There wasn’t anything wrong with the plans, per se. The entrance was a monolithic thing constructed of chrome and glass, rising to a peak at the front with the rest of the building a lower, sprawling rectangle behind it. I barely listened as the weasel shuffled through the plans for the inside, speaking about how people would walk into a grand foyer where we could set up our gift shop and rest rooms. The bar beyond was full of sharp lines, reflective textures, and so much proposed neon my eyes hurt simply staring at the page.
“No,” I said, cutting the weasel off in the middle of a sentence, finally finding my voice.
The weasel glanced at me, heaving a world-weary sigh, and Owen’s forehead scrunched.
“No, what?” Owen asked.
“This”—I gestured at the plans, at the materials, at the weasel’s whole…person—“isn’t going to work.”
“Why not?” Owen seemed genuinely curious, which I supposed was a good sign. This was the first test of our partnership and, while I was certain he didn’t particularly appreciate my protestations, he was at least humoring me.
“It’s too pretentious for this far north,” I told him honestly. “It’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“And that’s…a bad thing?”
“I was under the impression that was the point,” the weasel said with an eye roll, and I cut him a glare.
“This won’t be in the city,” I snapped. “This will be in the country, the wilderness. We’re not building with the intention of welcoming in wealthy clientele who will spend gobs of moneyon our spirits. I’m sure we’ll get guests like that on occasion, but they won’t make up the bulk of our patronage. We’ll be welcoming in moms and dads, students on vacation and friends celebrating weddings. It just won’t work. I have some—”
I reached for my laptop, but the weasel cut me off. “I’m sure you’ve spent plenty of time with your little daydreams, but let the big boys handle this, little girl.” He turned to Owen. “Does she need to be here?”
“Sheis half owner of this building and the land it will sit on,” I reminded him. “How dare—”
“Owen, can you please get your girl on a leash so we can approve the plans and move on?”
My blood instantly boiled, my cheeks flushing red hot with the rage rising in my chest. Who thefuckdid this guy think he was? And what was Owen doing, standing there watching this man insult me and not coming to my defense? If this was how things were going to be…
With jerky movements, I gathered my things and stalked for the door.
I glanced at Owen over my shoulder and said, “Call me when you realize I’m right.”
I stormed out and, the moment I threw myself behind the wheel of my car, I dialed my sister.
“Hey, Lia,” Amara said when she answered. “How’d your meeting go?”
“Fuck Owen, fuck the weasel, and fuck this partnership!” I shouted. “How dare you get me into this?”
“Woah,” my sister said. “Slow down and tell me what’s going on.”
Quickly, I explained the disastrous meeting, and by the time I finished, shouting expletives about the weasel and his stupid rodent-like face, Amara and I had dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Our laughter lifted some of the weight that had settled on my chest, the anger coursing through my veins ebbing.
“Really, Mar!” I gasped. “He looked like Timothy Spall with less hair.”
My sister cackled harder, and I had to pull over on the side of the road as tears blurred my vision.
When we’d both composed ourselves again, I pulled back onto the highway that would take me home, wiping the stray moisture from my face.
“I needed that laugh,” I said. “It’s only day one and we’re already fighting! I can’t believe he didn’t even come to my defense. He’s supposed to be mypartner. Remind me why I thought this was a good idea?”
“Because you were made for this, Lia,” Amara said, her tone instantly soothing more of my frayed nerves. She was barely a year older than me, but there was nothing like having your big sister remind you of what was important.
And what was important here was that I was strong, intelligent, and capable. I knew the plans the weasel had brought us were garbage.
We didn’t need endless chrome, glass, and shiny surfaces. This was a distillery on the north end of Old Mission, not a night club on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. We wanted to embrace nature, not fight it. My vision for the place was simple: a warm, cabin-in-the-woods vibe. From the outside, it would be unassuming. The exterior would be constructed to look like a log cabin,the inside walls the same wood, though planed and stained. Poured concrete floors. A corrugated steel bar with a bird’s eye maple top and tables around the main room to match. The interior would be divided in three: the gift shop and bathrooms near the front, the bar area itself, and the stills at the back, viewable through a wall of plexiglass. I’d include a lot of natural elements, like more wood and stone, in the overall decor. Lots of warm, earthy tones. We’d include a patio off one side for outdoor seating in the summer sunshine that could easily be winterized with vinyl sheeting and a small, wood-burning fireplace in the corner. Plush, faux-leather seating that was easy to clean. A gravel parking lot.
It would be romantic and sexy, but rustic and cozy. Everyone who walked through the doors would feel like family, exactly as our patrons to the winery did. Obviously, I wasn’t an architect or an interior designer, but IknewI was right.
