“Two of you here. I didn’t know Helia had it in her. Can’t hardly blame her, though,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.
Monk straightened, crossing his arms and fixing Kelly with a hard look at her implication. Neither the content nor the timing even remotely appropriate.
“Can I help you, Ms.…?”
“Call me Kelly,” she said, flashing him a smile he’d seen on dozens of women looking to add a notch to their bedpost. Between that look and her comment about Helia, it cost her a client. The Falcons had plenty of experience with web design and social media; they didn’t need her.
He stared, waiting to see what she’d say. “I’m the social media manager for Bacco,” she started. “You’ve probably heard of me.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Anyway, Trish Peterson mentioned you were here. You met her a few nights ago with Helia at that taco place in town.” Again, he didn’t respond. Her brows dipped, but she carried on. “I thought I’d stop by and see if you were planning to reopen the tasting room for the holidays and discuss what updates we should publish.”
He shook his head. “No updates. The tasting room will stay closed until mid-January as planned.” He wanted to change the login and passwords to the backend of the site before firing her.
She frowned. “This is a big time of year. You’re losing business.”
It wasn’t, not really. Sure, the valley saw a bump in tourism the few weeks around Christmas and New Year’s when folks took vacations, but it was hardly booming. Clyde had sent him enough of the financials for him to figure that out.
“The winery can afford it,” he replied. Besides, he wasn’t about to call employees back in. By now, several probably had other temp jobs for the month, or had planned vacations, or were simply enjoying the downtime.
“Really, you’re missing out. You could throw an impromptu New Year’s party or celebrate your dad’s life with some big event. He would have liked that. Would have liked people raising a glass or ten in his name.”
If he hadn’t already decided to fire her, the familiar way she spoke about Roger would have made the decision for him.
“Not interested. I’ll let you know if anything comes up that needs your attention,” he said, setting his hand on the door.
“How about a cup of coffee, and we can discuss some spring changes?” She inched closer.
He narrowed his eyes. She stepped back.
“Right,” she said. “Do you mind if I peek into the other office? Not Gretchen’s but the one beside it? I was here a few days before your dad died, and I think my earbuds fell out of my purse. Lipstick, or my compact, I wouldn’t care, but they’re the expensive ones. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here and had resigned myself to waiting a month, but then I heard about you.”
“I’ll look and let you know if I find them.” No way in hell was he going to allow her inside.
“They’re small. You might miss them.”
“I’m thorough,” he replied, opening the door. “I’ll let you know.” He stepped inside, shutting the door with a definitive click. Turning his back on her, he pulled out his phone as he walked toward Gretchen’s office. A fish-eye view of Kelly lingering on the porch filled his screen through the security app, her narrowed eyes and tight jaw absent any sort of come-hither look.
He paused at the office door, wanting to make sure she left. Ten seconds passed before she stomped off the porch.
“I’ll make sure she leaves,” Dulcie said, stepping out of the business office. “You should go in and talk to Gretchen. I think you’re going to need her.”
With that cryptic statement, he entered the room to find her sitting behind the desk, computer booted up, her glasses perched on the top of her head, and her body leaning forward.
“What do you know about your father?” she asked, not looking up.
“Nothing in the past seventeen years. More than I ever wanted to in the eighteen prior to that.”
She sat back, assessing him again. “I looked into you when I learned Roger had a son.” He decided it was prudent to stay silent. “You and your friends run quite a few businesses.”
“Seven.” He was proud of what they’d built.
“What’s your employee turnover?”
He blinked. Not a question he expected. “Next to none, considering the business models.”
“And considering you help people escape abusive situations and, if they want, give them jobs until they feel comfortable moving on?”
He sat. “You’ve done your homework.” The work he and his brothers did to help people who needed a hand wasn’t common knowledge.
“Petra Green.”
