12. Like Fine Wine
LIKE FINE WINE
Rory.
“—And over here is the bar where we’ll serve the wine and cheese boards.”
Patch stood behind the counter with one hand resting on the polished wood and the other gesturing toward the spread we had set up.
The travel agent stepped closer, eyes scanning every detail. “Local?”
“Of course,” Patch answered without hesitation.
He’d better. We rehearsed this a million times.
“Everything here is sourced from within the region. Cheese from two farms down the road. Honey from a supplier we’ve worked with for years.
Even the bread is baked fresh every morning from a local bakery. ”
Nice.
Then he reached for one of the bottles and held it up slightly.
“This one right here,” he continued, “is from our lower vineyard. The soil there holds more moisture, so the grapes come out a little fuller. You get a richer taste, but it’s still balanced.”
One of the influencers leaned in, recording. “Can we taste that one?”
Patch smiled. “That’s what we here for.”
He poured carefully, steady hands, no rush. He handed the glass over with a small nod, watching her reaction without hovering.
“Oh, that’s fucking good.”
I exhaled. After three weeks of work, that simple sentence would sound like music in anyone’s ear. One of the influencers Orim invited out leaned against the counter.
“What about music? Do you have a set? Or live band?”
“No live band,” Patch started.
“Yet!” I cut in, saving him. Wine and cheese was his expertise. Music was something I’d handle. “We may get a jazz band once a week or so. R&B on most nights depending on the crowd. We want it to feel relaxed but still intentional.”
I pointed toward the back hallway. “That’s why we also have a smoke room. It’s stocked with cigars, Oro Blanco, per the owner’s request. We also got hookah and the ventilation system was installed last week so no smoke bleeds into the main space.”
The group nodded, taking it in. I did too lowkey.
Three weeks ago, this space had been unusable.
The floors had to be lifted in sections where the wood had softened.
The support beams in the corners were reinforced first, then treated so they wouldn’t take on more damage.
We sealed the roof—and by we I meant Patch and his team—replaced panels that had started to warp, and fixed the doors so they would actually close and lock.
The walls were stripped down and repainted. Lighting was installed along the beams and lower walls so the space didn’t feel closed in at night. The bar had to be built from scratch. Refrigeration came in late and almost pushed us behind schedule, but we adjusted.
Since we were renovating this space, I thought it best to give the entrance of the main building a face lift too. An open concept was added which drew guests to the beautiful windows that faced the vineyard.
The reception desk still was left untouched as per Marlon’s unreasonable request. But I’ve learned to pick my battles.
Outside, we cleared a path wide enough for small groups to walk through without stepping into the rows. Gravel was laid down. Seating was placed in sections so people could move without crowding each other.
It was gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to open it officially in the coming weeks. Another guest stepped forward.
“Do you have a launch date in mind?”
“Yes, in about three weeks. Hopefully, I come up with a name by then.”
They laughed but I was being serious.
“Also, we have a little showcase in the coming days, you should’ve received an email about it. Feel free to invite anyone with…sway to the event. Politicians, vendors, travel agents, vloggers. We want them all!”
They jotted that down.
The same guest spoke up again. “What about something for the more…cultured crowd such as the politicians? Do you have anything vintage?”
Patch glanced at me.
“We do,” I said. “But those are stored separately.”
The guest smiled. “I’d love to try one. I don’t mind the extra cost.”
The cost was the least of my worries. Actually getting the bottle was my issue.
“Of course,” I smiled back. “How about this? Let’s let Patch here wrap up the presentation and we can split the bottle. On us.”
“Oh, I love that!” She squeezed my forearm.“Will the owner be joining us?”
My smile wavered. “My father is not here today but he will be for the opening party.”
“Oh, I see. Well, what about the other owner? Marlon? Is he in?”
I grimaced and tried but failed to cover it with a smile. “Yes. He’s in. I’ll go fetch him and the wine. Give me a few minutes.”
She looked at me warily. “Oh… okay.”
I turned, already moving before anyone could ask anything else.
Everything about this place had changed in three weeks.
Not just the space.
Marlon and I did too. He got so damn snappy with me, I ended up kicking his ass off the project in the first week. It didn’t even matter because the following Monday, he was in the shed, stripping old paint from the walls.
When I asked what he was doing and told him he couldn’t be in there anymore, he just said: “My property, my shed, my rules.”
I told him to kiss my ass and it went up from there.
He could be so confusing. One second he wanted nothing to do with me and the next he’s up my ass. Especially when Wyatt’s involved.
I stepped out into the hallway, the noise of the room fading behind me as I moved toward the back exit. The air outside hit differently.
The vineyard stretched out in front of me, rows of vines moving slightly with the breeze. Lights had been placed along the pathways earlier that week. Not bright enough to distract but noticeable enough to guide people without taking away from the atmosphere.
Another change was adding a golf cart shuttle from the office to the shed, so no one had to take that hike just to get here. It also was an opportunity for the workers to make some extra tips by being the driver.
Wyatt came up with the concept.
I paused for a second.
Where was Wyatt anyway?
I hadn’t seen him since guests started arriving. I had seen Hart either, or Lav, or the dickhead.
Did they all take lunch and leave me and Patch to do all the work?
Nah.
Wyatt’s not like that. He’s probably with the horses. He liked them more than people. That thought in mind, I took the shuttle over there.
“Hey boys,” I said as I passed the stables.
Titan lifted his head first, ears alert then Spades followed, slower but just as aware.
I stepped closer, resting my hand along Titan’s neck. “Y’all seen that white boy around?”
A blink.
“Oh. I see how it is. You hiding him?”
Now I get a tail swipe.
“Y’all behaving?”
He huffed softly, nudging into my palm.
“No, I’m working,” I added. “Don’t get used to this attention.”
Spades shifted slightly in his stall.
“I didn’t forget about you,” I said, reaching over to him next. “Relax.”
For a second, everything felt… easy.
And I forgot where I was and what I was doing. Then I thought of Chewy and how I’d need to take him for a walk in the rows when this was all done.
He probably felt cramped in my office.
Then my mind drifted… and drifted until—
“Rory?”
I turned at the sound of Wyatt’s voice.
“Is this about her?”
It was coming from inside Marlon’s office. He had the side door cracked and I couldn’t help myself.
“This ain’t got nothing to do with Aurora.”
I stepped close enough to hear everything.
Wyatt didn’t sound convinced. “Obviously it does. You’ve been acting different with me since she got here. Now this?”
Marlon didn’t raise his voice.
“It’s not her, Wyatt. It’s business. You know your contract is up. It’s time to move on.”
“You didn’t have a problem with me staying on board before, so what’s wrong now?”
Marlon didn’t respond and I didn’t need to see his face to know his expression.
Blank.
“I’m not stupid, Marlon. I made that request to partner with Aurora in this new venture and all of a sudden I gotta leave?”
Partner with me? I don’t know anything about that.
“Like I said,” Marlon sounded ice cold. “The contract is up. And the decision to partner with this new venture lies with me, not Aurora. I have to approve it.”
“It’s her idea,” Wyatt pushed. “Did you even ask Dillon?”
“I don’t have to ask Dillon about shit that happens on my land. That build and the renovations are my responsibility. Aurora is my responsibility and your access to both have been used up with your contract.”
“That’s it?” Wyatt asked. “Just like that?”
“That’s how this works.”
I moved closer to the door without thinking.
My hand brushed against the frame as I leaned in to hear better.
“You brought me here,” Wyatt continued. “You asked me to stay longer than I planned. You said you needed help—”
“And I got it,” Marlon replied. “I appreciate that. Thank you for your service. Payments will be finalized by the end of the week so if you—”
A pause.
“What do you need, Ms. Rodriguez?”
Fuck.
Caught slipping.
I straightened and pushed the door open like nothing and I hadn’t been standing there listening.
“Do you have the key to the cellar?” I asked, then cleared my throat. “A guest wants something vintage.”
Marlon looked at me for a second. Then nodded.
“Yeah. I’ll take you down.”
“I can do it by myself.”
“You don’t know where it is.”
“Then Lavender can show me.”
“I sent her and your little TaskRabbit home for the day.”
That irritated me more than it should’ve.
“Why?”
“This lil’ event you got going on has shut down production for the day. Don’t make sense having unnecessary staff on the payroll.”
“Hm,” I tilted my head. “You just getting rid of everybody you think is unnecessary, huh?”
He didn’t react. He just gave me the same flat, blank look I imagined.
Like nothing touched him and none of this, none of us, meant anything.
Wyatt stepped closer then. “Rory. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be good.”
Before I could respond, his hand came up, resting on my head for a second in a familiar pat that caught me off guard.
“I need some air,” he said instead. “Come see me when you’re free, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.