Christine hadn’t known what she’d expected when she stopped by—an offer to chat over coffee, some last-minute instructions before Slade turned her loose in the vineyards and on his budget. What she got was nothing.
It was like being a kid again, when she’d been advanced into the fourth grade and still been ahead of her peers academically. To make friends in spite of her overachieving academic success among her classmates, she’d perfected her smile. A smile no one noticed today. “Well, the vines are calling.”
The men mumbled goodbyes.
Truman was locked in the cell when she descended. The girls stuck their faces through the bars at him, making the little boy giggle. The children barely stopped playing to acknowledge her leaving.
She’d wanted to get away from Napa, someplace where people didn’t schmooze her for favors, someplace where people didn’t judge her by the price of her car. She’d landed someplace where people cared more about the jobs she was going to create than the job she was going to do in the vineyard.
Maybe she’d gone too far.
* * *
“WHERE’S WILL?” SLADE asked sometime after Christine stopped by. He and Flynn were downstairs sitting on the bench in the jail cell. As soon as Will arrived, Slade planned to have a frank discussion about money and the winery.
“You’ll be happy.” Flynn settled his baseball cap more firmly on his head. His grandfather had worn that hat the last week of his life. Flynn treated it as if it was made of solid gold. “Will started programming our new app. He said he’d work on some of the basics this morning and let me have at it this afternoon.”
The perk of interest Slade had felt this morning over their Good Samaritan to-do list was nothing like the burst of excitement he felt at Flynn’s news. “When do you think it’ll be available for launch?”
Flynn gave Slade his best don’t-rush-me look.
Slade held up his hands. “I’m just saying, I can’t do a thing until we create a launch timeline.”
Lately, he’d been worried his partners would never go back to designing. Will had fallen in love with his sister’s best friend, Emma. Flynn had fallen in love and married his grandfather’s caregiver, Becca. They’d made enough money that, if managed well by Slade, they’d never have to work again. Not that they planned to retire. The money gave them freedom. With this new app, they weren’t bothering to ask for venture capital.
Slade flexed his fingers against damp palms. No investors to manage. And the winery situation a continuing drag on their bank accounts. How much longer would Slade be a vital part of the partnership? If he were Flynn and Will, he’d be preparing to give Slade the boot.
“I wanted to wait until the three of us were together to talk about the winery.” Slade fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. “Unfortunately—”
“There is earthquake damage.” Flynn slapped a palm on his knee. “I knew it. How bad is it?”
“There’s no damage,” Slade said.
Flynn did a double take. “Is Mayor Larry causing more grief?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“We didn’t build a wine cave,” Slade blurted.