Chapter Four
Chelsea poured herself a fresh coffee and took it outside to sit on the patio. She couldn’t settle for anything. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. She’d come home, taken a shower, cleaned the cottage, done laundry and dishes, and now she didn’t know what else to do with herself. She was going to call Mary Ellen, but she didn’t want to do it yet. Sometimes Mary Ellen slept late, and she didn’t want to wake her. She shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. That wasn’t the reason she hadn’t called. She hadn’t called because Mary Ellen would want to know every last detail about last night. She smiled. She wouldn’t mind telling her—not about last night—but she didn’t want to tell her about this morning. She didn’t want to tell her that Grant had wanted more than just one night, and she’d said no. Mary Ellen would tell her she was nuts. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe it was she who thought she was nuts. Why had she turned him down? He was going to be in town for a while. He was a great guy, and there was no denying they had chemistry. Why had she said no? Why did it have to be goodbye? She shrugged. She didn’t know. She didn’t need to know either. She’d made the decision. Goodbye had been said, and that was it. It wasn’t like she could call him and say she’d changed her mind. No numbers had been exchanged. They didn’t even know each other’s last name. She should lock him away as a sweet memory and leave it at that.
She picked up her cell phone with a rueful smile. She should report in with Mary Ellen and let her know that she was still alive. She dialed the number and waited.
“Morning! I’ve been wondering how you were doing. I didn’t know if you’d still be with him or what.”
“No. I’m home.”
“And did you have a good time?”
She chuckled. “Several very good times indeed, thank you.”
“I knew it! You could just tell he was the kind of guy who’d know what to do with it.”
Chelsea laughed. “Oh, he knew all right.”
“What a shame he’s only passing through.”
Chelsea made a face. “Actually, it turns out he’s not. He’s going to be in town for a while.”
“Awesome! Are you going to see him again then?”
“No.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. He asked, but I said no.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I like him. He’s a good guy, and he definitely knows what to do with it, but I’ve got enough on my plate at the moment. I think I need to focus on Zosca. I told you Dad’s set up a meeting for nine tomorrow morning with some consultant who he’s bringing in to help me.”
“Yeah, exactly. I’d have thought you might want a nice distraction outside of work if work’s going to be rough for a while.”
“No, I need to focus. I need to figure out how I can turn things around in my own way and prove that I don’t need any help.”
Mary Ellen was quiet.
“What?”
“Nothing. I never said a word.”
“I know. That’s not like you. What aren’t you saying?”
“It’s not my place, Chels. You know that. I’m in a difficult position here.”
“I know, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Mary Ellen worked for Hamilton-Groves. She was Chelsea’s brother, Cameron’s, assistant and right-hand woman. Although Zosca was nominally a separate business, they all knew that it still fell under the umbrella of the Hamilton-Groves Corporation. Mary Ellen’s silence made her uneasy. If her father and Cameron had plans to take Zosca away from her, Mary Ellen would know about it. “I’m going to make it work,” she insisted.
“I hope so. I really do. You’re not like the rest of the company. You and your label need to be out on your own. I hope this consultant sees that and doesn’t mess things up for you.”
“Yeah, me too. Anyway, what are you doing today?” Suddenly Chelsea wanted to be out and about with people today. She didn’t want to sit around the cottage fretting about tomorrow or reminiscing about last night.
“Piper just called to see if I wanted to go over for lunch. She said she was going to call you, too. What do you think? Do you want to?”
“Lunch with her or lunch with her and Cam?”
“Both, I think. Why?”
“Nothing. I’m just being silly. I’ll go if she calls me.”
“If you’re thinking Cam’s in on whatever your dad is doing with this consultant, I think you’re wrong. I didn’t know anything about it, and usually, whatever Cam knows, I know.”
“You’re right; that’s what I figured. It’s just when you were cagey about it, I thought you might know something I don’t.”
“No! I just didn’t want to offer an opinion. I’m your friend, and I care about you, but of course, I know the company line—and the fact that you don’t exactly toe it. I’m in a difficult place because I care about you and I also care about the company. I’ve got a foot in each camp. and I don’t want to upset anyone. That’s all.”
“I know, I was just being a little touchy, but I’m over it. If anything, I’m sure Cam will be able to offer me some sage, brotherly advice. Oh, wait. I’ve got another call coming in. It’s Piper. I guess I’ll see you at their place later.”
“Okay, see you later.”
~ ~ ~
Grant took his glasses off and set them down beside his laptop. He’d been going through the books for Zosca for a couple of hours now. On the one hand, they looked good—or at least they would if they were the numbers of a new company, establishing a new brand—and if it were keeping its overhead a little lower. Zosca wasn’t a new company. It was an old company under new management—the management that Mr. Hamilton Sr. was questioning. Grant blew out a sigh. He hadn’t been brought in to assess a new company. His job was to turn the company around, to return it to profitability as quickly as possible. He’d already found a whole slew of cuts he could make that would help. It wasn’t a major overhaul job. But he already knew that streamlining this business, in terms of the pruning analogy he’d used with Antonio last night, would be like cutting new growth. It would encourage more solid growth over time, but it would be at the cost of beautiful flowers. Whoever was managing the winery at the moment was focused on encouraging beautiful blooms. It was more a case of them being at odds with Mr. Hamilton’s vision than of them running the company poorly. He was curious to meet this mystery manager. He wouldn’t have long to wait now. He had a meeting with them and Mr. Hamilton tomorrow morning at nine.
He got up and stretched his arms over his head. He was achy this morning. Perhaps he should get out for a walk. It wasn’t like he needed to put hours and hours into the books. He already had a good picture of what needed to be done. He had a feeling this whole project was going to be more about clarifying the vision for the company. If Mr. Hamilton wanted it to become profit focused, all that would be needed were a few tweaks. If the person running it could convince Mr. Hamilton that the path they were on was the right one, then there were still a few tweaks and efficiencies that could be implemented, but that was all. He was starting to doubt that there’d be enough to the project to earn him much credibility with Mr. Hamilton.
His phone rang, and he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey, buddy. Did you stick around and have a good time last night?”
“Antonio, good morning. I did, thanks. I’m guessing you didn’t need my call to save you?”
Antonio’s laugh was rich and deep. “No, but thanks for making it. I stayed with Alissa till lunch time. I was good. What about you? Did you take my advice and find yourself a sweet little thing?”
“I did.”
“Good! I had the feeling you were going to slink off back to the hotel and work.”
“I almost did, but that drink you sent saved me. She walked in just a few minutes later, and she’s amazing.”
“Is or was? We’ve always talked about last night’s woman in the past tense.”
Grant hadn’t even been aware that he’d used the present tense. “Was, of course.”
“Uh-oh, you’re not seeing her again, are you?”
Grant laughed. “No.” He wasn’t about to admit that he would be seeing her again if it were up to him.
“Good, you needed a distraction—a short and physical distraction—not to find an emotional involvement.”
Grant laughed. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that’s what she said.”
“Wow. She sounds like a smart lady.”
“She is, smart and hot and … Yeah, yeah. I know. It was one night. That’s all.”
“You be careful. You’re scaring me.”
“No need. I wouldn’t know how to find her again if I wanted to. No last names, no numbers, no nothing.”
“Good. You have to get down to work tomorrow.”
“I know, I know, but that doesn’t help me much today. I was just thinking I should get out for a walk or something—clear my head, get her out of my mind. What are you doing?”
“I’ll come get you. I was going to head to the office for a few hours, but it sounds like your need is greater than mine. I’ll take you out for a drive, tour the countryside and we can catch up.”
“Thanks, Antonio. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me. I’ve missed you. It’s so good to see you.”
“Aww, you’re a softie at heart, aren’t you?”
“Nah. I’m a self-serving egotist really. I just can’t dig that streak of Italian sentimentality out of my being.”
Grant laughed. “I’m glad. I’ll see you in a little while, then?”
“Yeah. I’ll swing by in about twenty minutes.”
Grant went down to the lobby and decided to take a short walk while he waited. Talking to Antonio about Chelsea had made him realize that he needed to get her out of his head. He kept thinking about her, kept having memory flashes, not just of the great sex or her hot little body either. No, he kept remembering little things she’d said. How funny she was. The way she squinted and looked deep into his eyes as if to distract herself from thinking about something else. She was a great girl. She was the kind of girl he’d like to get into a relationship with someday. But, of course, part of the attraction was that she wasn’t the kind of girl who was looking to get into a relationship. Most of the women he’d dated wouldn’t have been anywhere near as philosophical over a breakup as she was. He left the lobby and walked down the street smiling to himself at the difference between Chelsea and Shelly, his last girlfriend. When he’d broken up with her, Shelly had told him how disappointed she was. She’d come to rely on him for her happiness. She didn’t want to hear that she no longer made him happy. Chelsea, by contrast, was happy to let a relationship go since she wasn’t making her boyfriend happy. Grant much preferred Chelsea’s take. When he finally settled down, he wanted it to be with someone who wanted to make him happy as much as he wanted to make her happy. He didn’t buy into the notion that it was all up to a guy to do the happy-making. He wanted to be part of an equal partnership. With someone like Chelsea. No. He was supposed to be getting her out of his head—not modeling his ideal relationship around her.
He looked up at the sound of a car horn blaring. It was Antonio. He’d pulled over on the other side of the street and was gesturing for him to come on.
“Did you forget about me?” he asked as Grant climbed into the passenger seat.
“No. I just wanted to get some fresh air.”
“You’ll get all the fresh air you need. We’re going to the winery. You should see the place, see how the best run winery in the valley looks before you go into some second rate one to try to save it.”
“You mean, you realized you need to go to work after all, and you’re trying to make it look like it’s for my benefit?”
Antonio nodded agreeably. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Could you be gracious enough to accept my generosity in offering to help you out?”
Grant laughed. “Of course. How stupid of me. Thank you so much for your benevolence, oh great one.”
“That’s better.”
Grant stared out the window as the car zipped down the country lanes on the way to Antonio’s winery. “It sure is some pretty country.”
“It is. I can’t believe you haven’t come back sooner.”
“I didn’t want to come back until I thought I might have the chance to stay.”
“And you think that’s a possibility now?”
Grant shrugged. He couldn’t tell Antonio his hopes about working for Hamilton-Groves since he couldn’t tell him who his client was. “I’d like to think so.”
“Why don’t you just buy a little place of your own? You must have enough stashed away by now. You could do what so many do, buy a little piece of ground, grow some grapes and call yourself a winemaker if that’s what you really want.”
“That isn’t what I want. I need to be a successful winemaker. When my grandfather lost his place, I was only a little kid, but it broke my heart. I’ve always promised myself I’d come back and do it right one day. I want to make great wine, but it needs to be a great business, too. Until I’m sure I can make that a reality, then I’d rather keep working on other people’s businesses, helping to make them great.”
Antonio shot a look at him. “Is that why you do what you do? You save businesses, before they fail like your grandfather’s did? I never thought of it like that before.”
Grant nodded slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever admitted it to anyone before, but yes, it is. My grandad refused to make any of the tough decisions that could have saved his business. It’s easy for me to come in as an outsider and do that. I like to think of it as tough love. I do what needs to be done. It’s not easy, but it’s much better than the companies going bust.”
Antonio nodded thoughtfully. “I still want to know who you’re going to save here. I can’t think of many places that would need you, and even fewer who would admit it.”
“Well, they sure don’t want to admit it publicly. At least not yet. I’m hoping that I won’t be expected to work in secret the whole time. That could prove tough.”
“I’m sure you and your client will come up with a good press line by the end of tomorrow.”
“I hope so.” Grant looked around as Antonio pulled into the driveway. Vineyards stretched as far as the eye could see. “You’ve done so well for yourself here.”
“I have,” agreed Antonio with a smile. “You can, too, if you choose.”
“Maybe.” Grant would love to think he could build or buy just a small vineyard. It didn’t need to be a huge business, and it didn’t need to be next week or even next year, but one day, he’d love to own a place of his own. He’d love to continue his grandfather’s legacy—safe in the knowledge that he knew enough to run it well.
~ ~ ~
“Are you okay?” asked Piper.
Chelsea smiled at her. She’d grown to love her brother’s fiancée and couldn’t wait for the two of them to get married. “I’m fine, thanks. If I look terrible, it’s because I had a bit of a late night, that’s all.” They were in the kitchen at Cam and Piper’s place. Chelsea was helping her bring everything out to the deck where they were going to eat, while Mary Ellen and Cameron talked work outside.
“No, you look great.” Piper looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I heard your dad talking about this consultant he’s bringing in. I know no one else knew about it—not even Cam. I’ve been worried about you but didn’t feel it was my place to tell you. Now you do know about it, I just want to tell you that I’m here for you, if you want to talk.”
Chelsea smiled. “Thanks, Piper. I might just take you up on that. I can’t really talk to Cam or Mary El about it; it’s not fair to them, but I might come and bend your ear if it all gets to be too much. I’ll know more tomorrow when I meet the guy—assuming it is a guy. You know, till I said that, I had been assuming it’s a guy. Now I don’t know if it will be better or worse if it’s a woman. Whoever it is, I just want to tell them to go shove it.”
Cameron came into the kitchen and gave her a puzzled look. “Who needs to shove it?”
“Never you mind.” She didn’t want to get into that whole thing with him now. She didn’t want to ruin the afternoon. They were all supposed to be having fun. She was supposed to be taking her mind off it. And besides, she had a feeling that after today, they wouldn’t be talking much about anything else until this whole consultant invading her business episode blew over—or blew up in her face!