Page 16 of Tangled in Vines

Hollister shook his head. “Not at this time, no.”

“Okay then,” I stood. “Please, let me walk you out.”

When we came to the end of the staircase and were in the lobby, Jenna came with their packages, the bottle Mills requested, and little odds and ends that we gave in our care packages.

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again,” I replied. “And Mister Mills, the bottles are on the house. Please enjoy.”

“Thank you, kindly,” he grinned. “I appreciate it.”

When they left, I turned to Indie, who was hovering in the background and grinned, “Don’t quote me, but I think we have this in the bag.”

ChapterSix

Mia

For the first time since I’d arrived in town, I stepped foot into the winery. Internally, I was cringing in shame because I should have done this the first day. I went to my dad’s office to get some files copied so I could examine them later. I needed to be fully prepared when I told Mom—who would be coming home in a few days—what I planned.

While I was rifling through Dad’s desk—his computer had three films of dust on it, which told me the man had not used it since it was bought—Mister Jackson Crane, the general manager of the winery, came in.

“Mia,” he greeted kindly. “I don’t want to disturb you, but there are a few people here to see you.”

“Who?” I asked, nose deep in my dad’s ledgers.

Would it kill the man to use a spreadsheet or QuickBooks?

“Some people from Texas,” he said, and my neck snapped up so quickly it was a miracle that I hadn’t sprained something.

Were they here?

Was it true?

Reeling in my shock, I nodded. “Where are they now?”

“My daughter has them in the barrel room,” he replied. “They just arrived.”

“I’ll go speak to them.” I added, “Thank you for telling me.”

The barrel room and warehouse were annexed rooms from the main factory, where we offered tastings and hosted corporate parties. There were a few times we held wedding receptions and even bachelor parties. Fifteen feet high and five times that wide, the roof was made of latticed wood, while stacks of barrels surrounded the room in built-in brick cubbies made especially for them.

A constant woodsy, smoky, and notes of the rich red wines leaked from the barrels. The wide window made sure the cool river breeze circulated through the room, and the skylights made sure the room had swathes of natural light.

When I entered the room, I saw the three men gazing at the montage of my family’s journey from the day photography came about. There were drawings of the old factory, the manual wine press, and the older equipment that merged into black and white photos of my great-grandaddy installing the first mechanical winepress and others of my granddad making extensions to the factory.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” I greeted them as they turned to face me.

One of the men had on Givenchy from head to toe, and I made a mental note to ask him about his skin care. “Welcome to Sullivan Winery. I am Mia Sullivan, John Sullivan’s daughter. How may I assist you today?”

“You’re the owner’s daughter?” A man in a brilliant blue suit and striped tie stepped forward and held out a hand. “I am Trevor Dalston. With me are Ben Mills and Ewan Hollister. We’re from the newly merged Portman and Maxwell estate under the Tender T’s beef brand. We’re looking to pair the new campaign of certain cuts of beef with perfectly paired beverages.”

“I’ve heard the rumors that you would be along,” I said after shaking all their hands. “I’m glad to finally see you. Would you like a tour and some tastings?”

“Sure,” the older man grinned. “Be warned, Ewan is a lightweight.”

“Hey,” the guy in Givenchy gawped. “I am not.”

“You smelled moonshine and collapsed,” Ben deadpanned. “Twice.”

“For the last time, I hadn’t eaten that day,” Ewan scowled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t born sipping Texas whiskey from the baby bottle.”

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