20. Gemma
GEMMA
I’d lived through enough harvest and crush seasons from the outside to understand how it affected every person who worked in the wine industry.
The pickers arrived before dawn, and the crush crew worked past midnight.
Bas walked in at night, purple from head to toe, and fell asleep before he finished telling me about the day.
I didn’t mind. The ball was weeks away, and I had my own version of crush going in the event center.
A check from Gannon and Barrow arrived the morning of the Whelans’ harvest party, the one Edna and Clint threw every year at the end of crush.
It came with a sponsorship form, the same one I’d sent to every business in the valley in March, filled out in an assistant’s handwriting. The amount they sent was top tier and bought them a table close to the stage.
My heart pounded as I sat and stared at it, knowing I couldn’t return or ignore it. This wasn’t about me. It was about raising money for the children’s hospital, and we needed every penny we could get. I logged it and put it in the folder with the others.
I had no doubt Desmond Gannon planned to attend the ball himself, especially since he’d seen me at First Pour.
There’d be no way he’d miss the chance to humiliate me at the biggest event of the year.
And how could I forewarn Bas of his attendance without confessing I knew him, that I’d known him the night I’d asked about him?
I couldn’t, which meant I couldn’t put off telling him what had happened any longer.
The stress of it was eating me alive as it was, and receiving this check only made it worse.
I’d tell Bas tonight, after the party. All of it. So he heard it from me first.
The Whelans’ garden was strung with lights from the house to the barn, and every winery family for miles was here. Edna met us when we walked in. She kissed my cheek, then took both of Bas’ hands. Someone walked by with a tray of glasses of wine, and I took two since Edna already had one.
“You look like your father,” she told him.
“Thank you. That’s quite a compliment.”
“Your mother never would’ve let him get away with wearing that shirt, Sebastian. I’m surprised Gemma let you.”
I’d taken a sip of wine and nearly spit it out.
“What’s wrong with it?” Bas asked, as if he already knew she’d take exception to the bright blue, short-sleeved shirt that was adorned with colorful clusters of grapes, corkscrews, and what looked like wine stains.
She scoffed, and he leaned closer to me when someone approached and started a conversation with her.
“We do this to her every year,” he whispered. “Rand finds the most outlandish shirt he can, then has them made in a variety of colors for our friend group. I’m surprised you didn’t question it.”
I held up one hand. “Having never attended this party, I thought maybe you knew something I didn’t.”
“You’re beautiful, by the way.”
I had on a simple dark-green dress and doubted anyone would even notice me, and that would be fine.
Edna ended her conversation and hooked her arm through mine. “Run along and play, now, Sebastian. I want some time with Gemma. You can’t miss all your friends, given they look as ridiculous as you do.”
I raised my glass. “This is lovely.”
“That’s our Charbono. We could hardly let Hal Brody be the only one making it in the valley.”
She kept our arms linked as we made our way through the crowd. “You know Gemma Engel,” she’d say. “She’s the one responsible for that fabulous event at Whitmore a couple of months ago.”
Some already knew me; others said they were sorry to have missed it. Before we moved on, she mentioned the Wicked Winemakers’ Ball to each person we spoke with, telling them it would be the event of the year and she’d be very disappointed if she didn’t see them there.
I glanced around for Bas. He was staring in my direction but appeared lost in thought. Since the day my mother broke her arm, I’d seen him with the same expression. Before that, the last time I had was when I showed up in his vineyard in January.
Maybe after experiencing my family up close and personal, he was regretting asking me to be his plus-one for a full year.
Or maybe it reinforced the decision he’d already made about this thing between us having an expiration date.
He’d made it clear the morning after the frost, when we’d had sex for the first time, that nothing had changed as far as our agreement. Those were his exact words, in fact.
It was then that I realized how stupid I was being to think we could ever have a real relationship. Instead of continuing to kid myself, I doubled down on my plan to return to San Francisco after the ball. Or in January, when the agreement between him and me ended.
He hadn’t said much the night he met my mother and two brothers and I told him about my plan to leave the valley, but what could he say? Good for you, Gemma, glad you realize there’s no future for you here.
So, for now, I’d make the most of it. I’d spend as much time as I could with him, enjoy his company, have incredible sex, and when I was old and gray, still unmarried, and living alone in some retirement home—if I could afford it—I’d reminisce about the best year of my life.
If anyone asked me if I’d ever been in love, I could say I was once, to the best man I’d ever known.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Edna asked. “You look like someone killed your cat.” She shuddered. “Dreadful creatures, aren’t they? All they’re good for is roaming the cellars and barns, killing rodents. To think some people have them as pets.” She shuddered a second time.
I didn’t mention to her I’d always wanted one. The family across the street, the ones who told me about my father abusing my mother and brothers, had an all-white one that they’d named Snow. I’d loved that cat.
“I hear you’re Bas’ latest.” A tall blonde wearing a very short dress approached me while Edna was busy speaking to her staff about when dinner would be served.
“Excuse me?”
“You and Bas Whitmore. I’m Mary Alice, but everyone calls me Muffy. Bas and I used to be together, on and off, of course. He’s wonderful, isn’t he? Too bad he’s not the type to settle down. At least, now that Isabel Van Orr is off the market.” She patted my arm. “I do hope you enjoy your month.”
I thought about telling her he was mine for a year, but her comment about Izzy stopped me.
I had an answer for her. I’d had answers for women like her since I was eighteen. But I didn’t get to use it.
Edna turned her attention to us. “Buffy, I didn’t realize you would be here this year.”
“It’s Muffy, Mrs. Whelan, and I wouldn’t miss it for anything. It’s the party of the season.”
“Run along now, child. I’m sure your mother or someone must be looking for you.”
Muffy was the first person Edna didn’t mention the ball to, and I was glad she hadn’t.
We walked over to a bar that was set up under the barn eave, where Rand was standing on his own.
“Keep Gemma company for me while I check with the cook about dinner. No one else seems to know when it will be served,” she said to him before disappearing into the house.
“They’re monopolizing him.” He pointed to where Bas stood talking to the men from the vintners’ association.
He was smiling rather than frowning like he had been when I caught him looking at me.
“It’s a good thing, Rand. A few months ago, they weren’t giving him the time of day.”
He nodded and sipped his drink.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything, Gemma. Whether I answer is another matter.”
“The night of First Pour. The man you and Bas confronted at the door. Bas told me he wasn’t invited, but didn’t say anything else about him.”
Rand’s grin disappeared. “It was Desmond Gannon,” he said. “Bastard had nerve, showing up that night.”
“He’s with Gannon and Barrow, isn’t he? They did RSVP to attend.”
“But Desmond knew better. After the stunts he’s pulled since Thomas’ death, he knew better than to show his face.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He’d approached Thomas a few times about selling Whitmore to one of the corporations he represents. Thomas always turned him down. Finally, he told Gannon he had no interest in selling, he never would, and not to stop by again. I’m sure the language he used was far worse than that.”
“You mentioned the stunts he pulled since Thomas’ death.”
“The worst was him showing up the week after the funeral, pitching Bas to sell. When Bas told him to fuck off and kicked him off the property, Gannon went to the rest of the Whitmores, trying to get them to convince Bas to sell. It was the lies he told about Bas that made it so much worse. Not only did he tell Ev, Arlow, Hux, and Bry that Bas was running Whitmore into the ground, but he told that to anyone who would listen.”
“His company has sponsored a table at the Wicked Winemakers’ Ball. The check came in today.”
“Have you told Bas yet?” he asked.
“There hasn’t been time with the party. Plus I wanted to know why there was bad blood between them before I did.”
“Now you know, and Bas definitely needs to know. Oh, and, Gemma, a word to the wise: stay away from Gannon. The guy is bad news, and it’s for more than what I’ve told you.
If you are ever alone with him for any reason, give him a swift kick in the balls before he realizes it’s coming, then get the hell out of there. ”
I nearly gasped. Why had Rand said that specifically? Did he know that was precisely what I’d done the night Gannon cornered me? He couldn’t know that. And even if he did, Rand wasn’t the type to play games.
“The good news is, he’s burning bridges fast around here. From what I’ve heard, the corporations he represents are putting pressure on him to get the wineries to sell. Little do they know that with Gannon’s name attached, no one will even consider it.” Rand looked up. “Here he comes now.”
I turned my head to find Bas a couple of feet away from me.
“Quit monopolizing my date, Wolf.”
“Hey, now, she came to me.”
“That isn’t what happened. Edna brought me over—”
“I’m teasing, Gemma,” said Rand before he walked away. “Damn, Bas, I’ve never known you to be the jealous type,” he muttered when he passed him.
“What were you talking about?” Bas asked.
Now wasn’t the time to bring up Gannon. “Nothing important,” I told him instead. “I saw you talking with Mr. Brody and Mr. Myers. It looked like a good conversation.”
“They’re coming around.” Bas looked away from me with the same expression as earlier.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
“Yeah. No. I really don’t feel like being here. We made an appearance. Now, we can leave.”
He took my hand and led me in the direction of where he’d parked, without asking me if I was ready to go.
“How’s your mom?” he asked once we were in the truck.
“Her cast comes off next week.”
“Are you taking her?”
“No. Tobias is.”
“If you want to, we can.”
I shook my head. “Thanks, but no.”
We didn’t speak again until we arrived at Whitmore.
“I need to check on something in the cellar,” he said seconds after we walked in the door.
“Can it wait a minute?” I asked. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Bas’ foul mood seemed to fade away. “Of course, Gem. I’m sorry. What is it?”
“Can we go in there?” I motioned to the library.
It was chilly enough that Bas lit a fire, then came to sit beside me on the sofa. “What’s up?”
“It’s about Desmond Gannon.”
“What about him? Jesus, did he come to you about Whitmore? I’ll fucking kill him.”
“No, not about Whitmore. What happened between Gannon and me is why I left San Francisco.”