"Emma!" Brennen looks horrified. "That was from a two-hundred-dollar bottle!"
"I'll buy you another one, Brennen. I need to go clean up."
I flee to the bathroom, leaving a trail of wine drops and confused family members behind me.
In the bathroom, I dab at my dress with paper towels—not because I care about the stain, but because I need to look busy. My hands are shaking. This is going to be a very long day.
When I emerge ten minutes later, the wine stain is a badge of shame on my sage green dress. Perfect.
A man in an expensive suit intercepts me before I can find Miles.
"Ms. Dawson." He extends a hand. "Robert Hartley. WineGlobal Acquisitions. We spoke on the phone last month about Celtic Knot."
The corporate buyer. Of course. Because this day wasn't complicated enough.
"Mr. Hartley." I shake his hand reluctantly. "This isn't really an appropriate time?—"
"I understand you're the deciding vote." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Our offer would set you all up for life. Thirty million dollars for the winery and all assets."
"I'm aware of the offer."
"Then you know this is an opportunity your family can't afford to pass up. Expand locally or go global. The choice seems obvious."
"Is it?"
"Ms. Dawson, your brother Brennen is a talented winemaker, but talent doesn't always translate to business acumen. WineGlobal has the infrastructure to take Celtic Knot to the next level. Without our resources, you're looking at years of struggle for uncertain return."
I study him. Expensive suit, practiced pitch, absolutely zero understanding of what Celtic Knot means to my family.
"Mr. Hartley, this is a family business. Not everything is about maximum profit."
"Everything is about maximum profit. That's basic economics."
"Then we disagree on basics."
"Think about your future, Ms. Dawson. Think about security. Especially now, when—" He pauses, eyes dropping to my wine-stained dress, then back to my face. "—when life changes might make financial security particularly important."
My blood runs cold. Does he know? Can people tell? Am I showing already?
"I need to go examine the terroir implications," I blurt out.
"The what?"
"Terroir. Soil. Drainage. Very important for wine. You should know that Mr. Hartley. Excuse me."
I flee before he can respond, heading outside to the vineyard. The fresh air hits me and I gulp it down, trying to calm my racing heart.
Terroir implications. I told a corporate acquisitions expert I needed to examine terroir implications at a wine exhibition. Inside a building. Where the wine is already made.
I'm losing my mind.
I pull out my phone to text Maggie something work-related and grounding, but instead I see five texts from Brennen.
Brennen:Did you like the wine?
Brennen:Was it bad?
Brennen:Why did you spill it?
