Chapter 15 #2
"I don't intend to screw anything up."
"Good. Now go show those horses and stop worrying." She hangs up, and I pocket my phone and head back to the barns.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a productive blur.
The horses draw steady attention from serious buyers, and Mason handles every conversation with the same ease.
Cody stays close, listening more than he talks, taking it all in.
I should be right there with them. But I’m drifting through the afternoon like a man with his head in the clouds.
I should be celebrating. Instead, I'm standing in the barn aisle at four o'clock, brushing Colby's coat in long strokes while my phone sits on the tack box, silent.
My phone rings at four-fifteen, and I answer before the second ring.
"Mr. Hayden, this is Jack Moreno. Richard Calloway retained me for the background work you requested." The investigator's voice is businesslike and direct. "I have preliminary findings on both subjects."
"Go ahead."
"Derek Parker, age thirty-two. Middle child of Douglas and Catherine Parker of Newport Beach, California.
The family wealth comes from commercial real estate, primarily shopping centers and office parks throughout Southern California.
Derek's trust fund was established at eighteen with a reported value north of one hundred and thirty million, structured with performance conditions that require him to demonstrate financial responsibility through legitimate business ventures. "
I lean against Colby's stall and listen.
"Here's where it gets interesting. Derek has a documented pattern of acquiring businesses, running them poorly, and selling them at a loss, including a restaurant group in LA, a boutique hotel in Napa, and a small tech startup in San Francisco.
His parents issued a formal warning through their family attorney four months ago.
The terms were straightforward. He has to prove he can run a profitable operation, or the trust disbursements get suspended.
The purchase of Beaumont Crest appears to be an attempt to satisfy that requirement. "
"He's not buying it because he cares about wine."
"The evidence strongly suggests his primary motivation is preserving access to his trust fund.
The purchase price was below market value, which leads me to the second subject.
" Moreno pauses. "Evan Reynolds, age sixty-four.
He's been the owner and head winemaker at Beaumont Crest for close to forty years and has turned down multiple acquisition offers over the past decade.
Something changed in the past year. My initial read is that the decision to sell wasn't entirely voluntary, but I'm still pulling threads on that.
I should have more within the next day or two. "
"What kind of threads?"
"Financial pressure, possibly medical expenses. Reynolds doesn't have the profile of a man who sells willingly, especially at a discount. I'll have a clearer picture soon."
"Call me the minute you know more."
"Will do, Mr. Hayden." The line goes dead.
I stand in the barn aisle with Colby's brush in my hand, processing what I just heard.
Derek Parker is a trust fund baby trying to save his inheritance by buying a winery he'll almost certainly ruin.
And Evan, the man who built Beaumont Crest's reputation with his own hands, may have been pressured into selling.
I picture Sunny's hands on a barrel, the quiet certainty in her voice when she talks about fermentation and terroir, the years of patient work layered into every bottle.
Derek ran a restaurant group into the ground.
A boutique hotel. A tech startup. Each one someone else's life's work, gutted and discarded so he could move on to the next.
The thought of him doing that to Beaumont Crest, to the program that means so much to Sunny makes my hand tighten on the brush until the bristles bend.
Sunny needs to know. But telling her over the phone while she's sitting across from Evan feels wrong. She deserves to hear this face to face, from someone who can hold her hand while the full picture comes into focus.
I find Mason and Cody at the exhibitor lounge, eating barbecue from a food truck outside the main pavilion. I drop into the chair across from Mason and relay everything, keeping my voice low enough that the neighboring tables can't hear.
"So Derek's a spoiled rich kid trying to keep his allowance, and Evan might have been squeezed into the sale." Mason leans back. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Isabelle and I are putting together an ownership stake for Sunny at Willow Sage. That part's handled." I pick at the label on my water bottle.
Mason studies me for a long moment. The noise of the stockyards fades to background static, and the look on my brother-in-law's face tells me he already knows what I need to do.
"You're about as useful to us here as a screen door on a submarine," Mason says.
"What?"
"Charlie, you've barely been here all day.
You missed a conversation with the buyer from the Rocking M because you were staring at your phone.
You almost walked Colby into a water trough during the afternoon showcase.
" Mason leans forward. "Cody and I have the show handled.
Wade's here. We don't need you standing around looking like somebody kicked your dog. "
"I can't just leave in the middle of the stock show."
"You can, and you should." Mason's voice drops. "Go get your woman, Charlie, before somebody else plants roots under her feet."
I stare at him. "You're serious."
"You think I got Rachel by sitting around on my ass?" He picks up his fork and goes back to his barbecue. "There's a flight out of DFW to San Francisco every couple of hours. Go."
Cody looks up from his plate. "I'll take care of Colby, Uncle Charlie. I know his routine."
The kid doesn’t blink, his eyes brimming with the confidence that belongs to someone twice his age. "Go."
I look between my nephew and my brother-in-law, and the certainty on both their faces settles that sick feeling I’ve had since I watched Sunny disappear through the airport doors. I nod my head, not trusting my voice.
I push back from the table and dial my charter service. They can have a plane ready at DFW within the hour. I tell them to make it happen.
Mason catches my arm as I stand. "Charlie."
"Yeah?"
"Don't overthink it. Just tell her. That’s always the best policy."
I grip his shoulder. "Thanks, Mason. Take care of our horses."
Mason gives me a half-grin. "Go."
I head for the parking lot at a trot, the evening air warm and thick with the smell of livestock and dust. I grab my bag from the truck and call a car service.
The drive to the airport takes forty minutes.
I tip the driver, throw my bag over my shoulder, and check in at the private terminal.
While I wait, I pull up Sunny's contact on my phone.
My thumb hovers over her name. I could call.
I could tell her I'm coming, give her time to prepare, let her decide whether she wants me there.
I put the phone away.
Some things need to be said standing in front of the woman you love, close enough to see her eyes when the words land. My patience served its purpose, and I don't regret a second of it. But I've waited long enough.
It's two and a half hours to Sonoma, and then I'll be standing in front of Sunny with nothing between us but the truth I should have told her before she left. She’s not walking out of my life without hearing what she means to me.
And if Derek Parker thinks he can dangle a job offer in front of the woman I love to save his trust-fund ass, he's about to learn that you don't mess with a man who's got something worth fighting for.
The plane doors close, and the engines roar to life, and I lean back in my seat and think about sapphire eyes and rose perfume, about a woman who once told me the best and most difficult things reward patience.
She was right. They do.
But sometimes in life, the best move a man can make is the boldest one.