Page 89 of You're So Vine
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Who, me?” Jackson half smiles. “Happy-go-lucky Jackson Armstrong?”
“That’d be a yes, then.”
“Fall down twice, get up three times, that’s my motto,” he says. “I repeat it to myself while I’m lying in the dirt. I’m sure it’ll have the right effect one day.”
Everyone else at the table is talking away to each other—Dad and Nate, Mom and Danny, Shelby and Cam. Okay, Dad and Nate are probably arguing but the point is, no one’s listening to me and Jackson.
“Just because you haven’t found your niche yet doesn’t mean you won’t,” I say, trying to ignore that I’m being a big ol’ hypocrite. “You’ve got a lot going for you.”
“True,” he says, spearing a potato with his fork. “I have all my own teeth for one.”
“Don’t run yourself down,” I object. “You do have a lot going for you. You’re smart, you’re funny, you get on great with people, you’re—”
“A coward,” he says. “First to run when the going gets tough. That’s me.”
He raises his voice just enough. The whole table stops talking and stares.
Shelby’s the one to break the silence.
“Jackson, that’s not true. Itisn’t.”
“Sister, you’re a sweetheart,” he says, “but you’ve got a short memory. Who left you to carry the load when Dad died?”
“Well … everyone,” says Shelby matter-of-factly. “You, Mom, Tyler, Frankie … you all left.”
“Okay, but who was the oldest? Who should have taken over? Or at least stayed long enough to make sure the vineyard was in good shape?”
“Isn’t it a bit late to rehash this?” says Nate, ever practical. “It all worked out. Shelby and I got together, and Flora Valley Wines has a great future. What else matters?”
“Character,” says Dad.
My heart sinks. Once Dad gets on his high horse, it’ll take a magnitude ten earthquake to unseat him. Next to me, Nate stiffens in his chair, and across the table Danny screws shut his eyes and starts to massage the bridge of his nose. Oh boy, here we go.
“When I assess a potential company to invest in, my first step is not to examine the books,” Dad says. “It’s to examine the CEO. What manner of person are they? What values and principles do they live by? How strong, in short, is their character? That tells me more than any spreadsheet.”
This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been such a crybaby, Jackson would have kept quiet. Regrets, I’ve had a few.
“And the mark of true character”, Dad says, killing us by degrees, “is the ability to remain present and focused in times of difficulty. To face trouble and stay the course. Courage—that’s the gold standard of character.”
“Dad—” Nate’s about to protest, bless his cotton socks.
But Jackson gets in before him.
“You’re quite right, sir,” he says to Dad. “Courage. That’s the real test of a man.”
I can’t tell if he’s a little drunk, or if he’s simply decided he has nothing left to lose. Whatever the case, I’m steeling myself. Feels like this is about to get ugly.
Jackson looks around the table.
“So let me be courageous,” he says. “Let me tell you the truth about myself. I’m broke. I’m unemployed. I have no home. I have no prospects. I’ve relied on the kindness of you all to help me out, prop me up, and I’ve no idea if I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
He pushes back his chair and stands. “I’ve never done a single thing of note in my whole thirty-two years. The one time I tried to stand up for someone, I failed.”
His gaze is now firmly fixed on Cam, who, I notice, has tensed up. His chest is out, jaw set, and the hand that’s resting on the table is starting to curl into a fist.
But Jackson shakes his head. “I tried to fight for someone’s honor and got put on my ass. Cam knows. He was there. Pretty useless, huh, Cam? Couldn’t even throw a punch.”
