“And no matter how hard you’ve pushed, no matter how educated you are, or how much you can bring to the table, they’re not letting you in.”
Emma sat up in bed and rested her hands in her lap. “I’m not asking for that anymore.”
“I can still see the disappointment in your eyes. I’m afraid that the need to ‘get back’ and ‘show them’ is driving you most. Pretend for a moment that this winery didn’t happen. Hear what Diane was throwing down and surround yourself with people who support you and what you want to do with your life. Heed what Barbara said and find some balance. Don’t become your father, who is obsessed with acquiring more instead of enjoying what he has.”
“I only want my piece of the pie. I don’t have to own it all.”
Nicole tucked her legs under her. “We’ve been here for almost a week. I think you’ve been having a good time. But the other night, when you and Gio were going at it, wine for wine . . . you were on fire. Sassy, competitive without being a bitch. Laughing . . . flirting. I haven’t seen that in forever. And last night, when you got in, you were practically glowing and yet you had every reason to be pissed. Luggage is all screwed up, completely rained out . . . you’ve spent a crap-ton of money on clothes you weren’t expecting to buy. Long road trip, on a hangover, no less. But did you complain about any of that? No. You were all smiles and ‘Gio said this, and Giovanni said that . . . and did you see the suitcase?’ Compare that to every time we’ve stopped at a winery and you’ve compared it to R&R. You bring up the scale of the winery and family history. Which always makes you frown.”
Nicole wasn’t wrong. “I haven’t meant to be a downer.”
“You’re not. I get it. Your dad did a douche thing and it’s had a tidal wave of emotions and what-ifs. Let that go. Put your dad and everything R&R behind you. Surround yourself with people that make you smile and laugh. That support you emotionally.”
Emma smiled. “Like you.”
“Duh . . . and people like Gio.”
“The man is looking for a wife.”
“I didn’t tell you to marry him. I suggested you spend time with him. When was the last time you even went on a date?”
Emma rolled her eyes. Had no intention of answering that question.
“Exactly,” Nicole said. “Gio is fun. Carefree.”
“And not nearly high enough on the social level that my father would approve.”
Nicole tossed her hands in the air. “Who cares? Fuck him. He approved of Kyle and look how that worked out. Besides, your dad never has to meet Gio, or anyone you want in your life.” Nicole moved to the side of Emma’s bed. “You don’t have to impress your dad or answer to him. I’ve heard you these past weeks. Going over all the ‘what-ifs’ of how your dad is going to swing this. Will he sell it to you? Will you accept a ‘partner’ deal? You can bust your ass to make something out of bare bones for who, you? Your dad? Will he show you more respect then?” Nicole held up her hand. “And before you answer that, let me . . . yes! You would do exactly that. And ten years from now, or five, you’ll still be unsatisfied with how Daddy treats you. Not to mention you’d still be working for him. You could walk away now. You could say ‘no thanks’ and continue your day job. Or, even better, quit working for Dad and find another organization that would value your worth. Because, Emma . . . your dad doesn’t value your worth and I know you know that.”
Emma was breathing heavy with Nicole’s monologue. Her words sunk in like a slow drip from a stalactite to a stalagmite. Each drop important for growth. Much as Emma hated to admit it, she had wondered how she would react to a “negotiation” her father would ultimately throw at her. Her last message to her mother, since contacting her father, was not getting her anywhere, so Emma had thrown out numbers of what the property was worth to try and negotiate a price.
That met with crickets.
Emma wanted to pay for it.
Her mother wanted it to be given as a gift.
And good ole Daddy hadn’t responded.
“You’re right.” Emma kicked the covers off her bed and reached for her phone, which was plugged in and sitting on the nightstand.
“Who are you calling?”
“My mother.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Five fifteen the next evening, just minutes before the entire group loaded onto the bus from a pit stop to drive to their next destination, Emma’s phone rang.
It was her father’s secretary.
“It’s my dad,” Emma said to Nicole.
“Oh, snap.”
Emma walked a few steps away from the group to talk without interruption.
“This is Emma,” she answered the phone.
“Hello, Ms. Rutledge, it’s Kerry.” Ms. . . . the only people that referred to her as Ms. were at the office. Emma hadn’t taken Kyle’s last name, never had a desire to.
“Hello, Kerry.”
“Your father is on the line. Please hold.”
Not “Is this a good time? Your father would like to speak with you” . . . just “Please hold.”
A full minute went by before he picked up the call. “Emma?”
“Hello, Father.”
“I understand you’re trying to get ahold of me.”
Emma swallowed. “I don’t think Mom needs to be the only one talking to you about this house.”
“I’m sure she told you that I agreed with you moving in.”
“She did.” Emma’s heartbeat picked up its pace. “But . . . I need to know what your intentions are. I’m not looking for a roof over my head, I want to turn this property around to become self-sustainable. And I’m willing to pay you for it.”
Her father released a short laugh. One that said he didn’t like what he heard. “You made that known. The lawyers are working on the best way to go about this. You should know that isn’t something I’d do personally.”
“You would direct your lawyers on what to do.”
“Sometimes what I want to do and what can be done are two different things. Something you should know before you jump into a game you hardly understand.”
She really didn’t want to get into a pissing match with her dad over the phone. “I think we can both agree that the time for an internship at your side has passed us by. I’ve learned a lot about this business simply by having your name and growing up the way I did. I’m willing to learn the rest . . . on my own if need be.”
Robert was silent. “Like I said. My lawyers are working out the details.”
As frustrating as his answer was, at least there was no doubt of her intentions. “Once they have something figured out, have them send me the details. I’d like to know if I’m packing the moment I’m home, or if I’m hiring realtors in Napa or Temecula.”
“That won’t be necessary, Emma. Your mother has already hired a contractor who is busting out a wall in the house this week.”
Emma tried not to let a smile cross her face . . . she failed.
More of their group crowded around the bus, catching her attention. “Have you already replaced me in my position?”