Twice in a Blue Moon by Laura Drake

plan.” He wrote WINE at the top of the first column. “Last year’s product has faults.” He pointed the marker at Indigo. “Not flaws. You’ll learn in the wine chemistry book I loaned you that faults are repairable. Flaws go down the sewer.” He wrote the first bullet point. “Our merlot is not acidic enough, the Chardonnay is too acidic. Thankfully it’s in the final racking stage and not yet bottled. I can fix this in a day. We’ll add more items to this list, but this is the most time-critical.”
    He moved to the second column and wrote VINES at the top. “We need to aerate the soil and fertilize. Like, yesterday.” He wrote the bullet point. “I haven’t found any fungus, but we have to keep a close eye on the humidity and the water content of the soil. But first, there’s the cleanup we talked about the other day.” She scribbled more notes. “This should already have been done, and we have no vineyard rats.”
    â€œAt least there’s
some
good news.” She shuddered. “I hate rodents.”
    He covered a smile with his strict teacher’s glare. “Those are employees. We call the vineyard workers rats.”
    â€œOh.” She frowned. “And I suppose we have to pay that species?”
    He turned back to label his third column, RETAIL. “Sales are down. We’ll need a marketing plan and an advertising budget.”
    She leaned forward in the chair and propped her forearms on the paper-strewn desk. “That’s something I
can
do.”
    He lifted an eyebrow. “Marketing or a budget?”
    â€œBoth.” She didn’t buff her fingernails on her shirt, but the pride in her voice was the equivalent.
    A Hollywood showcase wife/marketing exec/accountant?
Either she was delusional, or there was more to Indigo Blue than could be found in a Tinseltown gossip rag.
    â€œI’ll rough out a budget, Danovan, but I’ll need your requirements for the first two columns.” She closed her notebook. “That’ll determine my budget for the last column.”
    â€œWhat do you say we circle back this afternoon? I’ll do some research and have the numbers for you then.”
    â€œSounds like a plan.” She stood, eyes on the marker board. “I’ll see you later.”
    * * *
    I NDIGO KEPT HER head up walking out, but once out of view of Danovan’s glass-fronted office, her feet slowed, dragging cement blocks of hopelessness. She remembered driving here, going north along the coast, envisioning walking amid the sun-kissed vines, wearing gardening gloves, a floppy hat and a swingy skirt, a wicker basket over her arm.
    How naïve she’d been.
    Well, I’ll just have to learn faster.
She forced her spine straight.
It’s important for the owner to project confidence.
    She traversed the barrel room. At least here there were signs of progress. Through the window-wall she could see the tasting room; clean, light and airy, the high wood-beamed ceiling and slate floor gave a welcoming look.
    We have customers!
Her step lightened. She pushed open the door. An older couple stood at the bar, heads bent, listening to Natalie while sampling wines. A bright flash of color on the porch caught her eye. A group of spandex-clad bicyclists sprawled in the chairs on the porch, laughing and talking.
There must be fifteen of them!
Her smile started in her chest and rose to her mouth.
    Sondra slipped from behind the bar and glided over.
    Indigo even smiled at her. “Well, it’s a start, no?”
    Sondra gave her a condescending look. “Two customers hardly constitute a start.”
    â€œBut...” Indigo pointed to the porch.
    â€œThey’re not customers. They’re resting from their ride. Bicyclists drink Gatorade, not wine.” Sondra had turned releasing a long-suffering sigh into an art form. She put a hand on her waist. “What do you plan to do about this?