“Then we’re left with Marcelli Wines.”
He detailed the long history of the company, as if Lorenzo hadn’t lived it all himself. He was polite, well informed, and when he started talking numbers, even Lorenzo was impressed by the bottom line.
The words flowed on and on. Employees would be guaranteed their jobs for at least two years. His family would never want for anything. The family house was not to be touched, and he was welcome to retain a few acres around the house for his private use.
What would his father think of all this? Lorenzo wondered, then smiled faintly. Antonio would raise his fist to the heavens, then turn it toward the men. Never would a Marcelli sell.
But that was a long time ago. Much had changed. Once he had believed he would create a dynasty of fine sons to inherit. Marco was a good man, but there had been no other children, and no male grandchildren. Tessa always whispered it was because God punished Lorenzo for his arrogance in forcing Marco and Colleen to give up their baby. For many years Lorenzo had refused to believe, but now he was not so sure.
So these men, these strangers, offered him more money than he had ever imagined in exchange for Marcelli Wines. Which made him wonder why.
He listened as they continued to talk, all the while questioning what lay behind the words. These two were not interested in wine. They represented a soulless corporation. Wine making was an art. It got into the blood. So who was behind this? Who really wanted to buy the company?
When they had finished, he rose to his feet. “I will consider the offer,” he said. “Then I will be in touch.”
He left the way he’d come-alone and feeling very old.
Brenna looked over the new designs for the Chardonnay labels and had a feeling her grandfather wasn’t going to like these any better than the last ones. Still, it was her job to show them to him and then stand back to absorb whatever joy he might want to send her way. Besides, after her motorcycle ride with Nic the previous day there was virtually nothing that could upset her.
Humming “I’m a Little Teapot,” she left her office and walked down the corridor into his. The door was open and she entered without knocking.
“Hey, Grandpa,” she said, doing her best to sound upbeat and cheerful. Actually it wasn’t much of a stretch. “I have the new wine labels. You’re going to love them.”
Her grandfather’s response was a grunt. Not a very promising start, but she was determined to look on the bright side of things. She set the large pages in front of him.
“I explained what you liked and didn’t like about their previous work,” she said. “They went from there.”
“I don’t remember saying I liked anything,” he grumbled as he flipped through the designs.
Brenna ignored him and perched on the edge of his desk, which she knew he hated. “You adored at least two of them,” she said, carefully crossing her fingers behind her back to negate the potential cosmic effects of the lie.
He grunted again.
She grinned, then noticed how he was dressed. While her grandfather usually wore a long-sleeved shirt and the old man equivalent of Dockers, today he was in a suit and tie.
“Don’t you look spiffy,” she said. “What’s the special occasion? Did you and Grandma Tessa sneak away for a romantic lunch?”
“You’re in a good mood,” he complained.
“Actually it’s just my naturally sunny nature coming through. So did you go to lunch?”
“No. I met with some businessmen. They wanted to talk about buying the winery.”
It was like being by the ocean again. Brenna heard the sound of rushing water. The noise filled her head until it seemed to surround her. She was drowning. That had to be what was wrong.
The temperature in the room dropped to near freezing. She felt cold, then numb, then very, very sick.
No. No, this wasn’t happening. Selling? He couldn’t. She’d just survived the Joe crisis. This could not be happening.
She closed her eyes and accepted the truth. The winery was his. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.
She sucked in a breath, then pushed to her feet. Somehow she got out of the office, then she was running and running. Through the rows of bare vines, up over the slight hill at the edge of their property and across the fence lines. She ran until the pain in her side forced her to walk, and still she kept going. Her eyes burned from her tears, her chest ached. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but keep moving.
Some time later she saw a group of buildings and she headed for them. A voice in her head kept screaming “No!” as if by sheer force of will, she could make it not be true. She choked on her sobs. The unfairness of it all, the futility of her hopes and dreams, filled her with pain.
When she reached the building, she pushed through the unlocked door and into the office. It was the middle of the day, and several of the office staff were at their desks.
She felt their curious looks, heard the whispered questions. Should they stop her? Who was she? She ignored them all. Instead she walked faster until she reached the one door she sought and jerked it open.
Nic was on the phone. He looked up when she entered. His expression tightened with surprise.
“I’ll have to call you back,” he said and hung up. He was already on his feet.
“What happened?” he asked. “Are you okay? Was there an accident?”
She shook her head, but couldn’t catch her breath enough to speak. Tears poured down her cheeks.
He put an arm around her and helped her out of his office. They left the office building and headed for the house.
When she was settled on the living room sofa, with a glass of brandy, Nic crouched in front of her and took her free hand in his.
“What’s wrong?”
Her throat was so tight, she didn’t think it would be possible to speak, yet she did her best to force out the words.
“My grandfather is going to sell the winery.”
Nic had expected her to say that someone was dead. Maybe Joe or one of her grandmothers. Wide-eyed and shaking, Brenna looked as if she’d barely survived a car crash. He’d been so concerned about her, he’d momentarily forgotten about the meeting that morning.
“You don’t know for sure,” he told her.
She gave a strangled cry and tightened her grip on his hand. “He said he met with some men. He was all dressed up in a suit. Why would he have bothered if he wasn’t serious?” She gasped. “Joe. Joe told him that he wasn’t interested in the winery. He said if he inherited, he would just give it to me. That’s why my grandfather is doing this. Without Joe, there’s no male heir. He doesn’t have a choice.”
She was shaking so badly some of the brandy spilled on the floor. Nic grabbed the glass and set it on the end table, then sat next to her and pulled her close.
“It’s all right,” he murmured. “You’ll see.”
“No,” she whispered. “It isn’t.”
She buried her face in his chest. Nic stroked her hair and rocked her back and forth. But even though his actions were gentle, his mind was racing. Was Brenna right? Would Lorenzo sell? As much as Nic had hoped and planned, he’d never been sure the old man would take the bait. Was everything he’d worked for finally within his grasp?
“Brenna,” he began, not sure what he was going to say. The truth? A part of the truth?
She raised her head. Pain filled her eyes. “It’s all going to change. Mia already figured that out. She had the four of us go to lunch because nothing was ever going to be the same again. We’re all changing. I’m going to lose the winery.”
Tell her now, he thought. Tell her the truth.
She sighed. “Oh, Nic, what would I have done without you? When I came to you for the loan, I really wanted to start my own label, but I don’t think I actually believed I would need to. I think deep inside I believed I would inherit. I figured he would make the four of us equal owners and that I would run things. I started Four Sisters to hedge my bets.” She blinked back tears. “Now that’s all I have. And it’s because of you. You were so generous and willing to take a chance on me. I really appreciate that.”