Page 89 of Love You Truly

I have no appetite, so I chew on a paper straw, which gets soggy and disgusting after thirty seconds. “Whoever invented these clearly hates people,” I gripe to no one.

So far no one has called me on my mood. I guess my siblings are distracted by bigger problems like the fact that we still have no guaranteed source of grapes to set us up for expanded production.

“What are we looking at if we can’t expand? Is there any chance we can hold shareholders off for another year until we get this sorted out?” Beatrix asks.

“We don’t have a year,” Jax says. “Investors will go into a full-on revolt if we don’t post good numbers in the next quarter, and the only way to do that is by getting new contracts with wine buyers. And the only way to do that is to have more grapes than we currently have to take us into expanded production. It’s all a promise of the future, but we’re out of time.”

The general mumbling in the lunchroom tells me no one’s happy about it. Just like they weren’t happy when I told them we might not be able to rely on Autumn Lake for grapes.

Saying the words made me feel awful on so many levels—letting my family down when our business is on the rocks, falling for a woman who doesn’t feel the same way… But mostly, talking about Autumn Lake is a reminder of how close I came to having something perfect. Then I had to fuck it up by flying into a rage.

Swallowing down a lump in my throat, I shake my head at myself. I fucking miss Mallory, and I only have myself to blame.

Jax pours himself a cup of coffee, and Archer puts one of the sandwiches on a plate and sits at the head of the table. His mood is worse than usual, but I don’t bother to figure out why. I don’t care.

Everyone’s bustling about, and Beatrix can’t shut up about the sandwiches, which are apparently a new menu item this week at Sweet Butter. “The arugula and brie tastes a little sharper with the clover honey on the bread, don’t you think?” she asks through a large bite.

I also don’t care about the effects of clover honey, so I sulk and stare into my lukewarm coffee, willing this meeting to start already.

PJ has been standing off to the side, tapping on her phone, so I assume whatever she’s doing is part of the holdup. She walks outside and comes in a minute later, accompanied by Graham, who stands slack-jawed as usual with a saddlebag over his shoulder. The conversation in the room grinds to a halt.

“Did I miss something? Why’s he here?” I whisper to Archer across the table. He gestures to PJ with a nod of his head.

“You’ve all met Graham…” PJ says by way of introduction. “He called me with news from the fire marshal, and I thought we should all sit down.”

Great. Not only does he now own land bought by our father with Buttercup Hill profits but he’s probably also here asking for help after his vineyards burned. We were lucky. Only a small portion of our vines caught fire. If the winds had shifted, the damage would have been far worse. Overall, his property took the brunt of the damage, but I’ve been too irritable to ask a lot of questions. I have no idea how he fared at the end of it all.

PJ sits down and gestures to a seat next to her at the table. Graham, looking awkward in a straw hat, dark jeans, and a white tee so new it still has creases, sits next to her. Beatrix slides a coffee cup toward him and gestures to the urn in the center of the table.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says, turning the cup in his hands. “Anyhow, the fire department just finished their investigation, and they determined it was arson.”

“Jesus, really?” Jax asks. “Someone intentionally set fire to your property?”

“Actually, no,” Graham says, bending down to take a report from his bag and putting it on the table in front of him. “It was set on your property.” He lets his words sink in. It’s a good thing because everyone else starts talking at once.

“Wait, what?”

“Are they sure?”

Everyone says a version of the same thing, and after a moment, PJ tells everyone to shut up and listen.

“Yes, they’re sure. Yes, it was set on our property. The marshal contacted me after he spoke with Graham. The only thing that saved us was the shift in winds. If not for that, there’s no telling how much of our vineyards we’d have lost.”

Archer turns to Graham. “How much did you lose?”

“About thirty percent. Not good, obviously, but I’m still in business.”

Archer presses his fingers into his temples. “So they’re saying someone deliberately set fire to our property. Or tried to.”

“Yes, dumbass, that’s the definition of arson.”

“Super helpful, Jax, thanks. Are they still investigating? Do they have any idea who did it?”

“Do you have cameras on your property?” Graham asks us.

Archer answers. “Yes. We’ll check them.”

“Investigators will want any footage we have from that night.”

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