Page 123 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“And youneedto let go.” Davis’s voice rang out across the now empty parking lot.
His father’s jaw dropped. And Davis realized this was the first time he’d ever stood his ground with the man.
“I’m your sonandyour operations manager. But that doesn’t mean that I’m a child or some irresponsible employee who wants to ruin everything you’ve built. I want to grow what you started. I want to put my mark on it, just like you did. And I want to live my life the way I see fit.”
Ferguson sputtered.
“Dad,” Davis said solemnly. “You built something great here, and I want my chance at it. I’m tired of having both arms tied behind my back because you don’t trust me.”
Ferguson threw his hands up in the air. “How could I trust you when you continue to make bad decisions? That Moody girl—”
“Already told me I don’t have a chance with her. But she’s what I’ve been waiting my whole life for, Dad. There’s a lot more to life than just work. Community, family, love. Maybe you need some reminding. Eden reminded me. She’s smart, funny, brilliant at business. You’d be lucky to have her as part of the family.”
“Part of the family?” Ferguson’s face changed from a ruddy tan to beet red.
“Calm down,” Davis warned him.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m sick of being told to calm down!”
“Your heart—”
“Is fine! I’m in the best damn shape of my life. Bryson has me eating vegetarian. Your mother hired me a personal trainer. And I meditate now!” he growled, obviously not thrilled with any of it.
“It’s working so well for you,” Davis said dryly.
“I’m tired of being treated like I’m an invalid.”
“I’m tired of being treated like a child,” Davis shot back. “I can’t beyouanymore thanyoucould beyourfather. But if you can’t trust me with the business you started, if you don’t believe that I have the vineyard’s and the family’s best interests at heart, then maybe it’s time that I follow in your footsteps and walk away.”
It was a pot shot. But one his father needed to hear.
“I didn’twalkaway. I was forced out.”
“Why? Because your father didn’t think you had the family’s best interests at heart?” Davis shot back.
“That’s not fair, Davis.”
Davis sighed, closed his eyes for a moment and felt the December sun on his face. “You know what’s not fair? Me blaming you for keeping me from what I wanted. That’s all on me. I’m responsible for my choices just like you’re responsible for yours. Now, it’s your turn to make a choice, Dad.”
Davis took a breath and ignored the set of his father’s jaw.
“I respect you, and I love you. And I will always be your son. But you need to decide if you want me running this business. Because I’m going to want to make changes, and some of those changes might someday involve Eden Moody. If I can wear her down and she can get out of her own damn stubborn way. So, you have to choose, let me run the winery or hire someone else who will do your bidding.”
“What has this girl done to you?” Ferguson demanded.
Davis shook his head sadly. “You’re missing out on so much, Dad.”
“I don’t need to be lectured by you, too. I’ve got Bryson doing enough of that.”
Davis checked his watch, winced. “Maybe you should listen to one of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have someplace I need to be.”
Walking away felt good. As did the fact that his father was still standing, not doubled over clutching his chest. One way or another, this was their new beginning.
* * *
Dear Sheriff Cardona,
We are writing to confess our role in the unfortunate and completely accidental fire at the home of Davis Gates. We are an innocent group of teenagers, only meaning to cause mischief with a silly stink bomb, and had no intentions of committing arson.
