Chapter Twenty-Three
When Life Serves you Lemons
Cal’s statement lingered in the air as they all grappled to understand his words. Having seen some of Trace’s blunders, Rachel wasn’t surprised. She was just shocked by the sheer size of the holes. If Cal was right, Trace apparently dropped the ball after the initial intake meeting.
She heard Lottie ask, “You didn’t know that she’d stopped working on it?”
Cal sighed, and Rachel felt it deep in her soul.
“I’ve been occupied with some other events and also the software system conversion, so I haven’t been as involved.”
Rachel’s chest tightened. He was doing the system work because she recommended it. He was working on that because her boss went and talked the Fitzgeralds into doing it. She was the reason his workload had exploded. She wanted to apologize, but she wasn’t sure what she could have done differently.
Cal continued, unaware of Rachel’s inner turmoil.
“I certainly checked in regularly with Trace about the preparations. She claimed to have everything handled, and I believed her. Her resignation letter says the job wasn’t for her.
The stress of planning this event pushed her past her breaking point. ”
“And she never mentioned that to you?” Lisa asked.
“No, she didn’t,” Cal replied, his voice filled with regret.
“I would have understood if she had talked to me about her misgivings when we booked the gala. This is our first event that is not a wedding. I thought she understood how critical it was to get everything right, not only for the success of the White Hall Estate, but because this is a high-profile party. Trace understood that this business runs mostly by reputation.”
“Not to mention the distillery,” Rachel added quietly.
Cal looked over. “Not to mention the distillery,” he repeated.
Turning back, he explained, “Opening the distillery comes with a host of licenses, zoning variances and permits.
Bungling this gala will put a blight on my reputation, where I had hoped the event would generate some positive goodwill for the estate.
Kind of an introduction to local policy makers and elected officials. "
“And the goodwill it might have garnered you with your parents,” Rachel said, voicing what he wouldn’t. He had never said it outright, yet she understood that was another reason the gala was so important to him.
“That’s true too,” he admitted. “Once it gets out how mismanaged this was and how I dropped the ball, it dries up any leverage I might have had to save the estate.”
Jess leaned over and grabbed the folder. “How bad are we talking?” she said.
“It’s not your fault,” Rachel said while Jess flipped through the file. Cal’s expression said he clearly didn’t believe her, so she pressed on. “It isn’t. You spoke with Trace. She said she had it covered. Why wouldn’t you believe her?”
Cal heard her words but couldn’t bring himself to agree. This still felt like he’d dropped the ball.
“The woman has certainly flaked about some details,” Jess offered. “But they were all minor compared to this. No way could you have anticipated this.”
“Granted, we’ve just met,” Adam said. “But you don’t strike me as the micromanager type, so of course you trusted her when she said she had it handled.”
Hearing people who barely knew him come so quickly to his defense, lifted some of his regret. They did have a point. How could he have known Trace would have gone nuclear?
“So, she got overwhelmed with everything and rather than address it, she just avoided, like, all of it?” Lisa asked.
Cal spread his hands. “It seems that way. Although I saw no indication that she was being pushed to her limit.”
Rachel could see that weighed on Cal and couldn’t stop herself from reaching over to clasp his arm.
“Cal, we both know that had Trace approached you with how she was feeling, you would have found a solution. Even if it would be easing the transition of her finding another job while not leaving you high and dry.”
Jess sighed, pulling Rachel’s attention.
“I’m not gonna lie, Cal,” Jess said, closing the file. “This looks bad. But with a few calls, you may be closer to getting everything on track than you think.”
“True,” Jake chimed in. “I’ll call Joel and have him come out ASAP to inspect the setup. If the menu needs to change, I can help him.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Cal replied, obviously touched by the offer. “That means a lot.” Looking at Jess, he asked, “You think I could still pull it off?”
Jess fidgeted with the file folder as she thought about it before saying, “I think so. You’ll need a few miracles here and there, but it could happen.”
Cal glanced down, and Rachel saw his shoulders relax slightly.
If Jess said he could do it, then perhaps he had a possibility of pulling it all together.
Her breath froze, though, when Cal started looking at Jess.
Like really studying her, his gaze narrowing.
Rachel was on the verge of saying something when he spoke.
“Please, Jess, tell me you’ll help,” he said, his tone earnest. “There’s so much riding on this. And you know this stuff. And if my vendors can’t do it, you have contacts that perhaps can, right?”
Rachel tried to interject before Cal got carried away. But he kept talking; his speech speeding up as he pushed for Jess to help make the miracles happen for this damn gala.
There was no way Jess should attach herself to this. It was a prominent event. And now it was a prominent event headed for destruction. The stress of it had made Trace quit.
“You’re the perfect person,” Cal continued. “You’ll see what needs to get it all up and running again.”
“Cal,” Jess interrupted. “I can point you in the right direction if you need it, but I doubt I have the experience…”
“The hell you don’t!” Cal slapped the table.
The noise was so startling, Rachel jumped. And she wasn’t alone. Jess was beside her. She watched as her sister didn’t just flinch; she recoiled. The fear playing out across her face.
Rachel’s breath caught as memories assaulted her. The bruises Jess had explained away as clumsiness. Her sister’s lip cut open and caked with blood. The red color stark against the pallor of her face. Finger shaped bruises circling Jess’ wrists and arms.
Rachel clutched the arms of the chair, fighting the wave of nausea.
“You’re a fantastic problem solver,” Cal continued, oblivious to the surrounding reactions.
“In fact.” Cal stood up, his hands on his hips, “I need you not just for this event. I want you to work with me on this and come on board as the event planner for White Hall. You’re perfect for the position,” he concluded, his face flush and smiling.
Rachel finally understood what it meant when people saw red, because right now her vision was a throbbing shade of crimson. “What the hell are you talking about, Cal?” she sputtered.
If Rachel had been calm, she might have taken a breath. Might have glanced at Jess, to gauge her reaction. But calm had fled the moment Cal hit the table.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She couldn’t stop the images of Jess cycling through her mind. That same helplessness from years ago had her in a chokehold. The one that had haunted her since Chris.
Not again.
Not on her watch.
She stepped forward, her voice sharp, too loud. “Absolutely not!”
Her hand trembled, but her glare stayed steady. “You will not bully my sister into working for you so you can play savior and polish your damn reputation.”
Cal blinked, caught off guard.
“I won’t let you do that to her,” Rachel continued, her tone rising with each word. “She’ll kill herself trying to make this happen. And the odds are already stacked against her, so when it falls apart, she’ll be the one taking the public blame for your failures.”
She could sense Jess shifting in her seat, but Rachel’s entire focus had zeroed in on Cal. He had to understand. He had to.
She’d failed to protect Jess once. She would not make that mistake again.
Her voice broke slightly as she pushed forward. “And what happens when she quits her job to help you, and your parents come in to gut this place anyway? Did you even think about that?”
Cal’s brow furrowed. His mouth opened, closed. His shoulders squared.
“You’re so busy manipulating everything to serve your parents’ obsession with the bottom line, you can’t even see who you’re hurting.”
“Seriously?” Cal stepped toward her, his tone tight. “What the hell, Rachel?” His gaze swept over her like he didn’t recognize the person standing in front of him. “Are you really lumping me in with them? You know me better than that. Or at least, I thought you did.”
“And accusing me of being a manipulative bully?” His voice was louder now, disbelief laced with anger.
“Cal. Rachel…” Jess tried to cut in, but neither of them turned.
“You’re obsessed with this place,” Rachel said, her voice shaking, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “And you don’t care what or who is in your way. You’ll sacrifice anything to get what you want.”
Cal leaned back slightly, as if her words had physically struck him. His expression hardened.
Something inside Rachel winced. She knew she’d gone too far. Cal wasn’t like this. But the fear—the panic—driving her refused to let her back down.
His arms folded tightly across his chest. “That’s rich coming from you,” he said, low and sharp. “You’re here to deliver the final blow to everything I’ve ever cared about.”
“My business. My grandparents’ home.” He gestured around them.
“You’re the one tearing it apart, jotting down every flaw for your report. Helping my parents kill this place. And for what? A pat on the head? A promotion?”
Cal’s voice cracked as he threw up his hands. “God forbid you actually stand up for something, Rachel. You know my vision for White Hall is solid—better than anything my parents are planning. But you’d rather follow orders. Twist the knife and call it duty.”
Rachel stared at him, heart pounding.