Slade managed to look a tad hurt. How did this man manage to go through life keeping all his wounds hidden from others? She could read him as easily as she could a grapevine.
“After you came to the barbershop I got a phone call from a party interested in the permit.”
“You sold out.” The rumors were true. Her stomach roiled. “Stop the truck.” She’d walk home.
“It’s not like that. The partnership isn’t selling.”
“How much did they offer?”
“That’s not relevant.”
“How much?”
“I’d rather not say.”
She reached for his tie, carefully, since he was driving. “How. Much?”
The figure he quoted had her dropping his tie and slumping against her door. “I am fired.”
“Don’t say that. The partnership will stick to its agreement.”
But Christine knew better. She knew about balance sheets and profit and loss. A complete, newly constructed, top-of-the-line winery with this permit would be worth more than Slade and his partners paid for it and what they’d invested so far. Many times more.
“I want you to know that even though we haven’t accepted any offers, I am going to recommend they sell at some point.” Slade cast a quick glance in her direction, his face pinched as tight as a grape left on the vine too long. “I’m 99 percent sure they won’t sell no matter what I recommend.”
“I don’t understand. Were you lying to me earlier at Phil’s?”
“No. But you were right. We got an offer. It wasn’t good enough to accept. But when an offer comes in we can’t refuse and my partners don’t sell, I’ll have them buy me out. I won’t compromise on my beliefs.” His voice was dark and determined, as if he knew he was betraying the town but was convinced he had to do it. “I’ll have made two fortunes in less than twelve months. I’ll be free of Harmony Valley forever.”
He’s leaving?
She understood not wanting to compromise your beliefs. She hadn’t realized making money was that important to him. She hadn’t expected him to have values tied to big profits. She suspected his beliefs had to do with the scar around his neck and what happened the day his father died. Betrayal tangled with sympathy. There was no clear winner. Not her, not Slade, and certainly not the town.
Harmony Valley had seemed so idyllic. Other than Slade’s ties, there was no posturing, no brand-name dropping, no battle to see who could buy the most expensive luxury vehicle.
If they did accept a buyout, Harmony Valley would change, and not in the way Slade and his partners were trying to change it. If only he knew what kind of people would move in to run the place, he’d see it wasn’t best for his small town. He’d take that into account with his profit-and-loss columns.
“Take me to Tilda’s,” she said. It was an exclusive seafood restaurant in Healdsburg, the bar to which many influential winemakers flocked for gossip and networking opportunities.
They parked on the street north of Healdsburg’s plaza. Tilda’s bar was crowded, more so than the main restaurant. Slade and his tie approached the maître d’. Christine marched past, elbowing her way through the crush of regulars.