15.1

“So . . .” I said on a breath, picturing the many, many angry faces I’d have to handle as I explained to the high-end restaurants throughout Napa and the surrounding areas that there’d be no Santa Barbara pinot noir and Syrah, no Paso Robles Rhone blends for a while. This was turning into a pretty awful month for West Wines.

“So, just wanted to let you know.” Lincoln turned and went back around the corner, back to his part time gig in the warehouse. I envied him. Today was one of the days I didn’t want to be in charge, didn’t want to try to carry the world on my shoulders.

I slumped over my arms, trying to regain my footing. I needed to think. What would Dad do? He was always coming up with on-the-spot solutions for crises when he was running things.

But my brain didn’t seem to want to work.

I kept picturing El, walking away with Chad. Or seeing her face as she told me she was falling for me, but still walked away seconds later. I felt empty and drained, exhausted and hollow. I didn’t