but I hate the idea of losing precious workdays even more. “What kind of proof do you need?”
He opens his mouth, probably to launch into more bureaucratic nonsense, but we’re interrupted by the sound of Rosa and Emi running up the road to join us.
Rosa stops in front of the deputy and smiles politely, even though she’s breathing hard from racing up the hill. “How can I help you?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m one of the owners of Caparelli.”
He looks between us. “Okay, who’s actually in charge here?”
She waves a hand casually at me. “Jake is my vineyard manager. I’m Rosa Martinelli. As I said, I’m an owner.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with your family,” the cop says cryptically.
Rosa furrows her brow at him but lets the comment pass. “What seems to be the problem, sir?”
He repeats the complaints while I watch Rosa’s face. She listens intently, and when he’s done, she just nods. “I’ll be right back.”
Javier, Emi, Deputy Romero, and I stand in the road and watch her hustle back to the house. I’m not quite sure what’s going on in her head, but she seems to have things under control, so I turn back to the interns and tell them to take a water break.
Romero looks at me suspiciously, but I just shrug and say, “Gotta stay hydrated.”
I don’t know what to make of him. He looks like he’s probably older than Javier but younger than me, and he’s now holding that stupid white cowboy hat in both hands, which—whatever makes you happy, buddy.
Though come to think of it, he doesn’t look very happy.
He slaps the hat on again as Rosa comes back up the road, clutching a file folder in her arms.
“Okay.” She stops next to me, her chin tilted up in challenge. “Here are the permits.” She takes a couple of pages out of the folder and hands them over. “Canceled check for payment.” Another sheet of paper smacks his palm. “Survey of vineyard property, dated right after we inherited, that shows we are officially a small winery, not a microwinery .” She holds out the folder. “Don’t worry—the originals are back at the house. You can keep the copies.”
He opens his mouth to speak, then snaps it shut.
I don’t blame him. That was pretty hot.
“Thanks,” he says, his mouth a thin line. “Looks like you’ve got all the bases covered.”
“Yes, I do.”
Pretty hot? Beyond that. Way beyond.
“Sorry to bother you. I’m required to follow up on complaints, you understand.”
She crosses her arms. “Any chance you could share where the complaints are coming from?”
He shakes his head.
“That’s what I figured.” She tilts her head. “Are we free to continue working?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nods. “Let me know if you need anything else.” Then she turns to me and says, “You and the crew can get back to work.”
Then the four of us watch as Romero tips his hat, swings back into his truck, and drives off down the road.
“That was pretty impressive,” I say, smiling at Rosa. “But then, you were always a whiz at paperwork.”
She just looks back, her face impassive. “Some things are too important to leave up to someone else.”
I don’t think she’s talking about the winery right now.
“I’d rather take care of it myself and make sure everything is done right. Otherwise I could find myself in a huge mess with no way out.”
Definitely not the winery paperwork.
She smiles at Emi and Javier. “Enjoy the rest of the afternoon. If you need more water, come on down to the house. Don’t want you two to get heat stroke.”
That two makes her feelings about me pretty damn clear. I’m just not sure what I’ve done this time to deserve it.
Without looking at me, she turns on her heel and heads back to the house.