“I’ve seen the movies. You Sicilians scare me.”
The look he gave me had nothing to do with business. “We should.”
If I leaned forward, moved closer, he would kiss me. Or I could easily kiss him. There was no doubt in my mind. And man, did I want that.
“Do you believe me?” he asked finally.
“That you wouldn’t betray my trust?” It was a ridiculous thing, even considering trusting this guy. Showed my naivité and lack of lesson learning from law school and in practice. But I was me and couldn’t really be anyone else.
“I do,” I answered, knowing it was stupid to trust him.
“Good. So let me put your mind at ease. Every single person in Grado Valley and anywhere within a sixty-mile radius of Kitchi Falls knows Jerry Reed is an asshole. That’s not a huge revelation.”
“I know,” I admitted. “But for me to say it out loud...it’s different. If I take my father’s share, he’ll be my business partner. And do I really want to work for a guy like that?”
“Work for him? You’d be partners.”
“He owns more shares,” I admitted.
Marco expelled a breath. That gave him pause. “I see,” he said, frowning. “Well, there’s ways around that.”
“Such as?”
“Buy him out.”
I would have laughed, but he looked deadly serious. “Are you kidding me? I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Borrow it.”
“He’d never sell. The whole thing was his idea.”
“Then make it his idea to want to dump it.”
I had him trapped. “And that’s the exact kind of mind manipulation that has me sitting here, sharing dinner, Even though I had zero plans to do so.” I could see someone walking down toward the docks on the lighted path. Must be from Casa Bella.
“Looks like dinner has arrived. I am starved,” I admitted.
Marco didn’t look toward the path. Instead, he caught my eye and said, deadpan, “Me too.”
FIFTEEN
marco
The last personI expected to see this morning was my father. As I walked into the Wine Cellar and made my way toward the tasting counter where Neo was working, my dad stood next to him looking over his shoulder.
“Just in time,” he said as if being here during our Monday morning meeting was a regular thing.
“Uh, Dad,” I said. “I think you’re forgetting something.”
Picking up his coffee mug, he looked innocently at me. A carbon copy of Cos, albeit older with salt and pepper hair, he played the part of vineyard owner well. Except, he wasn’t. Last year when they retired my mother made one thing clear—Dad was not to work. No meetings. No behind the bar of the tasting room. For someone who was having a really hard time letting go, he needed a clean break.
Eventually, he did. An extended trip to Italy with Mom helped. As did our regular Wednesday get togethers with the family and Grado VIPs which my parents showed up to periodically. But that was different.
“That I’m retired?” he asked dryly.
“Exactly.”
Neo looked up. Which is when I knew what they were looking at on Neo’s laptop.