Chapter 7 - Laurel
I didn’t know how I made it to the welcome center.
I locked eyes on the cow skull that some of the cheeky employees stuck hats on, but I couldn’t have told anyone if it wore a hat today if my life depended on it.
I was just moving forward, a shaky step at a time, inwardly counting down to my demise.
Would there be a scene the moment Rand saw me? Or would he find a way to separate me from Mik to let me have it? The only thing that kept me from sinking into a heap on the cobbled path was the almost certainty that Mik wouldn’t allow that.
Wishful thinking, I was sure. I was always imagining someone would swoop in and take me away from my parents’ constant fights. By the time I ended up in a similar hell of my own making with Rand, I knew that no one was coming to save me.
But I saved myself, didn’t I? Rand didn’t own me, no matter what he thought. Let him embarrass himself by making a scene.
That was all false bravado, though, to help me get up the wooden steps and through the front doors, where Mik actually had to give me a little boost to keep me going. How was I still upright and conscious?
Then it was like the guardian angel assigned to me finally woke up and got on duty, because the receptionist was someone new, and then she said that Rand wasn’t there that day. I could breathe again, and actually focus on the old, familiar decor.
The place had some of the finest wines on the West Coast, but at least in terms of the cowboy theme, didn’t take itself too seriously.
There were hay rides on the weekends, family-friendly barbecues, upscale wine and cheese tastings, like the one that was scheduled for us today, and the chance to learn everything about making wine from grape to bottle.
Rand was a pillar of the community, and everyone loved him. No one would have believed anything I tried to say otherwise.
But he wasn’t there, and I could breathe again. For the moment. I excused myself to the bathroom, pretending the fact that I could hardly stay on my feet was from skipping breakfast. Not a lie since there was no way a single bite of dry toast would have stayed down from being in such an upheaval.
I hurried down the wood-paneled halls to the offices where I found one of my old friends.
Nell was a sweet girl who made all the fresh bread and pastries the vineyard served.
She was delighted to see me, though I was certain she was bursting to ask what the hell happened to me.
She was also a little hurt that I fell off the face of the earth without confiding in her, since we’d become close in the year I worked there.
While I believed some of them got why I left, they didn’t really, figuring it was just breakup drama that had me leaving.
Nell and I shared a lot, but of course, I never told a soul what went on after work hours ended.
They must all think I was a flake for running out without giving notice, and I felt bad for leaving them in the lurch.
Not Rand. He could rot in hell.
“Where are you working now?” she asked. “You’re not still in the area, are you? You’ve certainly been hiding.”
True, too true. I didn’t need to fake my embarrassed blush. “Listen, Nell, can you do me a huge favor today, and tell everyone to act like they don’t know me? I’ll explain it all later.”
“You better,” she said, her look of sadness kicking me in the gut.
We’d been true friends, and I got along with almost everyone there, but I had to leave them behind to save myself.
“I will, I swear. I’m sorry I took off the way I did and haven’t called.”
“Or answered any of my texts,” she accused.
“I got a new phone,” I said. “I didn’t see them, sorry.” I quickly gave her my new number, and she promised to spread the word to act like I was a stranger.
“Rand went through a new hiring spree right after you left,” she said. “You probably won’t recognize most everyone who’s here today anyway. He was so heartbroken—”
“Oh darn, Nell, my new boss is waiting for me. I told him I was in the restroom. I swear I’ll message you soon.”
Brokenhearted, my butt. More like a broken ego.
I thanked my guardian angel even if he’d never been there for me before, and relaxed, looking forward to the delicious spread the winery put out.
Now I could shine, in my element, with no dark clouds hanging over my head.
The first step was to steer Mik in the right direction and make sure we got the best for the restaurant.
Since I saw the private jet, I was more certain than ever that everything had been handed to him, probably from the day he was born.
I grew up in a middle-class household, and all my friends were the same, but there were a few kids who had their whole future neatly mapped out for them: college legacies, assured positions in the family business.
All they had to do was hold out their hands, and things like breweries, private jets, and limos would all fall into them.
The restaurant was one more thing that Mik had dropped into his lap. If it failed, he could start over with barely a scratch. I couldn’t.
First, we got into a tiny, minor dust-up over the cheese platter. He seemed determined to do the exact opposite of whatever I suggested. What was I supposed to do, pick the wines that were inferior so he’d choose the ones I actually wanted?
I almost wanted to watch his darn restaurant crash and burn, but that meant I’d go down with it. I could imagine the reviews bagging on the poor wine pairings, with my name connected to it all.
My mother would have laughed at me. In the grand scheme of things, no, it wasn’t that important if a wine was a little too dry. But I had worked my butt off to become good at something, to improve myself bit by bit, and soar above my station.
I wanted the best, damn it. Was that so wrong?
After the cheese, it was time to sample the wines, and I was excited to taste the newest vintage, bottled shortly after I left. It wasn’t the grapes’ fault that their owner was a giant asshole, after all.
It might have been petty, but I was probably too pleased when it was too dry for my taste. It wouldn’t suit any of the menu items, and there wasn’t anything special enough about it to agree to Mik’s outrageous statement that we should buy several cases.
I asked for the employee who was thankfully one of the new ones, so there was no need for more subterfuge, to bring out last year’s vintage instead. It was much better.
“You’ll notice the difference right away,” I said, trying not to show my irritation over the argument he was determined to wring out of me, lording it over me that he was the boss. Yeah, but I was the expert. “At least I hope so,” I couldn’t help but mumble when he turned away.
His head whipped around, his eyes narrowed. There was no way he heard that, but I was already cursing myself for letting him crack my professional shell. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut for another hour or so, and we’d be back on the plane on the way home.
But no, I just had to let it out. In a way, I was proud despite my disappointment in myself. A month ago, I wouldn’t have had the courage to speak my mind, even in an irritated whisper, for fear of getting slapped.
Maintaining contact with those suspicious blue eyes, I tried to feign innocence, about to mention what a beautiful day it was, and maybe we should take the tour.
“What did you say?” he asked, voice as smooth as silk, but hard as steel.
I swallowed hard. “Nothing.” Wow, way to own up to it.
“That’s funny, I was certain I heard you desperately hoping I would finally know a good wine from a shitty one.”
“The other one wasn’t sh… bad,” I said. “But this one is better. Just taste it. I’m only trying to do my job. As someone who knows wine.”
“Unlike someone who only ever drinks beer.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’ve been thinking it. Probably since I first questioned your so-called expertise.”
So-called? When I helped put this place on the map? Oh, right, I couldn’t admit to that. I sputtered, and he kept talking, as fired up as I had ever seen him.
“Haven’t I been working as hard as anyone else?” he demanded.
My shoulders lowered from where they’d defensively raised around my ears.
Huh. He actually had been throwing his back into things.
Real work, helping the builders, as well as poring over plans with Chase and Todd, and the sous chef told me just yesterday that he went into the kitchen and asked what he needed to learn in case there was an emergency, and he had to help out.
That wasn’t exactly rich boy energy, and I’d been too bitter to notice it until he pointed it out.
“Yes,” I said. “You have. Still…”
“Still what?” he snapped.
I nodded at the server carrying in the new bottle. “Still, I think you’ll like this one better.”
He leaned over, tapping the table in front of me. “Let’s bet on it.”
“I’m broke. And how do I know you’ll be honest?”
Shaking his head, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his muscular chest, as if to draw my attention to how ripped he was and throw me off. “I’m always honest. I admitted it before, didn’t I?”
“In private,” I said, still stinging from that lunch.
“I’ll take out an ad to rectify it,” he said. “Or one of those giant billboards in Hollywood.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Just your promise to be honest is fine,” I answered. “But what do I win?”
“If you win, I’ll move the bar back where you want it.”
A surge of outrage on the construction workers’ behalf had my mouth dropping open. “Is it all a game to you? That’s only making more work for someone else.” But holy cow, did I want my bar back where it belonged.
“Ask them if they care, as long as they’re getting paid,” he said, as smug as usual. And just as handsome.
I had this in the bag. “Go ahead and try it,” I said. “I’ve already won, but I won’t gloat until you admit it.”
He laughed at that, tasting both wines again, then sighing long and loud. “You’re not getting the white marble back,” he said.
“I won?” I asked incredulously.
“Go ahead and gloat.”
“I actually think the copper is really pretty,” I admitted. Nothing wrong with being magnanimous in victory.
After tasting a few more, he placed a massive order, rejecting one that I had insisted on and including multiple cases of the wine I didn’t care for. He still had to be in total control. That was fine. I didn’t have to suggest them to future customers.
Only another hour or so of his presence and I’d be free of him, even if I had to admit there might have been a few minutes that weren’t completely unbearable. And I was getting the bar back in its rightful position. I even agreed to a toast once we were in the limo again.
The champagne would help me get through the plane ride. Maybe I’d pretend to fall asleep, worn out from the roller coaster that was Mik Fokin.
The ride wasn’t over yet. We didn’t head to the airport, but instead pulled into one of the many fancy resorts Napa had to offer.
“What happened to getting back to LA?” I asked. We were both stuffed with cheese. There was no reason to stop for dinner.
“You did such a good job selling those other vineyards, I’ve decided we’re staying over to visit some of them tomorrow.”
What the hell? “Oh, are we? I don’t have anything for an overnight stay.”
“You can charge it all to the company card,” he said, already out of the limo and striding away from me. “And you can research the local nightlife,” he called over his shoulder. “Might as well have some fun, and we can do some market research with the locals.”
Great. I didn’t have a good feeling about my guardian angel still being on duty.
Surely my luck was due to run out by staying in Rand’s neck of the woods any longer.
Hiding out safely in the room might have worked for tonight, if fighting my imperious boss’s decree that we’d be going out was anything but futile.
Not to mention the countless people at the other vineyards who might recognize me and say something to Rand about it. I was already pushing my luck, expecting the employees at Canyon Vines to keep it to themselves, but I was supposed to be miles away in LA by the time that happened.
I was back to fighting panic, especially if we went to one of the many popular places where Rand might show up, and those were obviously the kind of spots where Mik would want to go.
The only way I could stay away from Rand was to choose someplace he’d never go in a million years, even if it meant pissing off Mik.