Page 92 of Let It Breathe
Sheila—who must’ve driven Eric—squeezed her husband’s hand. “I don’t like this. Any of it. This whole thing seems dangerous to me.”
“Accidents happen, hon,” Eric said.
“Are we sure it was an accident?” Larissa asked.
Reese frowned at her cousin. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. Just speculating if anyone would want to do this on purpose.”
Jed sighed. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. The guys from the fire department will be checking everything out. It doesn’t do us any good to speculate right now.”
June linked her arm through his and gave a weak smile. “The damage could have been worse. Someone could have been injured or even killed.”
Sheila shot a worried look at Eric. “Is it safe to be in there? Did the fire marshal clear it yet for you guys to work?”
“We can get our work done,” Reese said, “but it can’t be open to the public.”
“What about the event next week?” Larissa asked.
Reese shook her head. “It doesn’t look good for holding it inside. Not unless the guests want to smell like a bonfire.”
“The invitations went out last week,” Larissa moaned. “We’ve already got more than a hundred RSVPs. After that thing with the Reserve Pinot, the wine club already hates us. If we have to cancel?—”
“Not an option,” Reese snapped, and Clay watched her straighten like a rod had speared her spine. “Our reputation is already tanking. Did you see that article from that online news site?”
Sheila sighed. “The article wasn’t so bad, but the headline?—”
“‘Local Vineyard Suffers String of Misfortunes,’” Eric muttered. “They might as well have kicked us in the nuts while we’re already on the ground.”
“How the hell did they get all that information anyway?” Larissa asked. “The fire stuff I get—they listen to the scanner—but the things about the broken barrel and the construction?—”
“Reporters are assholes,” Reese muttered. “Let’s deal with one thing at a time.”
Larissa winced. “I hate to bring it up, but we’ve got our call today with Kate Geary.”
“Who?” Eric asked.
“That big-shot producer Larissa’s been talking to about the documentary,” Reese reminded him. “The one about women in the wine industry?”
“I’ll call her and reschedule.” Larissa sounded grim. “The last thing we want right now is somebody roaming around with cameras.”
“Dammit.” Reese squeezed her eyes shut and Clay fought the urge to reach for her hand. “Don’t let her lose interest in us, okay? We need that publicity. Being featured in a film like that would be?—”
“—bad if we can’t get our shit together.” Larissa forlorn. “I know they say there’s no such thing as bad publicity, but at the rate we’re going right now?—”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Reese sighed. “We’ll deal with that later. What are we going to do about the event?”
Clay cleared his throat, not wanting to intrude, but figuring he might be able to help. “Could you hold the event outside?”
Reese gave him a sad smile. “In the Willamette Valley? In May? You know as well as I do there’s a good chance it’ll rain.”
“What if you had tents?”
“Tents?”
“Sure,” Clay said, thinking fast. “Dorrington Construction has some of those big tents. They’re for the company picnics and some of the trade shows we go to. You could probably get a couple hundred people under them and I think we’ve got two.”
Larissa brightened. “Do they rent them out?”
