Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Gross what?” After what felt like an eternity, August cleared his throat. “Are you talking about that thick layer of shit that appeared on the surface after I pressed the grapes and put them in the barrels?”
She exhaled. “Yes.”
The fact that they were on the same page relaxed his shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess . . . about a week.”
Problem number one detected. The gross lees should be racked off after one or two days. But she didn’t say it out loud. She simply nodded when he looked back at her over his shoulder.
“I’ve got this, Natalie,” he said. “It’s all right if you want to go back to the house. Or . . .”
“Oh,” she said, a little caught off guard. She was no stranger to going toe-to-toe with August, but he’d never outright dismissed her. “I thought we were going to dig into the issues you’re having with production.”
“Yeah. It’s just, uh . . .” He coughed. “It’s just that I feel like I have to do this for Sam alone. It’s my responsibility. I want the responsibility.”
Natalie ignored the wound that formed in the center of her belly. Just like Corinne and Julian, August wanted things done a certain way and it did not include Natalie. She was not welcome. Both vineyards could be sinking into the red and still, her assistance would not be required. Same old story. But why did it hurt more that August wanted to manage on his own? That he didn’t want any help—her help—with the winemaking? She was used to her family being dismissive of her efforts but August . . . again, he wasn’t supposed to push her away. It stung, even if she understood that his grief over Sam caused him to react in ways no one could fully comprehend.
Setting aside the hurt, she took a moment to try to see things from his perspective. He’d gone on this mission for his best friend. August was the only one standing here who knew what Sam wanted. “I haven’t lost anyone close to me, but I think grief can be expressed in a lot of different ways.”
August’s shoulders drooped a little, his eyes casting guarded gratitude in her direction. “I wouldn’t talk to the guys about Sam’s death. I didn’t even tell anyone but my CO that I was coming here, buying the vineyard. I didn’t want any of them to ask to be involved. Isn’t that fucked up?” He rubbed at his throat. “It’s just that I was closer to him than anyone else and . . .”
“You want to carry all the weight yourself.”
“Yeah. If I give anyone else some of the weight, it feels like a cop out. Or like I’m shirking responsibility. So I just have to do it alone.”
Natalie marveled over the fact that she could experience such a piercing sense of sympathy for someone she’d once thought was a bumbling ogre. Occasionally still did. “Do you think he would want it this way? You carrying all the weight?”
August stopped in the middle of nodding. “No.” He let out a gust of breath. “No, he definitely wouldn’t. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “You have to do it your way, August. You’re the only one who knows what that is.” They stared at each other across the barn for several moments, before Natalie realized she was the intruder. Was he waiting for her to leave so he could continue? The possibility made her speak a little too quickly. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work. Sorry for acting like a jealous wife this morning.”
“I liked you being a jealous wife—” Immediately, he backpedaled. “No, wait. No. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t like you being jealous, but I loved you expecting more from me.”
A weight slowly traveled from her throat to the center of her chest.
He said the most impactful things sometimes. And he meant them.
But the poor bonehead couldn’t see that simply letting her help would have the biggest impact of all. Explaining that to him would force him into sharing before he was ready.
Maybe he would never be ready.
“Oh well.” The barriers she’d been too tired to engage at the crack of dawn were now up and running, thank God. She stepped backward out of the barn with her chin raised. “I’m going for a walk. I owe Claudia a call back—”
“Wait a few minutes,” he said quickly, fumbling the long wooden spoon a little. “I’ll come with you. Show you around.”
“No, thanks. I’m fine to go alone.” Before she could turn away from his frown, she remembered something and she snapped her fingers. “Oh wait. I’ve been meaning to ask you. Does this property have a wine cave?”
“Uh . . . yeah.” He swiped a wrist across his forehead, but the frown remained. “Yeah, there is an entrance at the rear of the event barn. Or what was going to be the event barn.”