11. Gemma #2
“None, but I’m hoping that changes at First Pour. Once I challenge the audience to beat Paso Robles’ numbers in our first year, I’m sure I’ll get bachelors, sponsors, and silent auction donations.”
“We are a competitive bunch,” Bas added.
Izzy, Kick, and Bas chatted about Miremont’s vineyards and how restoring them was coming along. From what I recalled, they’d been dormant for more than ten years.
“Got time to take a walk with me?” Kick asked Bas.
He glanced at me, and I nodded.
“It’ll give us a chance to catch up,” said Izzy. “How is working with Bas going?” she asked once they were outside.
“Challenging at first, but it’s getting better.”
“Has he started herding you yet?”
She laughed when my eyes scrunched. “Herding me?”
“The man is generous to a fault and makes it his mission to take care of people. He can’t help himself.”
I told her about my landlord selling the house I’d been renting and how Bas had offered me one of the cottages to live in. “He cut me a pretty good deal, and until the ball, it’ll be great to be on-site. Oh, and he hired me for your old job.”
“You’ll be much better at it than I would’ve been.”
“I don’t agree, but thanks.”
“Between the ball and working on other things for Whitmore, you’ll be busy. I’m glad we got our wedding in last year since you made sure everything was perfect.”
“Except for when one of your guests knocked over a candle and set the tablecloth on fire.”
We both laughed.
“I’d forgotten all about that,” she said.
“I made sure there were no pictures to circulate.”
She leaned forward. “You are really good at what you do, Gemma. I hope Bas is paying you more than you asked for. Knowing you, I bet you struck a good deal.”
“For me, yes. Not so much for him. Although, he did tell me to increase my fee on the contract.”
“See? I told you. He can’t help himself from taking care of the people who are important to him.”
I sighed. “I don’t think I qualify as important to him other than to make sure Whitmore’s sponsorship money is put to good use.”
She reached over and patted my hand. “You can keep telling yourself that. However, watching the two of you today, I can tell you he’s as interested in you as you are in him.”
I covered my face with my free hand. “Am I that obvious?”
“You both are.” She squeezed my fingers, then let go. “He’s a catch, that’s for sure. Speaking of which, why won’t he volunteer for the bachelor auction?”
“He didn’t say specifically. He just made it clear he won’t even consider it.”
When she bit the inside of her cheek, I picked up on it right away.
“What’s worrying you?” I asked.
“Bas is great at taking care of others, but he sucks at taking care of himself. I’m sure Thomas’ death hit him hard. I feel awful that I haven’t been able to spend much time with him.” Her gaze met mine. “Keep an eye on him for me, okay?”
“I will,” I promised.
After the guys returned, Bas and I left.
I had a meeting with one of the linen and other rental vendors scheduled for later in the afternoon, and Bas said he’d be spending the day in the winery. Once we returned to Whitmore, we went in opposite directions.
The first thing I did was type up our notes from the 1934 Society meeting. I’d just emailed them to everyone when I heard the event center’s main door open.
Every time it did, I hoped it was Bas coming in.
It rarely was. We hadn’t had dinner together since the night we organized Thomas’ study.
I’d invited him over, but he’d declined, saying he had too much to do.
We were only together for meetings like this morning’s, whatever industry function was on the calendar that week, or the few minutes it took him to walk me home every night.
He always stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and waited for me to unlock the door and go inside. Like having dinner together, we hadn’t kissed again, either.
I stood when the woman I was meeting with arrived and led her into the meeting room and closed the doors.
Her name was Denise, and she’d driven up from Santa Rosa with a case of swatches and a binder under her arm.
I filled her in on my plan to divide the main room into thirds and have a team for each.
“One caterer, one florist, and one linen supplier,” I said.
“Since you’re the first I’ve told this to, do you have anyone you’d like to work with? ” I showed her the list I’d compiled.
“Salt and Pepper would be my first choice for catering and Petal and Vine for the florists.”
“Done.” I didn’t tell her that, so far, her company, along with the two she’d requested, were the front-runners.
“It’s nice to see what you’re doing here at Whitmore,” she commented when we stood to leave. “Other regions aren’t doing as well as the Russian River Valley is.”
“No?”
“Canada Seca has been hit the worst. The thing I hate to see is so many of the family-run places being bought out by the likes of Gannon and Barrow. I guess they’re more of a broker. Still, I hate to see so many being turned into corporate-owned properties.”
My breath caught, and I covered it with a cough.
“Are you all right?” Denise asked.
“I need a drink of water.” I reached for a glass.
I walked her out, and instead of returning to my office, I went to the cottage.
If I was going to fall apart, I didn’t want any witnesses.
I hated what hearing the name of the man who’d single-handedly destroyed my career did to me.
I’d vowed I wouldn’t let Desmond Gannon get the better of me, and here I was, on the verge of tears.
What scared me wasn’t that he’d show up. It was that Bas would hear his version before he heard mine.