Page 87 of Before We Say Goodbye
“Bec, your husband lost control of the ship. I’m trying to right it.”
Otis soaked it up, watching Lloyd dry up like a salted slug.
“We have an incredible offer. You sign the papers and walk away with stupid money. Go buy the land of your dreams.”
Otis spoke with the confidence of a poker player sitting on a royal flush. “We’ve been down this road. This is the land of our dreams. I wouldn’t sell for all the money in the world.”
Sir Shitbag slid his snake eyes from Otis to Bec and back. “Here’s the thing, guys. I can force you to sell, and you’re not going to like it.”
“Thanks for coming by, Lloyd,” Otis said as patronizingly and rudely as possible. “You arenotwelcome here again.”
“That’s how you want to play it?”
Otis held his hands before his chest like a yoga master. “May you find peace and happiness.”
“Don’t placate me.”
“Arrivederci, Lloyd Bramhall.Bon voyage. Sayonara.Ciao!”
“You’ve picked the wrong guy.”
Otis rang an imaginary bell, going, “Ding, ding! That is the truest statement you’ve ever made. May the wheels of your Ferrari all find nails and may your swimming pool be filled with white zin, and may your life be spent drinking sulfurous boxed wine made from inorganic grapes grown in a swamp of glyphosate. Cheerio, ol’ fellow!”
For a moment Otis thought Lloyd would come after him, but the man seemed to find a last foothold of self-control and backed away like the cockwomble he was.
Once Lloyd was halfway to his car, Otis turned to Bec and found her smiling. He’d finally won.
“You’re gonna get it,” she said.
“No, you’re gonna get it.”
“Did you hear yourself?”
“I’m having fun.” He took her hand and pulled her toward him, then propped her up into dancing position. “I’m a new man, deary. Better get used to it.”
“The many faces of my Otis Till.”
Otis spun her round, dancing to the sweet song of Lloyd’s departure. “You’ll never grow weary of me, that’s for sure.”
Chapter 20
Land Sharks and the Wrong Bull
Otis and his team didn’t pick one grape the previous harvest. All he’d done was tend to the wines already in bottle. He continued to take care of his body and mind while also repairing some of the relationships he’d let fall to the wayside, including that of Paul, Sparrow, and Carmine. He still put most of his effort into his family.
The boys were headbanging to Nirvana and Folkwhore. They even got Otis to thrash his head up and down on occasion. Otis figured Kurt Cobain would make a heck of a winegrower. Meanwhile, Rebecca was going through a tough time and exhibited a tremendous lack of patience, which didn’t bode well for anyone in near proximity, especially Otis Till. For once, though, she wasn’t worried about him. It was Jed, who was using again. Mike, who still faced his struggles. Cam, who would soon fly the coop for CU Boulder. Her parents, who were ... well, her parents. With her impatience, her troubles with sleep, and her glum demeanor, Otis had to be the strong one.
It was January 1991, and Americans were dropping bombs over Baghdad when Lloyd sent a letter of intent. He was suing in an attempt to force Otis and Rebecca to make a move, to either buy him out for an absurd amount, sell to him for a lesser amount, or agree to a new offer from a large conglomerate.
Otis and Rebecca engaged a lawyer from San Francisco. It was a long few months of back-and-forth. They kept requesting that it all be delayed, as Otis and Rebecca wanted to focus on family. Inspired by Otis’s early departure to San Francisco before college, Cam had asked to go to Colorado early so that he could get to know the surroundings. Everyone knew what that meant: He wanted to rock climb, find all the good fishing spots, and check out the girls before the semester began. At least there was no Woodstock to attend. Otis didn’t want to say it out loud, but he suspected Cam would never make it to his second semester. His extracurriculars paired with his good looks might prove to be his undoing.
By spring, Lloyd started pushing harder, and the reality of what might happen began to settle. On the day of their departure to Boulder, all of them crammed into the station wagon with Cam’s trunk and outdoor equipment, their lawyer called. “He’s got too much money. He’ll keep going and going until you relent. As much as I like your money, I don’t want to take all of it. It’s our advice that you accept the offer and wash your hands of the whole thing.”
Otis hung up the phone and let the news settle. He’d decide later. What mattered most was Cam right now. They drove up as a family and spent two weeks in Boulder. Otis and the boys fly-fished. Bec did the spa thing. The four of them hiked and shared meals, and Otis knew that this mattered so much more than what could become of the ranch.
Still, the idea of losing what they’d built hurt, and he didn’t want to go out without a fight.
“You’re doing what?” Scooter asked. “Otis, you’re the pro, but it’s early. Late July? Earliest I’ve ever heard of in the valley.”
