Page 98 of Red Mountain Burning
Brooks held up a hand again. “Seriously, Em. I can’t get involved.”
“I’ve seen the way she treats you. The way she treats everyone here. It’s like we’re all living in her world—like we have theprivilegeof living in her world.” Emilia could hear herself unleashing but couldn’t stop it. “She has no business working here. I just wish she had something else to do.”
He tapped the table. “I know she loves you, Em. She might not know what’s best for you, but shewantswhat’s best for you.”
“I dare her to try and keep me away.”
“Well, you’re right. It’s your life. Your choices.”
Emilia simmered down and asked, “What do you think? Am I being an idiot by staying here? Maybe I wouldn’t even make a good winemaker.”
“I think you have wonderful potential, but I also think you’ll be great at whatever you do.”
Emilia sat back and let her leg shake. “Spoken like a politician.” She understood why Brooks had to be neutral. This mountain was so small, and the winery was even smaller. Taking sides was dangerous.
“Thanks, Brooks. So if my parents say yes, you’ll give me a job and teach me?”
Brooks screwed the cap back onto his water bottle. “Absolutely.”
Emilia thanked him again and jogged down the steps back toward the tasting room.
Her mom was meeting with someone at one of the tables. “Emilia, this is Sandy. She’ll be helping out on weekends.”
Emilia shook the woman’s hand. “Great to meet you.”
After a quick chat about life on Red Mountain, Emilia turned to her mother. “You’re coming home for lunch, right?”
Carmen nodded. “Yep.”
“Okay, cool. I’d like to talk to you about something.”
* * *
Brooks could only imaginehow bad things were about to get with the Foresters, and he’d found himself right in the middle of it.
Though he wished he could hide in his office, he had work to do. He’d put an older vintage of chenin blanc in the fridge downstairs to taste how it was faring. As he descended the stairs and walked by the wine tanks in the cellar to retrieve it, he navigated each turn like he was creeping through a minefield, hoping he wouldn’t round the corner to find Emilia and Carmen in a throw down.
When he entered the tasting room, he was relieved to find Carmen in a meeting with one of the new tasting-room employees. After a quick hello, he rounded the concrete bar and opened up the fridge where he’d left the bottle.
The chenin blanc he’d pulled from the cellar was missing.
Popping back up, he said, “Excuse me, Carm.”
Carmen looked up from the discussion, making it very clear how annoyed she was.
“Do you know if someone might have taken that bottle of older chenin in here? The tasting room staff wouldn’t have sold it, would they?”
Even more frustrated now, Carmen said, “Keeping inventory is a nightmare here. None of you mark down when you’re pulling bottles. I can’t help you.”
Brooks raised his hands in surrender. “Just asking, sorry.”
Carmen shook her head, and it looked like she’d whispered something not so nice to the new employee.
He wanted to shout, “Don’t take the job!”
Instead, as he passed by the two women, he said to the woman who had no idea what she was getting into, “Welcome to the team!”
