Chapter 15
Charlie
The highway northeast of Stephenville stretches flat and straight, and I should be reviewing our business strategy for the Fort Worth Stock Show. Instead, I am staring at the center line and replaying the look on Sunny's face when she told me she was flying to California.
Mason drives because I asked him to, which is unusual enough that he didn't press for the reason.
Cody sits in the back seat of the crew cab with his nose buried in the auction catalog, marking pages with a highlighter and muttering about conformation scores.
The kid has been buzzing since we left Twin Oaks, and under normal circumstances, his enthusiasm would fuel my own.
But these are not normal circumstances.
"You've been quiet since we hit the road," Mason comments finally. "You want to talk about it, or do you want to keep brooding like a bull with a burr under his tail?"
"I'm not brooding."
"Charlie, you've been staring at the same spot on the dashboard for forty miles." Mason shifts lanes around a slow-moving flatbed. "Cody, back me up here."
Cody glances up from the catalog. "You do look kind of rough, Uncle Charlie."
"Thank you both for the assessment." I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. The glass is cool against my temple, and the vibration of the road hums through my skull. "I'm fine."
Mason lets the silence sit for exactly one mile before he pushes again. "Is this about Sunny?"
Leave it to Mason to cut to the chase, he never misses a thing. When he does speak, he digs straight to the marrow.
"She flew to California yesterday." I open my eyes and stare at the Texas landscape scrolling past. "She's visiting Evan Reynolds at Beaumont Crest."
Mason's hands shift on the steering wheel. "The mentor. The one her ex brought to the tasting event."
I snort. Of course Rachel would have filled Mason in on what happened.
"One and the same." I run my hand down my face.
"And?" Mason prompts. "Do you think she’s taking their offer?"
"I have no idea. But I know she loves that man like a father." I swallow around the tightness in my throat. "Evan asked her to visit and give the proposal a proper hearing. She couldn't turn him down."
Mason whistles low. "Rachel told me about them showing up at your event and handing over an offer letter. That was ballsy."
"It was." My voice comes out rougher than I intend.
"And she turned it down, sight unseen." I pause, and the words that follow cost me more than I want to admit.
"But it wasn’t so simple. She spent the next few days distracted and upset, and by Tuesday she told me she needed to see Evan in person.
Said she owed him a real conversation, not a blanket rejection. "
"That's fair, I guess," Mason comments.
"I know. I told her I understood, and I really do. I drove her to the airport, kissed her goodbye, and told her to take all the time she needs." I stare at my hands. "And now I can't help thinking I've made a huge mistake."
The cab goes quiet. The engine hums. Tires hiss against asphalt.
I spent the whole damn night staring at the ceiling, turning the same thought over and over until it wore a groove in me.
I never told her. Three damned words, and I swallowed them every time the moment felt right, because it never seemed right enough.
Now she's seventeen hundred miles away sitting across from a man who's presenting her with everything she's dreamed of.
"You are a lot of things, Charlie. A coward isn't one of them." Mason's tone is flat with certainty. "But you do have a habit of giving people so much room that you forget to take up any yourself."
The observation hits harder than it should, probably because it's accurate.
I've spent weeks giving Sunny space, letting her come to me on her terms, reading her signals and matching her pace.
It's the right approach for a woman who builds walls the way Sunny does.
But somewhere along the way, the patience I was so proud of turned into something else, a convenient excuse for not putting my own heart fully on the line.
We cross the county line into Tarrant County, and the outskirts of Fort Worth begin to materialize on the horizon. Cody breaks the silence from the back seat.
"Uncle Charlie?" His voice is careful, the way a teenager sounds when he's about to wade into territory that might not be welcome. "You remember what Dad did when he was trying to keep Rachel from leaving the ranch?"
"I remember," I say.
"He didn't wait for the perfect moment. He made one."
Mason's jaw flexes, and a ghost of a smile crosses his face.
I turn in my seat to look at my nephew, and the quiet certainty in his young face is pure Mason, and it hits me like a two-by-four right to the head.
The Fort Worth Stockyards come into view as Mason navigates the downtown traffic. The grounds are buzzing with activity, trailers lining the lots, handlers walking horses between the barns, and the familiar scent of hay and livestock fills the air.
We check in at the exhibitor gate and get our credentials. Wade trailered our horses down yesterday, and by the time we reach the assigned barn, he has the stalls set up and the animals settled.
"Everything's in order," Wade reports, handing me the vet paperwork. "Colby was a little restless in the trailer, but he settled once I got him in the stall."
"Good." I flip through the papers and sign where indicated, but the words blur on the page. My mind keeps circling back to a woman three states west, sitting across from the man who taught her everything, listening to an offer that could change her life…and mine.
Our horses look magnificent. The two-year-old filly Wade has been training turns heads the moment she enters the ring, moving with a fluid grace that draws murmurs from the experienced breeders in the stands.
Colby performs flawlessly in the stallion showcase, and by mid-afternoon, we've fielded inquiries from six different operations interested in our program.
Mason handles the conversations with the natural authority of a man who's been in this world his entire life. Cody stands beside him, shaking hands and answering questions about the horses with a poise that makes me proud. The two of them have it covered.
Which is perfect because my mind is not on the horses, the show, or even in Fort Worth.
I catch myself checking my phone between events, hoping for a message from Sunny that hasn't come. She texted me when she landed late last night.
Made it safe. Evan picked me up at the airport. Talk soon.
Nothing since. The silence is louder than Kevin at feeding time.
During a break between showings, I walk to a quiet corner behind the horse barns and make two phone calls.
The first is to my attorney in Austin.
"Richard, I have a job for you." I lean against the barn wall and lower my voice. "I want a private investigator on something. Quietly."
"Of course, Charlie. What do you need?"
"A background on two people. Derek Parker, a trust fund kid out of California.
He is in the process of purchasing a winery called Beaumont Crest in Sonoma County.
I want to know everything. His financials, his business history, his reputation, and where his money comes from.
" I pause. "The second is Evan Reynolds, the head winemaker at Beaumont Crest. He's planning to retire, and I want to understand the circumstances of the sale and whether he had any leverage in the deal. "
Richard is quiet for a moment. "This wouldn't happen to be connected to the winery you invested in, would it?"
"It's connected to someone I care about. How fast can you get me something?"
"I'll put someone on it today. Expect preliminary results within twenty-four hours, maybe sooner."
"Good. Call me the second you have anything."
I hang up and dial the second number.
Isabelle answers on the third ring, and the brisk efficiency in her voice tells me she's in the middle of something. "Charlie. How's the stock show?"
"Going well. The horses are showing strong, and we've had solid interest." I get to the point. "I want to talk to you about Sunny."
The pause that follows is brief but loaded. "What about her?"
"Sunny turned down that offer without looking at it, but she's in California right now visiting Evan. I think we need to give her another reason to stay that goes beyond loyalty."
"She went to California?" The sharpness in Isabelle's voice tells me she didn't know the full story. "She told me she needed a few days. I didn't realize she went there."
"She left yesterday. She didn’t like the way things went down at the tasting and felt she owed Evan a proper conversation.
" I take a breath. "Isabelle, Sunny has given five years of her life to Willow Sage.
She built your wine program from the ground up.
Whatever Derek put in that letter, we should be offering her something better. "
Isabelle is quiet for a long moment. I can hear the distant sounds of the winery in the background, Tabitha's laugh, the clink of glasses.
"I've been thinking along the same line," Isabelle says finally.
"Diego and I discussed it last weekend. We were already considering offering Sunny a partnership stake, but the timing never felt right.
" She pauses. "The distributor event changed things.
Watching that douchebag try to pull the rug out from under us made me realize how much we've taken for granted. "
"You're open to it then?"
"I'm more than open to it. I'll draft a proposal with our attorney and have something ready by the time she gets back." Isabelle's voice firms. "Sunny Reese is not leaving this winery. Not on my watch."
"Thank you, Isabelle."
"Don't thank me. She earned it and I should have done this years ago." A wry note enters her voice. "And Charlie? Whatever's happening between you two, don't screw it up. She's the best winemaker in Hill Country, but she's also my friend."