Chapter 13 #2
"Thank you, Evan." My voice catches, and I clear my throat. "That means more than you know."
"It should." He glances around the room with the appraising eye of a man who has spent his life evaluating wineries.
"This winery is doing something special.
The terroir here is remarkable, and you've learned to let it speak.
" He pauses, and his expression shifts into something more serious.
"Which is why I wanted to talk to you in person. "
"Evan, we’re in the middle of an event." I keep my voice gentle because this is Evan, not Derek, but the timing is impossible. "This isn't the time."
Derek shoulders his way back into the conversation. "Evan is retiring at the end of the year. He's been looking for the right person to take over as head winemaker at Beaumont Crest, and he chose you, Sunny."
The words hang in the air between us, and for a brief, disoriented moment, I can't process them. Evan wants me to take over?
I don’t miss the flash of irritation on Evan’s face. "Like Sunny said, this isn’t the time or place."
Derek brushes aside the admonition. "We're prepared to make a significant offer.
" He pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket and sets it on my table.
"This lists the salary, equity stake, and full creative control over the winemaking program.
Evan insisted on those terms, and I agreed.
" When I don't move, he slides the envelope toward me.
"Take a look. You'll see that it's more than generous and much more than a piddly little place like this can give you. "
I catch a few gasps at Derek's blatant insult, and I refuse to even acknowledge him.
"Evan." I push the envelope away. "I'm honored that you thought of me. I mean that sincerely."
"But?" Evan reads the hesitation on my face before I can articulate it.
"But this is my home. Willow Sage gave me a chance when I was twenty-four and unproven, and I owe Isabelle and this winery more than I can express. It’s my blood, sweat, and work in these bottles right alongside that of her family. You, more than anyone, can appreciate that."
"You don't owe anyone your future, Sunny." Derek's voice sharpens, and the mask of casual charm slips enough to reveal the simmering contempt and impatience underneath. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Charlie's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into him. Derek's eyes drop to the contact, and his lips curl in a sneer, his slick facade fading.
"I'm Charlie Hayden." Charlie extends his free hand. "An investor of Willow Sage Winery."
Derek gives the hand a long look, weighing Charlie, then takes it. Almost immediately, he grimaces and yanks free, flicking his hand like it stung.
"I'm Derek Parker." His tone is the epitome of an elitist snob, as he straightens his jacket. "And from the looks of it, you're also something more than an investor."
"That's between me and Sunny." Charlie's tone is pleasant, and when he doesn't rise to the provocation, Derek's composure slips another degree.
Before Derek can respond, Isabelle appears at the station, and the look on her face could strip paint from a barn wall.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. I don't believe either of you were on the guest list." Her voice is controlled and carries the quiet authority that makes everyone snap to attention.
"This is a private event, and you need to leave. "
"We're simply having a conversation with your winemaker," Derek begins, and the dismissiveness in his tone is a miscalculation so severe that I almost feel sorry for him.
"You're conducting a recruitment pitch at my private business event, in my tasting room, in front of my guests.
" Isabelle's chin lifts, and her dark eyes don't blink.
"Your crassness is beyond measure. Sunny Reese built this wine program with her own hands.
She is not a commodity you can poach from my tasting room floor. I'm asking you to leave. Now."
Derek straightens, and his jaw works in a way that shows he isn't accustomed to women who don't fold when he pushes. "I think Sunny can decide for herself whether she'd like to hear what we have to say."
Diego materializes at Isabelle's shoulder, his arms crossed and his expression flat. Charlie hasn't moved from my side, his arm still wrapped protectively around me, but his posture has shifted into something more alert, his weight forward on the balls of his feet.
"My sister asked you to leave." Diego's voice is quiet and carries no threat, which somehow makes it more effective than shouting would. "I'd recommend taking her up on it."
"This isn't over, Sunny." Derek sneers, setting my teeth on edge. "I'll be in touch."
He storms toward the exit, his stride clipped enough to suggest his departure isn't voluntary. At the door, he glances over his shoulder, and his gaze drops once more to Charlie's hand on my waist before he pushes through and disappears.
Evan lingers. He turns to Isabelle with an expression of genuine contrition, his hands clasped in front of him. "Ms. Navarro, I apologize for the intrusion. This wasn't the approach I would have chosen, and I'm sorry for any disruption we've caused to your event."
Isabelle's jaw remains set, but some of the sharpness leaves her eyes. "I appreciate that."
Evan turns to me. "Sunny, I meant every word I said about your work. I wouldn't have come all this way if I didn't believe you're the right person for this." He reaches into his blazer and pulls out a business card, setting it on the untouched envelope.
"Take your time. Think about it. And whatever you decide, I'll respect it." His gaze is steady on mine, and the sincerity in it is so familiar that my throat tightens. "You turned out better than I ever imagined, kid."
I can't speak for a moment. When I manage it, my voice is rough. "I had the best teacher."
Evan's eyes soften, and the corner of his mouth lifts. He nods once and follows Derek without looking back.
The room resettles, and the conversations pick up again.
Tabitha sweeps by and removes the envelope and business card from my table, tucking them into her apron pocket with a look that says we'll deal with this later.
Isabelle exhales through her nose, smooths her hair, and turns back to her audience with her shoulders squared.
Charlie's hand rubs my back lightly. His lips brush my ear. "You okay?" he asks, low enough that only I can hear.
"Yeah. I'm fine." I take a breath. "Today’s too important to let that sleazebag screw it up. We need to finish this tasting."
He presses his lips to my temple, then steps away to give me space.
The remaining hour passes in a productive rhythm, and by the time the last guest leaves, Isabelle has collected thirty-four signed letters of intent.
The number is staggering. Tabitha does the math on a napkin and announces that we've replaced the Hill Country Distributing revenue and added forty percent on top of it.
The sound Isabelle makes is somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
With a whoop of delight, Diego wraps his arms around his sister and twirls her around.
Charlie hangs back near the bar, and the look on his face is pure satisfaction. I cross the room and walk into his open arms, hugging him.
"Thank you," I say, leaning back to meet his gaze. "For all of it."
"You did this, Sunny. The wine, the lineup, the pitch were all you. I just opened a few doors."
"You opened a lot of doors. And then you stood behind me when I needed you."
His thumb traces along my jaw. "I’ll always show up, Sunshine."
Tabitha and Diego begin breaking down the stations. Isabelle disappears into her office to make calls. Charlie helps, carrying tables and stacking chairs alongside Diego without a word of complaint, and by early evening the space looks like it did this morning, minus the candles and the linen.
Twenty minutes later, we've locked up and I'm standing in the parking lot with my keys in one hand, and Derek’s envelope in the other.
The adrenaline that carried me through the day drains out of me so fast that my knees go soft.
Charlie appears at my elbow and catches my arm before I register that I've swayed.
"Hey." His hand tightens on my arm. "When's the last time you ate?"
"That granola bar you gave me."
"Shit. That was four hours ago, Sunny."
"I was a little busy," I tease.
He walks me to my truck and opens the door, and I sit sideways on the seat with my feet hanging out, too tired to climb all the way in. He leans against the frame, watching me with the quiet patience he always has when he knows I need time to sort through my own head.
The honesty in his hazel eyes makes my throat ache. "I'm not going to take it, Charlie."
"I didn't ask."
"I know you didn't." I reach for his hand and hold it against my knee. "But I need you to hear me say it. Willow Sage is my home. These vines, these barrels, this land, all of it. I didn't fight to save this winery just to walk away."
He squeezes my hand, and the relief that crosses his face is brief but unmistakable. "Then come eat dinner with me, and we'll figure out the rest tomorrow."
I nod and swing my legs into the cab, and he closes the door behind me.
The event was a triumph and the winery is safe. Evan's words about my work are still ringing in my ears, warming places I didn't know needed warming.
But Derek's face at the door lingers too, that final look over his shoulder, the way his gaze dropped to Charlie's hand on my back before he turned away. He said he'd be in touch. And Derek always means what he says.
Charlie pulls out of the lot first, and I follow his taillights toward town. The evening should feel victorious. It should feel like a celebration.
Instead, the knots in my stomach tighten, and despite my words, I know I'm not done wrestling with this.