Page 83 of Corkscrew You
Because my ears are traitorous shits, I hear the front door to the house shut. Shelby will pitch a fit when she finds out I’m doing Javi and his team out of a job. And an evenbiggerfit when she finds out about the end of the grape stomping.
But business is business. Plenty of need for good vineyard crews, so Javi’s unlikely to be out of pocket for long.
Shit, that reminds me. If there’s no crew, there’s no need to feed them. Flora Valley Wines has always put on a big meal at the end of harvest, for the crew and their families. The caterer is Iris, the alligator strangler. I don’t think she’d take kindly to an email declining her services, no matter how politely worded. If I’m going to respect Javi by giving him the bad news face to face, I’d better do the same with Iris. If I don’t come back, check inside the stuffed alligator.
I remind myself that this effort is now all for JP And for getting me out of this contract as soon as possible. Because that’s what I want, right?
The devil on my shoulder is currently having his neck wrenched in a camel clutch. That angel fightsdirty.
Keep busy, Nate. That’s the best way to stay on track.
And don’t eventhinkabout tomorrow night.
I’ve had awkward moments in my life, but this dinner is shaping up to be even worse than the time I had to break it to Anton that his daughter had left me.Shedidn’t bother. Just hopped in the piece-of-shit Lada and drove away with the Dorkwegian.
It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if Anton and his wife hadn’t felt so sorry forme. Didn’t care that they’d already forked out a fortune for the wedding, of which they wouldn’t get back a dime. No, their priority was seeing how I was holding up. Right then, Iwasfeeling pretty fucking sorry for myself, not to mention furious and resentful. So I took their pity and lapped it up. Then burned with shame for days after.
How the hell am I going to sit at the same table as Shelby, and pretend like everything’s normal? How will I navigate Mom’s expectation that she’s meeting a new girlfriend? I tried to put her straight this morning, but I think she was so desperate for good news that all she heard was “blah, blah, blah”.
And what will happen if my plan fails? I know it’s not just down to me, but itwasmy idea. Now, I’ve got four siblings counting on it to work. I’ve let enough people down in my life already. No wish to add to that tally.
Well, Nate, why don’t you set tomorrow night to one side, and focus on ensuring you don’t let JP down, at least? Good tip, Nate. You’re welcome.
I spend the next while securing the leases on the harvester and the wine press. Be cheaper in the long run to buy, but we’re not in a position to think that far ahead. In ten years’ time, Flora Valley Wines may have been broken up and sold for parts.
The dude working on the website emails me his design, and it’s not bad. He and Shelby went to grade school together, and because their moms were friends, they hung out a lot. I amthisclose to asking him what Shelby was like as a kid. Instead, I print out the design and pin it to the wall.
JP’s still committed to the tasting room, but I don’t believe Commando Cam can handle such a big project. There’s an architect in Martinburg who’s got a good reputation for jobs like this. I call him, and he’s interested. We make a time to meet later in the week. He’ll contract construction workers as part of the deal. Shelby’s not going to like that, either.
I check the time. Better hit the road. I find Mom’s sandwich on the passenger seat of the pick-up. She told me it was chicken salad, and it’s been sitting for hours in a sun-baked cab. Sorry, Mom. That bad boy is going in the trash.
As I’m driving down Verity’s main street toward Bartons, I see Iris in the doorway of the Cracker Café. She sees me, too, so I nod a greeting. Iris’s response is a hard stare, and she’s still staring a full minute later, when I take a left into the Bartons parking lot. I know this because I felt an urge to keep checking my rearview mirror.
Bartons used to be a rundown Western-style saloon. But apart from the long, wooden bar, and a few antlers on the walls, you’d be hard-pressed to see any trace of the original building. Now, it could be any luxury hotel, anywhere in the sophisticated world. No idea how much money Ted would have spent on the refit. A fuck-ton ought to cover it.
Chiara, I was relieved to discover, only does the morning shift. The afternoon receptionist is also drop-dead gorgeous. She tells me Ted is expecting me and shows me to what I’ve always imagined is called a smoking room. Except that the buttoned-down wingback chairs in here are covered in emerald velvet, and not leather. And instead of portraits of dead ancestors, there’s – holy shit, is that a Picasso?
“Nathan, hello.”
Ted slips through the door, hand outstretched to shake mine, a smile on his face. He gestures for me to sit, and takes the chair opposite, crossing one leg over the other in a pose only a man who does not give a shit how people judge his sexuality can adopt. He’sChildren of the Cornblond, but his suit isamazing. Must have been made for him in London, because there’s no way he got that from Neiman Marcus. I’m dressed sharply enough in a dark shirt and pants, but next to Ted, I may as well be in spit-covered baby rompers.
“Well, now,” he says. “New customers for Flora Valley Wines, correct?”
“Correct,” I reply. “We need to expand the base and reach a new target market. We’re going online, but we need influencers to spread the word. Like yourself.”
“That’s very kind of you to include me in that category,” he says.
He’s not after flattery; he means it. Ted certainly has an ego, but it doesn’t need the outside world to boost it up. Reminds me of Max – and provokes in me the same stab of envy.
“I know that Flora Valley’s price point won’t suit this hotel,” I say.
My time in France taught me a lot about image versus quality. If you want your wine in a high-end hotel or restaurant, you need to price it to match. People’s perceptions of quality are entirely linked to how much they have to pay.
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s true,” Ted acknowledges.
“But if we were to produce a limited edition, exclusive to Bartons, would you consider adding it to your list?”
I’m not personally familiar with the Bartons customer base, but I guarantee they’ll be the social hierarchy-attuned wealthy, who like to brag about their latest discoveries. If Flora Valley is the hot, new thing here, it’ll be the hot new thingeverywhere. And if people can’t afford the limited edition, they can buy the main range direct from the vineyard. Preferably by the case.
