I pin my gaze on Anderson. All the longing from earlier is gone, and instead, rage begins to simmer beneath my skin.
“This place has been here for decades. The least we can do for the workers is guarantee they can keep their jobs.” I look over at Luca. “Not everyone has a rich brother to take them in if something happens. I don’t want to be a part of dismantling people’s lives.”
He winces, and it’s clear he agrees with me.
“There are never any guarantees in life,” Anderson replies.
I grip the edge of the table until my knuckles turn white. “You can’t be serious.”
Anderson averts his gaze as he scans the menu. “It’s business, Natalia.”
I’m fuming when an elderly man walks up to the table, nodding to each of us before sitting. My heart clenches.
“Mr. Roseblanc, so nice to finally meet you,” Luca gushes. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get to the numbers,” he answers with a wry smile. “I don’t want to sell this place, but if I have to, I want to be sure it goes to the right people. Not some company that will mass produce two-buck chuck.” He turns to me. “Know what I mean?”
Mr. Roseblanc must be at least eighty, but he has a twinkle in his eye that tells me he’s not usually so serious.
“I know exactly what you mean,” I blurt. Our eyes meet, and I give him my best at-ease smile. If Luca and Anderson are actually going to pull the rug out from under this place, I want to be sure I can lessen the blow somehow.
The men talk numbers while I sip my wine, trying not to look at the nervous staff, or the fact that most of them are older, distinguished. Like they’ve been doing this for years, which they probably have. By the time our lunch arrives, I’m feeling light and dizzy from the wine—too much alcohol on an empty stomach.
Which is never, ever a good thing.
Mr. Roseblanc looks at me. “I wish I had someone like you to help drive business.”
I smile sweetly. “That’s very kind of you.”
He nods and looks off into the distance. “My father bought this land when he was eighteen. It was after the war—the first one. The land around here was cheap, and rumor was that it was ripe for wine. I grew up in that house,” he adds, pointing to an adorable little cottage hidden in the vineyard. “My kids grew up here. My whole life is this winery. But I can’t seem to get people in the way I used to.”
The word vomit begins to creep up my throat. I’m about to blow the deal. There’s no way we can take on this project, no way we can be the reason he has to sell his beloved winery.
“Mr. Roseblanc, I really appreciate you taking this meeting with us, but I’m not sure Gather is a good fit.”
Luca looks away and mutters some expletive, while Anderson stiffens at the same time. It seems to shock Mr. Roseblanc as well, because he raises his eyebrows and an open mouth.
“Oh?”
I look at Luca apologetically, ignoring Anderson completely. Luca only gives me a quick nod. Anderson snaps his head toward Luca, fuming.
“This place deserves more than a random health food store looking for land and mature vines. We’ve never made wine before. It’s not really our brand. We came today to discuss potentially purchasing Roseblanc Winery, and I think I speak for both my brother and Anderson when I say… you deserve better.”
His eyebrows stay up, and he looks among the three of us. “At least you’re honest, and I appreciate that.”
I smile and nod. “You should sell your beloved winery to someone who will maintain the integrity. Someone who will take care of your family name, your family business.” I stand up. “Thank you for meeting us, and I apologize for wasting your time like this.”
Mr. Roseblanc stands, too, suddenly grabbing my hand. “Ms. Rossi, I don’t know you very well, but you have principle, and I like that about you. Seems like most people don’t even know what that is anymore.” He looks at Anderson. “Don’t let this one go. She’s the heart of your business.” He turns to walk away, and then stops, facing us again. “I will be sure to tell the new owners that you’ll never have to pay a cent here should you ever come back and stay longer. Enjoy your lunch. I’ll have Belinda package up some wine for all of you. And I can’t thank you enough, Ms. Rossi.”
He turns and walks away, and I watch him as he shuffles off—mostly so that I don’t have to look at either Luca or Anderson just yet. Luca will forgive me eventually—wearetwins—but I’m not so sure about Anderson. I’m about to turn around when I see Anderson stalk off in the opposite direction. I turn to face Luca, who shrugs.
“I understand why you said what you said,” he remarks. “Do I think it would’ve been nice to keep the option on the table? Sure.” I wince at his words. “Like I said, this was Anderson’s idea—his big proposal when he came to work for me. I was never attached to the idea of alcohol. We’re a health food company, for god’s sake. But you’re going to have a hell of a time explaining your actions to that one.” He juts his chin in the direction Anderson went.
I square my shoulders. “Give us a few minutes.”
Luca smiles knowingly, a sly little smirk on his lips. “Of course.”
25
