Page 29 of Twin Babies For The Grump

“Fuck. Have you seen the boss around?” I ask, glancing to the left. The dogs are still sprawled out on the workroom floor in a sunspot, but Owen is nowhere to be seen.

“I think that he’s down in the vineyard with Barry, checking on—”

“The pests in the eastern field, right,” I say, remembering. “Okay, look, you need to stall them while I get at least half presentable. Be careful what you say, talk Owen up, and just keep them there while I get ready.”

“Can do,” says Macy, vanishing back outside.

I turn and rush into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me but not bothering to lock it. If someone wants to come in while I’m fixing my hair and makeup, more power to them. For the moment, all I can focus on is trying to get presentable for the interview.

I pull my hair out of the messy bun and use a small, foldout brush from my purse to try and get the tangles out. Thank you beach curls, for at least always being manageable. Then, I touch up my gloss and go.

Normally, I like to get a bit more fancied up for interviews, but the reporters hate to be kept waiting, and I don’t know how well Macy is going to do speaking with them. She’s been working at the winery for about two years longer than I have, but she’s never been involved in the managerial side of things.

Making short work of the trip through the business side of the vineyard, I step out into the gorgeous open courtyard just in time to watch the news van pull out.

My stomach drops.

“Macy!” I beeline over to her. “What happened to stalling them for me?”

Is that a smug glint in Macy’s eyes? I swear that it must be, but the look is only there for a few seconds. Then she’s back to being all smiles, even going so far as to wave a hand at me. “Don’t worry so much, Tess! They didn’t want to stay, and they only had a few questions. I took care of it.”

“What questions?” I ask, nervous. Keeping a good personal face through the Grapefest is part of what Thomas had instructed me with. While Owen hasn’t outright given me the same job, I’ve mostly just been letting the orders carry over.

But Macy just laughs and says, “You’ll have to watch my interview to find out. I have to get back to work.”

“Macy,” I say, more firmly. Well, trying to be more firm. I’m not great at firm. “I need to know what they asked and what you said.”

“Sorry,” says Macy, her lower lip pushing out just a bit, in a mock apologetic frown. “But I have to get back to work. I wouldn’t want Owen to get on me about slacking off.”

And then she vanishes back into the building, leaving me there fuming. I can’t tell if I should be pissed off that she brushed me aside or upset that I didn’t keep a better grip on the interview.

It crosses my mind that maybe Owen is right. Maybe there’s a time and a place for being a hard ass of a boss. I consider being a bit more firm with people like Macy until I get another close hand of watching Owen trying to deal with Marco.

By the time Owen’s done with his scolding, Marco looks like a kicked dog. He doesn’t say much for the remainder of the workday, and I can practically feel the mood starting to simmer and go tense all around me.

“I don’t get paid enough to be yelled at like this,” I hear Marco saying to one of the other new employees.

She nods her head in agreement. They have their back to me so I can’t tell if she actually looks interested or if it’s just a polite nod-and-listen. Either way, I don’t like the sentiment.

We need people to do their jobs—and sure, Marco is a pain in the ass—but we also have way too much going on with the upcoming Grapefest to end up short-staffed.

I decide that it’s time to bring back a long-standing tradition to lighten the mood, bring Owen into their rankings, and try to get everyone to relax. We used to do it once a week, but after Thomas died…

No, I tell myself. Owen hasn’t initiated it because he doesn’t know about it. That’s all. If he realized that we normally have sanctioned Wine Nights, then he would have at least mentioned it as a yay or nay.

After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decide that this is the only way to work things out.

When the winery is closed, I grab several bottles from the newer cabinets of finished wine and make my way out into the main grounds.

“Harley, grab one of those tables,” I call over my shoulder as I go.

Harley’s face lights up. She knocks her elbow against Marco’s arm. “Come help me with this.”

The two vanish to grab a table. Adela sees me and comes over. “Wine night?”

She sounds excited.

The table is brought out and set up. I place four bottles on it. “Wine night.”

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