“Yep,” Flynn seconded, eyeing Will’s work with a frown.
When it came to programming, his partners were geniuses. When it came to money, not so much. “We have to be accountable for our bottom line.”
“There are plenty of examples of people who didn’t sell and held on to their investment only to see its value increase even more,” Will pointed out.
“Why would you keep me in this partnership if you’re going to ignore my advice?” There. He’d said out loud what he’d been worried about for months. It didn’t make him feel better. His words agitated the anxiety that rode most days in his stomach.
“We’re not going to buy you out just because we disagree with you.” Will crossed his arms over his chest, a ping of annoyance in his voice. “What’s going on with you?”
Slade noticed he didn’t say they’d never buy him out.
“We came here to recharge,” Will continued. “But we stayed to help revitalize the town.”
“I never wanted to help.” Slade spun his pinky ring. “You know I never wanted to help.”
“But you have been helping,” Will said quietly. “And it seems like you enjoy it.”
What he was enjoying was Christine’s company and striving toward the goal of making a name for them in the wine world. There’d be great buzz in financial circles if they sold their winery for a profit before they ever bottled a drop, adding to their partnership’s worth. They’d be seen as golden boys who could do no wrong. Let the next company that came in deal with Mayor Larry. Their future would be set. It was what he’d been working so hard to prove. He wasn’t a fluke or a failure. He could make his fortune again and again. Overcome stress and odds and stand tall while doing it.
Nate leaned down and tapped Slade’s shoulder. “Look at the girls. They love it here.”
Faith was giving Truman a piggyback ride. Grace skipped alongside. They were planning a campout in Flynn’s yard tonight.
“But they aren’t going to stay.” The words felt heavy and full of regret.
“I promised my grandfather.” Flynn visibly struggled to say more. “I promised him...this winery would benefit Harmony Valley. I can’t sell out and just leave.”
Every fiber of Slade’s being returned to that terrible November day eight years ago. He felt again the debilitating grief.
“If an offer comes in that I think is perfect and I’m outvoted on accepting it,” Slade said slowly, “I’m going to leave the partnership.”
Because if they received an outrageously large offer for every tank, forklift, and wine barrel, Slade could finally say he’d done it, he’d cleared his debt to his father.
He could sell the Death and Divorce House and move on.
Dinner tonight?
CHRISTINE LEFT SLADE’S text message unanswered. She listened to the installer go over how to operate the crusher and stem remover. Ryan filmed the man with his cell phone so they could review it again later.
Other than the bottling line, the main installations were complete. The winery was beautiful. Maybe not as luxurious as one of the showplaces in Napa, but no one could say that they’d cobbled together this winery. When the buyers came, as she knew they would no matter what assurances Slade had given her earlier, they’d be impressed.