Page 4 of Love, Lies, and Celtic Knots

I sigh, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. My law practice is thriving—or at least, it’s keeping me busier than I ever imagined. But most of my business still comes from my brother Brennen’s winery, Celtic Knot, and my other brother, Ryan’s company, Shadow Strike Ventures.

I’m grateful for the work, but sometimes it feels like I’m living in their shadows, like I’m not really doing this on my own. Having an impending prestigious wine critic scheduled to show up at Brennen’s winery to critique his wine next month isn’t helping Brennen’s attitude, either. He’s been a complete dickwad lately.

Today was just one of those days where nothing seemed to go right. An urgent contract review for Ryan turned into a three-hour video meeting, and then a minor dispute with a winery vendor escalated into a full-blown legal headache. On top of that, my assistant, Maggie, is on vacation in London to visit family, leaving me to juggle client meetings, paperwork, and a mountain of correspondence all by myself.

As I close my laptop, I check my phone and see a message from Isabella, the winery’s assistant and a dear friend.

Isabella: Drinks tonight at Jumpin' Jacks? You sounded like you could use it when I texted you during lunch today.

I grin, texting back quickly.

Me: You’re a mind reader. I’m in.

Isabella: I’ll invite Sophie, too.

Me:

Jumpin' Jacks has become our go-to spot for unwinding after particularly rough days. It’s a cozy, laid-back bar on the beach next to a five-star hotel, with just the right mix of atmosphere and anonymity. After a few drinks there, the world always seems a little brighter, and I can almost forget that I’m living in a place where everyone knows everyone else’s shit.

A smile blooms as I think about Sophie joining us. The new head winemaker started a few months ago, and she’s been making a splash with her innovative ideas ever since. She’s also become a dear friend, just like Isabella.

A check of my morning calendar for the next day and I’m all set. Grabbing my things, I lock up the office and head out, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly at the thought of a drink—or three—and some good company.

Jumpin' Jacks is exactly what I need. The warm, dim lighting, the low hum of conversation, and the smell of fried food are comforting, familiar. I walk in and scan the room in search of Isabella but see a blond woman in a corner booth glaring at me. She seems familiar, but I ignore her as I spot Isabella on the other side of the bar in another corner booth, already nursing a margarita, and I slide in across from her.

“Long day?” she asks with a knowing smile.

“You have no idea,” I groan, signaling the waitress for a drink. “If I have to look at one more contract or mediate one more pointless argument, I might just quit and become a winemaker myself.”

Isabella laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t even joke about that. Brennen would love it if he could steal you away from your practice.”

The waitress arrives with my drink—whiskey, neat—and I take a long, satisfying sip. “How’s your day been?” I ask, changing the subject.

Isabella leans back in her seat, considering. “I’m good. Jasper’s been a bit cranky lately, but that’s the job of a Golden Retriever puppy, right?” She laughs.

Sophie walks in, looking around the bar until she spots us. I wave her over, and she approaches with a giant smile.

“Hey, Sophie, glad you could make it,” I say as she slides into the booth beside me.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice soft but steady. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.”

“Tell me about it,” I commiserate, raising my glass. “TGI almost Friday. Here’s to surviving ‘til the weekend.”

She clinks her glass against mine, and we take a drink. The conversation flows easily after that, mostly shop talk about the winery and some light gossip about the town. Sophie talks about her plans, and I see why Brennen was so keen to bring her on board. She’s sharp, with a clear passion for winemaking and a determination that I can respect. She’s going to be good for Brennen and Celtic Knot.

Isabella is more than an assistant at the winery. She keeps the place moving forward and Brennen on task. Some days she’s the marketing person; other days she’s the plumber. On her first day a few years ago, I immediately recognized her worth. I didn’t think she’d stay long with the Celtic Knot’s reputation, but she has. What my father did all those years ago pushed the winery back twenty years, at least, and I’m glad my grandfather and his father never saw the fall of Celtic Knot.

Isabella’s phone rings, so she jumps up to answer it. “It’s my mom. I’ll be right back.” Sophie and I watch as she goes over on the other side of the bar where the music isn’t as loud. We both keep an eye on her because, well, girl code. Gotta keep each other safe… even in a small town.

On her way back to the table, I see her briefly talking to some guy. “Everything okay?” I ask as I sip more of my drink.

“Yeah. Just some weird guy trying to hit on me” She looks at us and winces. “I hate to cut this short, ladies, but I’ve got to run,” she says. “I need to go rescue my mother from puppy-sitting duties. Apparently, Jasper has eaten one of her shoes.” She shows Sophia and me a picture of a once beautiful shoe scored by puppy teeth.

“Oh, that’s painful to look at,” I say, though I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. I was hoping for a ladies’ night. “Go save your puppy from your mom.”

She grins, squeezing my shoulder as she heads out. “We’ll do this again soon,” she calls over her shoulder. “Promise!”

Sophie lingers for a few more minutes, finishing her drink and chatting with me about her plans for the upcoming weekend, but soon she, too, makes her excuses and heads out. I can’t blame her—it’s only Thursday, after all, and she’s probably exhausted.

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