Slade plucked at his tie. “If I ever get married again, which I don’t plan on, I wouldn’t want my wife working.”
Becca laughed, sinking against Flynn’s chest so she could look out toward the river. “What would I do with myself if I was home all day? Eat bonbons and clog my arteries?” Becca kissed Flynn’s chin. “Besides, I have bills to pay. House rule number ten—debts acquired prior to marriage are my own.”
“I told you I’d pay Gary off.” Flynn sounded annoyed, as if this was an old argument.
“And I told you—”
“Children, please.” Slade slouched farther into his chair. “I just want to enjoy some peace and quiet.”
“How’s your new winemaker doing?” Becca politely changed the subject. “I haven’t had time to meet her.”
Slade angled his head toward them. “Unlike you, she wants to spend our money.”
Nate looked around the porch, taking in the aged furniture and perhaps reconciling it with them being millionaires, but said nothing.
“This house was my grandfather’s.” Flynn interpreted the sheriff’s wary gaze and explained, “I grew up here, and since Grandpa Ed only recently passed on, I’m not ready to change anything.”
“Because he wouldn’t let you change anything when he was alive.” Becca gave Flynn an affectionate squeeze.
“Getting back to Christine,” Flynn said. “Has she convinced you to build a wine cave? If it creates more job opportunities, I say let’s do it.”
Slade stared toward the river, but all he saw was his father’s suicide note. “At this stage, this investment is capped out.”
Flynn wouldn’t let it go. “We promised the town—”
“And I promised you,” Slade snapped. “I promised if we never sold another app that we’d have money in our old age. I can’t keep my promise if you keep dipping into the coffers. Let me do my job.” He drew a breath, trying to calm down. “We agreed the winery was going to be a tax write-off, at least at first. I don’t expect the winery to make monstrous profits. But I draw the line at subsidizing the town.”
He’d learned a lot in the past few days about running a winery. It made what he thought he knew look like kindergarten material. At the rate Christine wanted to grow the winery, they’d never create enough jobs to save the town. And at the rate Slade had hoped to grow the winery, they risked failure by producing an inferior product, which in turn would decrease the value of their portfolio. The same portfolio they were basing their retirement off of. The last time he’d managed a retirement portfolio, it’d belonged to his dad. He’d bankrupted his old man, who’d hung himself after hearing the news.
Yeah, he was nervous. He didn’t trust himself to predict how people were going to react to monetary loss. Suicide? Divorce? An end to a valued friendship? He didn’t want to find out.
Slade rubbed a hand over his face. Another change of subject was in order. “How’s the progress on the new app?”
“Slow. Hit a snag today when the programming script kept crashing everything.” Flynn’s voice welled with frustration. “I can’t wait for Will to get back from the city.”
“You’ll figure it out, Flynn.” Becca reassured him with both words and a kiss, if Slade’s hearing was correct.