Page 39 of Sherry and Sunflowers
Zia nodded happily. "If the new people aren't the right people for Grandpa Grape and his wine, Prince Daddy will send them away."
Alara could only nod. Her daughter had such absolute faith in Reaves—and he was such a good guy—that she couldn't even feel concerned about it.
She gave her a hug, and Zia kissed her cheek. "I'll see you in a little while, Mom. Have fun with your work."
"I will."
She watched Zia scamper off up the stairs to her room before going into her office and closing the door behind her. She hadn't wanted to tell her daughter that fun didn't come into it. And it was a shame that it didn't, since the work was for Charles, butit was true. She'd always taught Zia that workwasfun—that itshouldbe fun, and if it wasn't, you found the next job that would be.
She sat down at her desk and drew the folder toward her. The trouble was, this was a job that she couldn't and didn't want to move on from just because it wasn't fun. She opened the folder and looked at her designs again. They were… flat. Notbad. She was objective enough to know that they were good. They'd be more than good enough for most projects. But this wasn't just any project. She desperately wanted to produce her best work ever. And that wasn't just ego or gratitude. Charles had made light of it, and Reaves hadn't talked much about it, but Delaney had given the impression that the whole future of the House of St. James was riding on this rebrand.
She traced the grain on the surface of the huge oak desk. There was history here—history, and the legacy of a wonderful man. She turned to stare out the window at the vines. She just needed to figure out how to capture the essence of it in a way that would appeal to buyers.
None of the work she'd done so far, none of the samples she'd produced, captured anything at all. She smiled to herself. She knew she needed a breakthrough, but so far, all her mind was giving her were two extremes—and she knew damn well where they came from.
The steady, dignified fonts and muted color palette were an attempt to capture Charles. But there was so much more to the man than dignified and understated. She peeked at the couple of papers she'd pushed to the back of the folder. No one else needed to see those, but she'd had to experiment. Those were the ones inspired by Zia. Her daughter had brought a sparkle to the place—but it wasn't alien to it, she was sure of that. Zia's glitter had only enhanced the shine that was already here.
She turned to look out the window again. The afternoon seemed to be echoing her thoughts. The green vine covered hills rolled away to the horizon. The sun sparkled back at her, reflected from the roof of a greenhouse. She stared at it for a few moments, wondering about the angle of the roof and how it made the sunlight appear almost gold.
She flipped the folder open again. That was it!Gold.That was what she needed.
She pursed her lips. She might have a fight on her hands with Delaney, but it'd be worth it. What she needed was gold leaf. She could see it now, finally. The answer. It captured both Charles and Zia in one go.
She pushed to her feet, wanting to share her breakthrough. But then she slowly sat back down—there was no one to share it with. She picked up her phone and turned it over a couple of times before setting it back down. Reaves was the only person she would tell. And he was here on the estate. But she couldn't disturb him, not while he was in a meeting.
She folded her arms on the desk and rested her head on them. Just for a moment. It was so much easier to visualize when she closed her eyes.
Even as she had the thought, she knew she was going to fall asleep, and there was nothing she could do about it. Not even the spike of fear that came when she wondered why on earth she was so tired all the time could stop her from drifting off.
~ ~ ~
"Mr. Sterling. Mr. Hartman." Charles shook hands with them. "Thank you for your time, gentlemen. We'll talk again soon, I'm sure. For now, I'll let my son see you out. He can answer any lingering questions you may have."
Reaves gestured for Aaron and Caleb to follow him as he opened the door to let them out of his dad's study. They went ahead of him, and he glanced back at his dad, who gave him a grateful nod as he sank into his armchair.
Reaves had been a much more active participant in the meeting than he'd expected to be. On his way over this morning, he'd thought he was only coming for moral support, but it had become apparent that his dad needed much more than that.
Word traveled fast in Napa, and it seemed everyone already knew about the House of St. James being dropped by their distributor. Jacob and Bentley had each said they’d do whatever they could to help, and Jacob had made good on that offer in an unexpected way this morning. He was one of Sterling Hartman’s biggest clients and had somehow set this meeting up.
When his dad had called him, he'd been as close to flustered as Reaves had ever heard him. Sterling Hartman was a dream distributor, and Charles was ill-equipped to handle an impromptu meeting. Apparently, Aaron had reached out this morning to see if Charles could see them this afternoon before they left town.
He realized he was caught up in his thoughts, and that he should be making the most of the opportunity to spend time with them—hopefully to impress them, if he could—before they departed.
"Did either of you have any more questions?" he asked.
"Not off the top of my head," said Caleb. "I think we've learned all that we need to for now." He frowned. "I have your dad's number, but I don't have yours."
Reaves handed him a business card, hating that the only ones he had declared him a pilot for DuPont Wineries. He decided right then and there that he'd have to get some made up that made clear he was part of the House of St. James.
Caleb pocketed the card without looking, so at least he didn't have to explain right now.
When they reached the top of the steps, outside the front door, Aaron looked around. "This place is just as beautiful as I hoped it would be."
"You hoped?" Reaves couldn't help asking.
"Yeah." He glanced at Caleb. "I probably shouldn't admit this, but House of St. James are my favorite wines…" He pursed his lips. "We've built our business to be one of the biggest."
"And the best," Caleb chimed in.
