2 Crushed by Barbara Ellen Brink Page B

them gently together. The ting of Crystal reverberated softly and then
they drank, eyes locked over cold candles. She watched him expectantly. Was he
missing something? He licked his lips and took another sip.
    “Wow, this is really great wine. Is
it from Fredrickson’s?”
    “No.” She smiled, clearly pleased
that he liked it. “It’s mine.”
    “Yours? What do you mean?”
    “Did you think your sister is the
only woman who knows how to make wine? I’ve been bottling my own for a few
years now. I just sell it locally by word of mouth. Handel’s friend, Carl, buys
most of it for his restaurant. Handel calls it my hobby, but it’s really my
passion. I love to experiment, try new things. This year’s crop looks amazing.
I’m pretty sure it will be the best batch ever.” She served a steak and potato
on each of their plates. Offered him butter and sour cream.
    “I hope Fredrickson’s can say the
same. Mario seemed pleased when we sampled the grapes today.”
    “He should be. They look good.”
    “Been checking out the
competition?” he asked. He cut into his steak and took a bite, savoring the
smoky, beef flavor. It was perfectly pink inside and nicely blackened on the
outside. Excellent.
    “Fredrickson’s has never been
competition. I grew up here. I don’t know if you heard, but my grandfather once
owned the winery. Handel and I still feel part of it. Our DNA is in that soil,
sprouts up in those vines each year, and is now bottled under the Fredrickson
label.”
    “Very evocative picture you paint
there.”
    “Perhaps. It’s the way I feel.” She
took a bite of steak and chewed thoughtfully. “I always felt that someday the
winery would be ours again, because it’s in our blood. But Handel really
doesn’t have a desire to get into the business. He’s good at what he does. Law.
I, on the other hand, have always longed for what I couldn’t have.”
    “So, if you were given the chance
to oversee the winemaking over there and help turn things around, would you
jump at it, or are you waiting for my sister to go bankrupt so you can pick it
up for a pittance and get it back under the Parker name?”
    She took a sip of wine and watched
him over the rim of her glass. “None of this land will ever go for a pittance.
As small as Fredrickson’s is, it’s worth millions.” She laughed at his shocked
expression. “You didn’t know your sister was considered a millionaire?”
    “I never really thought about it
that way.”
    “Probably wise. Easy come, easy go.
So tell me,” she said, assuming a bland expression, “how do you make a small
fortune in the wine business?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “You start with a large fortune and
buy a winery.” She picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses. “Sorry.
That’s a lame joke every vintner in the valley has probably heard and repeated
a thousand times. But sadly, it’s true. This business is not just about money.
It has to be in your blood. You have to love everything about it, or you might
as well sell out and go home.”
    “Does that mean you’ll take the job
working for Billie, or are you waiting for her to go home?”
    Her eyes widened and she set her
glass down with a slight thunk, sloshing wine over the rim. “You’re serious?”
she said, wiping it up with a napkin.
    “As serious as a monk in a
monastery.”
    “She really wants me? She thinks I
can do the job?”
    “You’ll have to convince her of
that. But she’s willing to give you a try. She told me to ask you to come by
tomorrow about ten and set things in motion.”
    A smile spread across her face, but
her eyes glistened with tears on the verge of overflowing. She got up and
started clearing dishes, as though to distract herself from feeling.
    “Are you all right?” he asked,
handing her the empty platter and his iced tea glass, hoping she’d realize he
was still working on his steak and not ready to relinquish it into her hands.
He cut another bite and jammed