Chapter Twenty-Three
Alara sat in the back of Ollie's Cullinan with Reaves, clinging tight to his hand.
She knew that wasn't fair. He was the one who should be nervous, not her.
She looked over at him, and he smiled and squeezed her hand.
He didn't look nervous in the least. That calm stillness seemed to radiate off him this morning.
Delaney sat up front with Ollie. The four of them were on their way to Sterling Hartman's offices—and she hadn't expected that.
To be fair, none of them had. The meeting was supposed to happen at the estate.
Aaron and Caleb were going to come to them.
But everything had changed yesterday, when Delaney had called to say Caleb wanted them to come into the offices.
Delaney hadn't seemed too surprised. She'd said it was a move—that they liked to make people come to them. Made them feel important. Reaves wasn't flustered by it. But Alara kept trying to figure out what it meant, and she couldn't.
When they arrived, she stared up at the tall steel building and shuddered. Reaves put his hand at the small of her back.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just this place. It doesn't look like…" She stopped herself. She didn't want to say anything about it not being where House of St. James belonged—and that wasn't what she meant anyway. She smiled. "But this is the business side of things, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is." He looked up at the building, too. "And the business side is what we need. We've got the heart, and the art, and the talent covered. Sterling Hartman is just a structure and a delivery system."
Delaney smiled at him. "Exactly. Now, are you ready to do this, champ?"
He let out a short laugh and rolled his eyes at Ollie. "It feels like we're back in Little League and she's trying to talk me up."
Ollie laughed with him, and Delaney said, "Hey. I'll do whatever it takes. I know you're out of your comfort zone here."
Reaves stood a little taller. "That's the whole point, isn't it? House of St. James got a little too comfortable. That was the problem. And besides—this is only uncomfortable because it's unfamiliar."
"True," Delaney agreed. "And once the deal's done, these guys will just be part of your everyday operations." She looked around at them. "Ready to go in?"
"I am," said Ollie. "And you're sure you want me to keep quiet?" he asked Reaves.
"Yeah. I need to handle this. I'll give you the nod if it becomes necessary. But I've got it."
The four of them rode up in a brushed steel elevator, and Alara couldn't help thinking it felt about as far from Charles's estate as you could get in this town.
An assistant showed them to the meeting room, and Delaney rapped on the door before marching straight in. Reaves turned to Alara before they followed Ollie.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"I am. Are you?"
"I'm good. It's all good. And it's all gonna be all right, no matter how this goes."
The meeting room was huge, a wall of windows looking out over the valley. Alara suspected that was the whole point of bringing them here. It felt as though they were saying, look how far above it all we sit. She brought her attention back to the room.
Aaron Sterling got to his feet and smiled in greeting. Caleb Hartman didn't look up, not at first. He was reading something, and he finished the line before he even acknowledged them.
Delaney's lips pressed into a thin line, and Ollie glanced warily at Caleb as he shook hands with Aaron. Reaves strode across the room and put his hand out to Aaron as though he owned the place.
"Aaron. Good to see you again." He turned to Caleb and thrust his hand out. "Caleb. Thanks for making the time."
Alara tried to hide a smile as Caleb got to his feet to shake hands. It was like watching a chess match. Caleb had tried to establish his authority—and Reaves had just quietly refused to play the game.
Once they were all seated around the table, Aaron went first. It was like good cop, bad cop. Aaron was warm and funny, obviously the visionary of the pair. He welcomed them and explained a little about their offices and the way they worked. Caleb didn't say anything. He sat, and he watched.
And as she watched him watching them, it dawned on her that she wasn't frightened of him. She recognized him. He wasn't watching and judging. He needed to be sure about the people he was dealing with.
When Aaron had done his welcome, Delaney laid the presentation out across the table. The gold leaf on the labels caught the light from the window, and Aaron smiled when it caught his eye.
"You've seen the concept," Delaney said.
"I won't try to sell you on what we all know you already want.
Rooted in Stillness. It puts House of St. James exactly where the Provenance line lives—heritage, permanence, the real thing in a market full of the manufactured kind.
Aaron, you told me yourself it was the strongest thing you'd seen come across your desk this year. "
Aaron glanced at Alara and gave her a slight nod.
Caleb put his hand down flat on the table. "The branding's beautiful. I've never said otherwise. My concern was never the branding."
Alara wanted to feel good that she'd done her part—but that wasn't the point. She turned, they all did, when Reaves said, "I know."
Caleb turned his hand over, as if gesturing for Reaves to go on.
"Your concern is whether we can deliver," said Reaves.
"Whether the wine behind the beautiful label shows up on schedule, at volume, at the standard the label promises.
Whether House of St. James is only a beautiful brand—or whether we're a reliable supplier.
" He smiled at Caleb. "At least, that's the question I'd ask if I were sitting where you are. "
Caleb's expression didn't change, and everyone else in the room seemed to hold their breath.
"My father is the finest winemaker I've ever known," Reaves continued.
"He'll tell you himself that he fell behind on the rest of it.
The logistics, the scale, the schedules.
He's the first to say it. That's why I'm here.
" He didn't look to Ollie for support, and Ollie didn't offer any.
"I've spent the last several years running flight operations.
Maintaining aircraft. Running schedules with no give in them.
In aviation, late isn't a word you get to use—when you're moving people through the air, mistakes cost lives.
I know how to manage logistics. I know how to manage a schedule.
" He finally turned toward Ollie and smiled.
"And in aviation, you can't afford a single point of failure.
That's why you have a flight crew. A team.
And that's what we have now, at House of St. James. "
Ollie smiled and nodded, but didn't interrupt, as Reaves went on.
"We've spent the last few weeks with Jacob and Bentley and Willow, going through every part of the operation.
The cellar, the yield, the bottling timeline, the shipping.
We've built out the delivery schedule for the first two years of the Provenance run.
It's conservative—because I'd rather promise you less and over-deliver than the other way around.
" He slid a folder across the table to Caleb.
"That's yours. Take it apart. If there's a number in there you don't believe, I want to know which one. "
Caleb opened it and read slowly, while the rest of them waited.
Alara realized she was holding her breath, and made herself breathe again. It was Delaney who filled the silence, casually examining one long fingernail.
"While we wait, I'll say the part no one else at this table is going to say.
" She smiled. "You're not the only distributor who's noticed that House of St. James is about to be worth a great deal more than it was last quarter.
I've had calls. Bentley and Jacob have had calls.
There's interest. You know how fast word travels.
" She paused. "And of course, you already carry Stratton Wines.
And good accounts have a way of following the people who own them. "
She didn't point to Ollie. She didn't need to.
Aaron laughed out loud. "There she is. I knew the claws would come out at some point."
"I'm only telling you what you already know, Aaron. Just making conversation while your partner reads."
Caleb closed the folder. Alara's heart rate picked up when, for the first time since they'd come in, he looked directly at her.
"You did the labels."
It wasn't a question, but she answered it anyway. "I did."
"Why the gold leaf?"
Her mouth went dry. Was Delaney wrong? Did he think it was crazy to spend so much on the labels? She sat up straighter and cleared her throat. She knew the truth.
"The gold leaf isn't for the wine," she said.
"It's for the person picking up the bottle.
Real gold, laid by hand, that catches the light and moves when you turn it.
It feels like something that was made by a person who cared.
And that's what the Provenance line is all about, isn't it?
Craftsmanship." She hated that she didn't know the right words for wine but pushed on anyway.
"It's the feeling and the meaning that matter.
Your top shelf. Your high end. People are buying an experience, not just a wine.
" She answered the question he hadn't asked.
"And yes—embossing would have been cheaper.
And it would have looked expensive. But gold leaf is expensive.
People can tell the difference, even when they can't say what it is.
I didn't want to give them the version that only looked right. "
She finished, and refused to fidget, or to look away from his gaze.
He studied her a moment longer. And then, to her amazement, he gave her a small smile. "It was the right call."