“You need your VP of Marketing to make that happen.”
“I’ll talk to Gregory tomorrow.”
Cate stared at her fingers tapping against her wine glass. After a moment’s pause, she glanced up and asked, “You know what’s on his mind?”
Meredith wasn’t an ostrich when it came to the winery. Gregory’s dissatisfaction stemmed from a lack of authority to make marketing decisions. The same frustration she’d voiced while working in that position. Her father never relinquished control to her. Could she give it to Gregory? “We’ll talk about it.”
“Can you let go of the department?”
“This is between Gregory and me.” Meredith’s voice sounded calm with no noticeable wobble, but if her stomach was any indication of the state of her nerves, then she was as jittery as an old woman with palsy on a good day. Her overactive nerves weren’t just because Gregory balked under the constraints of her leadership, but was a sign of the deeper concern she had over health issues. A familiar tug took place in her heart—the need to reach out to a compassionate friend warred with her need for privacy. And right now, privacy won out. “What have I missed that didn’t make it into an email?”
Cate harrumphed. “If you won’t talk about Gregory, will you tell me where you’ve been?”
“I stopped in Kentucky to see a friend.”
“You don’t have any friends in Kentucky.”
If there was a downside to working with someone for years, Cate just pounced on it, forcing Meredith to confess or lie, neither of which she wanted to do. So she mentally flipped a coin and then said under her breath loud enough for Cate to hear, “I do now.”
“Well?” Cate’s eyes grew wide. She waited expectantly for an explanation.
“He’s just a friend.”
“He?” Cate grabbed her cell phone off the table. “It will only take one call to find out who he is. Why don’t you tell me and save me the trouble?”
Meredith’s assistant was extremely resourceful and often found information that eluded Meredith. She was curious to see what Cate could discover. “Go for it.”
Cate punched in a number. “Hey, this is Cate. I’m updating Meredith’s travel log. Where’d you stop last night? Really? How many cars did you rent? They did? Who’d they work for? No. No. That’s all I need. Thanks.” Cate punched more buttons on her cell. Waited a minute, punched some more. Then she read from her mobile device. “Dr. Elliott Fraser, fifty, single, veterinarian, and CEO of MacKlenna Farm. Originally from Inverness, Scotland, Dr. Fraser has called MacKlenna Farm home for over thirty years.” She stopped reading and glanced at Meredith. “There’s more, including several pictures. Should I continue?”
Meredith shook her head. “I’ve already read it.”
Cate laughed. “My God, I was kidding when I said to find a smooth-talking Scotsman. Well, I wasn’t really kidding, but I didn’t think you would. Tell me something not in his bio.” She drank her wine, but her eyes never stopped tracking Meredith’s face.
“He’s demanding and has a horrible temper.”
“So what else do you have in common?”
Meredith whistled. “That’s below the belt.”
“Maybe. But it’s true. You never yelled at your staff before you became president.”
“Under the circumstances—”
“There are no under the circumstances,” Cate said. “You’re sailing through your circumstances.”
A sudden chill wrapped around Meredith thicker than her fur coat. “It’s a hell of a stormy course.”
“Rough seas will eventually calm down, or you’ll get a bigger boat. You know that,” Cate said.
The wind sighed through the bare trellising surrounding the house, reminding Meredith of her responsibilities. “I didn’t have this pressure when Daddy was alive.” She had a different kind of pressure. It wasn’t the pressure to succeed, but the pressure to prove she could.
“You don’t have to carry it all.”
“I’m the first woman to run this business. I can’t fail.” Maybe her ancestor was haunting her and not MacKlenna Farm. Maybe he was afraid she would bring the whole kit and caboodle tumbling down, and he popped in to be sure she didn’t. She glanced around the terrace wondering if he’d make an appearance at the winery, too.
“If you don’t let up on the reins, you won’t have anyone working for you.”
Meredith flinched at the iciness in Cate’s tone. “Does that include you?”
“I can tell you to your face what others are saying behind your back.”
“What? That I’m a bitch?” Meredith said it matter-of-factly, but the insinuation cut out a sliver of her heart. She dearly loved the men and women who worked at the winery. Many of them had been around since her childhood. They were family.
Cate didn’t say anything, and silence lengthened between them. Damn, the tension-filled silence. Meredith had been a participant in too many silent conversations lately. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she considered an answer. “It’ll be better after the launch.”
“If you don’t make some changes soon, you’ll be launching this wine by yourself.”
“I’ll call a staff meeting tomorrow.”
“And tell everybody what?”
Meredith pushed her chair away from the table, but she didn’t stand and run, even though that was exactly what she wanted to do. “Damn it, Cate. Give me a break.”
Cate reached for Meredith’s hand, which was gripping the edge of the table. “Don’t call a meeting until you meet with Gregory.”
Meredith let out a slow breath, squeezed Cate’s hand in return, then let it go. “You’ve always been honest with me, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Meredith sipped her wine. “I guess the staff will be disappointed to have me back in the office.”
“Why did you come back?”
“You called me with bad news.”
“But I told you not to cut your trip short.”
Meredith cocked an eyebrow. “Now I see why.”
Cate emptied her glass and set it on the serving tray. “Are you going back?”
“To Kentucky?” Meredith shrugged. “I don’t know. I need to stay in town right now.”
“If you’d give Gregory—”
“Tomorrow, Cate.” Her assistant was not only her employee, but also her friend. If Cate didn’t stop pressing, she’d push through the limits set by both relationships and suffer consequences Meredith didn’t want to impose. She let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “I’ll talk to him in the morning. Go home and call him. Ask him to meet me at Gillwoods Café at ten o’clock.”
“Your calendar is clear for the rest of the week, if you want to go—”
Meredith held up her hands, wishing they were a protective brick wall. “Go. Home.”
Cate maintained eye contact for a second or two, then broke away, collected her purse and phone, and left. A couple of minutes later, Cate’s late model BMW roared to life.
“Damn it.” Meredith snatched her glass from the table and walked to the edge of the stone terrace. She was weighed down by a heavy heart and even heavier load on her mind.
In the valley below, her vineyards stretched for miles, lit by a quarter slice of moon. She reached out and grabbed a fist full of air—a moment of time. She opened her fist, but there was nothing there. The moment was gone. That was her life—moment to moment. Some appeared as roses. Some appeared as brush. She couldn’t change yesterday. Nor could she guarantee tomorrow. All she had was now.
She stepped back over to the table and emptied the bottle into her glass. She then lifted the goblet in a salute. “To this moment—scrub brush or silky rose. It’ll never come again.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Montgomery Winery, Napa Valley, California – December 28
MEREDITH ARRIVED AT the winery’s office around seven the next morning. The stone, one-story building housed only the executive staff. The kitchen, tasting room, and wine store were located in another si
milarly constructed building connected to the office by a covered pass-through. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen. After checking the menu for the afternoon tasting, she continued on to her office.
When she entered the president’s suite, she stopped and glared at the mail overflowing from her outbox. Her heart palpitated, and her chest grew tight. It would take an hour she didn’t have this morning to clean out the box. Although Cate had drafted responses and paper clipped them to the original letter, nothing went out without Meredith’s final review.
Not only the in/outbox overflowed, but the desk chair held a two-inch stack of memos and other documents from staff that required her immediate attention. Everyone knew if they wanted Meredith to read their notes and memos immediately, they should put the documents on her chair. She couldn’t sit without picking them up. If you landed on top of the stack, chances were good you’d get a quick response. She’d even heard stories of employees coming in late at night to move their memo to the top of the stack. Meredith shook her head. Something had to change. She couldn’t continue the way she was going. Obviously, stress was making her sick.
Today, the top document was the Springsteen revised contract. “Whew. Thank God.” Anxiety dropped a notch. Now, if she could commit to a menu, she could check the two biggest items off her list.
The desk phone had a blinking message light. She entered her code and played her messages. Gregory confirmed a ten o’clock meeting at Gillwoods. Great. She’d need a few minutes between now and then to organize her thoughts and decide on her bottom line. Although that would remain fluid until they shook on a deal.
She placed her laptop and purse on top of the mahogany desk that had belonged to her father, grandfather, his father, and his father before him. Where the antique originally came from, she didn’t know, but the previous occupants had left their mark. Her father had set the desk against the wall and covered the top with glass. Spilled coffee had seeped underneath and stained the wood, creating ugly white patches around the edges of the glass.
Her great-grandfather had moved the desk from the villa at the turn of the twentieth century and set it in the center of the room so he could see the vineyards from the picture window. Sun exposure had weathered the desk unevenly.
Her great-great-grandfather had a front panel removed so air could circulate underneath. Her great-great-great grandfather kept the desk in the corner of the library and rarely used it. Her great-great-great-great grandfather, Cullen Montgomery, had preferred a roll top with dozens of cubbyholes. That desk now stood in the waiting area with a phone for visitor’s to use.
The mahogany desk had miraculously survived the fire of 1890 and became sort of a Montgomery talisman. Meredith treasured it, felt inspired working there, and although the desk needed to be refinished, she couldn’t bear to let it out of her possession.
She glanced up at her father’s portrait hanging over the fireplace. “Morning, Dad. Wish you were here.” He was an imposing man, but then all the Montgomery men had cut a dashing figure—dark hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, and brilliant. She could use a healthy dose of their brilliance to see her through the day. What would you do about Gregory, Dad?
She could hear his answer. “Would losing him make your life easier or more difficult?”
That was simple to answer. More difficult.
Most mornings, the deep hunter green walls embraced her, but not this morning. She felt itchy, almost claustrophobic. Maybe she should have the walls painted a neutral color. Make the office softer, more feminine, put her own mark on the room instead of continuing her father’s.
She checked her watch—nine-thirty. As soon as she met with Gregory, she’d drive to San Francisco. Her doctor’s office had left a message at home. The fine needle aspiration report had not found cancer cells, which thrilled her but concerned her doctor. He explained that the needle could have missed the tumor and taken a sample from normal cells. Because of her history, he scheduled an appointment at the San Francisco Breast Care Center for further evaluation.
Since she was going into the city, she scheduled a dress fitting with her designer. She might not be in the mood after leaving the center, but at least she’d be able to check another item off her list. Keep moving forward.
Meredith had the caterer on the phone when Cate entered the office and handed her a note. Her “Kentucky friend” was on the line. Meredith covered the receiver. “Tell him I’ll call him back in a few minutes.” The caterer wouldn’t let Meredith go until she settled on a menu. “Done. I’m checking this off my list,” she said at the conclusion of the call. Then she sat back in the chair and rolled her shoulders as if they were stiff. Her insides were like a pinball machine going bing, bang, bing. If Louise’s five-point analysis held any validity, Elliott needed to call her, and he had. Time to call him back.
He answered on the second ring. “Fraser.”
A hospital page blared in the background. “It’s Meredith. It sounds like you’re still in the hospital. How are you?” There was silence until she heard a door close.
“Sorry about that. I had to clear the room.” He let out a relaxing sigh. “Much better now.”
She stood and walked over to the picture window. “Any word on how long you’ll be in there?”
“I’m going home tomorrow with or without Lyles’ permission.”
A twinge of anger coursed through her at his cavalier attitude about his health. “Hmm. Not sure what to say about that.”
“I told him you wouldn’t come back to Kentucky as long as I was in the hospital.”
“You got that right. I don’t like hospitals.”
“Bad memories, huh?”
She braced her hip against the wide window ledge that held a collection of antique wine openers. She picked up one with a sterling and stag horn antler handle and tested the weight in her hand. “Let’s just say I’ve never had a good experience in one.”
Silence again.
She put down the opener and went back to her desk. This wasn’t going well. They were avoiding the elephant in the room.
“I didn’t mean to imply yesterday that what you did wasn’t important,” he said.
Bingo.
“If I thought that, I’d be saying my da’s passion for wine wasn’t important either.”
If she heard right, he just apologized in a roundabout way. “You are feeling better.”
“I don’t apologize often, Mer, but I was wrong. If you can make time in your schedule, I’d like to see you again. Come back and let me show you a real Kentucky welcome.”
She plopped down in her chair. Her heart pounded. Decision time. What would it be? Yes or no. “Did Kevin write you a script to follow?”
Elliott laughed. “Sort of. He threatened to quit if I didn’t call and apologize.”
She shook her head. How could she not see Elliott again? Yes, he did have a way of pissing her off, but he also made her feel alive. And there was the little matter of her ancestor’s ghost. Admit it. You’re itching to go back. She pressed a hand against her stomach to calm the turmoil of indecision.
“I’d come to California, but David and Kevin won’t facilitate an escape,” Elliott said.
She clicked open her Outlook calendar. There were no appointments scheduled for the next four days other than the big ones: A doctor’s appointment and an appointment with Gregory.
“Let’s pretend we’re back in Edinburgh,” Elliott said.
“You don’t even know when you’re getting out of the hospital, and I’ve got appointments today that will impact the rest of the week. If they go well—”
“You’ll come back?”
“Let me see how things go,” she said.
“I’ll call you in a few hours.”
How long would she be at the clinic after her conversation with Gregory, and depending on the test results, how long would it take to calm down afterwards? “I have commitments through dinner. I’ll call you.”
“You don’t have a g
ood track record when it comes to calling. I’ll call you tonight at eight o’clock your time to confirm your travel plans.”
“But . . .”
He laughed, and the call went dead. Dang. Was she that transparent or was he so used to women coming at a flick of his finger?
She gazed out the window at the vineyards blanketed with a morning fog that mimicked her mind, which normally clipped at a steady rate of speed on a well-known path. Now it sputtered along on a bumpy, unchartered course.
Get through today, then go with the flow, and see where it takes you.
Chapter Forty
Gilwoods Café, Napa, California – December 28
AT TEN O’CLOCK, Meredith entered Gillwoods Café in the Napa Town Center. The family-style restaurant, which featured all-day breakfast, had opened in Napa in 1997. It was one of her favorite places to meet for coffee. And the bakery, with its to-die-for, mouth-watering cinnamon rolls, always had one piping hot just for her.
She glanced around, searching the booths and tables until she spotted Gregory sitting at a two-top in the corner, drinking coffee from the café’s logo mug and reading from his iPad. She punched up her nerves with a shot of determination and sat down across from him.
“What will it take to get you back?” she asked.
He compressed his lips, saying nothing, and then he looked at her. “Hello, Meredith. Good to see you, too.”
She kept her face placid, intending not to react to his hostile tone.
He set the iPad aside. “For starters, fire the web designer.”
She was expecting that to be one of his conditions. “They’re not that bad, Greg. And they’ve worked for us for years. There’re loyalties to consider.”
“The website has been down for five days.”
A waitress approached the table, and Meredith ordered coffee. “Who would you use?” she asked. “We can’t hire one of the competitors in the valley. That’d be bad for business.”
“We’ll handle it in house.”
Meredith glanced at the waitress and smiled as she poured coffee into a mug and then refilled Gregory’s. When the woman walked away, Meredith said, “You don’t have time to take on more work.”
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