Page 136 of Love Among Vines

Jade took a step toward Chris, hand clenched in a fist, but Rett cut her off with a look. As much as he would have loved to let her pound his brother to a pulp, Chris was not above pressing charges.

She cleared her throat. “How about I work on cleaning up while you two talk? No sense in wasting a perfectly good—and casual—PowerPoint.” Her tone was like the tip of a blade.

“This isn’t your mess to clean up,” Rett said. He picked up his glass of wine—which had miraculously remained unscathed—and tugged Jade into the living room and onto the couch.

“Thanks for being willing to hear me out,” Chris said. He stood awkwardly in front of the TV, beads of sweat on his brow. Smoke was still thick in the air.

Alexa took a seat next to him in an armchair, apparently unbothered by the fact that she had nearly burned his house down.

The chances of them offering a solution that would magically solve the winery’s problems were less than zero. But if he didn’t let Chris go through his spiel, his parents would never let him hear the end of it.

“So,” Chris said, suddenly producing a clicker. “What I wanted to discuss with you was the prospect of bringing in some outside help. If we bring in outside grapes or outside wines fora blend, we could amp up production by twenty-five percent starting at the beginning of the fiscal year.”

Outside grapes? Seriously? For fifty years, every grape in every bottle had been cultivated in this area code.

A bar graph appeared onscreen. Rett’s shoulders tensed.

Jade plucked the wineglass from his hand and set it on the end table amidst the trash Alexa and Chris had left. He hadn’t even noticed how tightly he was holding it.

“What vineyard?” Rett asked.

Chris fumbled. “It’s a small one. Goat’s Bollocks Vineyard. They’re outside of Trenton. Massive chunk of land, lot of grapes.”

Trenton? He had to be joking.

Rett took a deep breath and leaned forward. “Do you know what makes Rhodes Vineyard so unique, Chris?”

“The wine?” Chris asked rather than answered.

“Sure. But do you know why? I’m sure you did some research before coming to me with these ideas.”

“The dirt,” Chris offered.

“The Finger Lakes create a microclimate,” Rett began. He went on to describe retreating glaciers and their effect on the soil, growing seasons, winter damage, slopes, and drainage.

Chris’s eyes were glazed over. Alexa was struggling to focus. Even her customer service smile slipped a bit by the end of the tirade.

“So all of these elements come together to make flavorful, unique wines. Do you know what this region in New Jersey is known for lacking?”

Chris shrugged.

“Adequate drainage. This leads to overblown fruit, diseases, mold growth. You’re trying to sell me on subpar grapes. Why?”

“I told you. I’m trying to help amp up production and cut down on costs.”

“And what’s your role in all this? What do you gain?”

“Well, as the liaison between suppliers, usually there’s a fee?—”

There it was. As suspected, he came under the guise of offering help, but he was really here to line his own pockets.

“So you need money. Again.”

“That’s not why—” Chris began.

“What happened?” Rett prompted when Chris’s scarlet face turned purple. “I assume there was another bet that went wrong.”

“No, I—” Chris began again, but Alexa silenced him with a look. Her expression had soured like someone had forced her to eat the dessert she decimated.

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