Page 48 of Let It Breathe
Chapter 7
Reese stared dumbfounded at the giant, sticky red lake on the floor.
It wasn’t blood, but that would have been preferable.
She gripped the edge of a wine barrel to keep herself steady. “What the hell happened?” she asked, bracing herself as a wave of nausea rolled through her.
Her ex-husband’s face revealed the same shell-shocked expression he’d worn the day Clay had stolen a milk truck in college and backed over his car.
“I have no idea,” Eric said. “I went out for a late lunch and then met with the wine distributor for Whole Foods, and when I came back?—”
“Holy hell,” Reese breathed.
“No kidding.”
“The Wine Club Pinot.” She thought saying it out loud might take some of the sting out, but it didn’t. She stared at the pool on the floor, blinking hard with the faint hope that when she opened her eyes again, the wine would be back in the barrel where it belonged.
Nope. Still there.
Beside her, Axl seemed uncharacteristically subdued. Even he understood what this meant. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
Clay cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what is Wine Club Pinot?”
Reese shook her head slowly, not trusting her voice yet. “For the last five years, we’ve had this wine club. It didn’t start out very big, but we’re up to over five hundred members this year. On top of their dues, they can pay to get a Reserve Pinot Noir bottled in limited quantities and only available to them.”
“It’s a special blend,” Eric said. “We only make one barrel of it, just to create hype and demand. I’ve had it in the barrel for three years. We did a small tasting last month to build up orders. Only wine club members get it.”
“There’s a waiting list,” Reese continued. “All the bottles have been presold.”
Clay frowned. “Do you mind if I ask how much?”
“Two hundred and eighty macaroons per bottle,” Axl grunted.
“Smackaroos,” Reese muttered, her eyes still fixed on the floor.
Eric shook his head. “And at three hundred bottles per barrel?—”
“We’re fucked,” Axl finished.
Reese shook her head. “It’s not just the money—it’s the hype we’ve had over this particular wine, this special, limited-edition wine available to a select group, and now?—”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. This couldn’t be real. Not when they’d been doing such a good job building their reputation as a premier winery. Not when people were really starting to take an interest in their wines.
“What happened?” she asked Eric.
Eric grunted and knelt on the floor beside the barrel. He pointed to a spot on the underside. “Take a look at this.”
Reese crouched down beside him. “It’s cracked.”
“Yup. A big crack, too.”
She bit her lip, afraid to say it. “Termites?”
“I doubt it. Doesn’t look like that kind of damage, and I don’t think termites would go after a wine barrel anyway.”
“But you were so worried?—”
“About the building,” Eric muttered. “I don’t want termites eating the building where we make wine, but I don’t think that’s what caused this.”
