Page 100 of Just for Tonight

I try to lose myself in my work instead. Time. The man needs time.

What I need is a good twelve to fourteen hours of steady rain, but the skies are perfectly clear.

I step into our biggest building, the one where the real action is, and wipe the perspiration from my brow. It’s cool in here, between the huge stainless vats on the polished concrete floor, and shady too. They’re already making the juice from the grapes we use for sparkling wines and it smells like crushed fruit. This place offers a good break from the vineyard but not from my concerns. I’ve been checking the growth of the fruit this morning. September is closing fast and the red wine grapes are not where I want them to be.

Sadly, you can’t force fruit to ripen by willpower alone. I’m worried particularly about the Cabernet Franc. It’s a good reliable red for us, but this year, the grapes are still small. You have to be careful with irrigation, not to overdo it and change the flavour of the grapes, but if we don’t get rain in the next forty-eight hours, that’s what I’ll have to do. I’m making notes, marking out the pertinent rows on the wall plan when someone clears their throat.

I spin to find Madison behind me. Sloane is with her. He gestures, communicating ‘I couldn’t stop her’ with a helpless gesture and I nod understanding. He vanishes with relief.

Madison smiles but she looks worried. “Hi,” she says. “You probably don’t remember me but I’m Madison Cavendish and I need a job.”

The youngest sister of Jake’s extended family favours her mom while still showing some of the Cavendish hallmarks. She has long dark hair, almost black in the Cavendish way, but she isn’t tall like Abbie and the three older brothers. She’s shorter and more petite, more similar to Candace. She’s strikingly pretty and very good at ensuring she looks her best, again reminding me of Candace. I have an impression that she’s high maintenance, but that could be a result of Jake’s comments and possibly unfair. Today, she is overdressed for vineyard work in a print sundress, expensive sandals and a showpiece purse. I am keenly aware that I’m not wearing any make-up at all, while she is all done up.

Her sunglasses probably cost more than everything I’m wearing totalled together – and these are good boots.

“Hi Madison,” I reply. “Why do you think there might be a position for you here?”

“I don’t know. I’m asking everywhere. I really need a job.”

There’s a desperation about her and I remember my own comments to Jake. I’ll guess he didn’t know what to do for his half-siblings, or he assumed Candace would do whatever was necessary. I’ve never thought of Candace as particularly maternal, though, and Madison looks lost.

“What can you do?”

Her smile wavers as she looks around, as if seeing the big stainless steel vats for the first time. “I like wine,” she offers. “But I don’t know anything about it. I can count and do inventory. I can carry things and pack boxes.”

“But what do you really want to do?” I ask. If she has a passionate desire to become a sommelier or a vintner, even a shipping clerk, I’ll help her but I don’t think that’s it. I’m a big believer in mentorship, but people succeed when they follow their hearts.

“I don’t know,” she admits and blinks away her tears. “I don’t know but I have to do something!”

She may have been a spoiled little princess, but she’s trying to change that, and she has no tools or resources. It’s not her fault.

I decide to make a difference. I put down the clipboard and usher her toward the one small office. I shut the door, hand her a box of tissues and perch on the desk when she takes the chair.

“It’s all Jake’s fault,” she says through her tears. “Everything has gone wrong, because he took everything away.”

I try to be circumspect. “I heard there wasn’t anything left to give or take.”

“That’s what he said, but he’s a liar.”

“Is he?” She looks at me and I shrug. “Even if he is, isn’t there anything you want to do, anything you’ve always wanted to be?”

She takes a deep breath and runs a hand down the skirt of her dress. “I like clothes.”

“Making them? Designing them?”

“Wearing them. Buying them, Mixing and matching them together.” She gestures in my direction. “I would never give you that shirt to wear, for example.”

I look down at my trusty white button-down and jeans. “I wear this all the time.”

She rolls her eyes. “But you’re fair. A white shirt does nothing for you. You should wear a color, even pale blue chambray would be better than white.” She narrows her eyes, considering me. “Sea green or teal would totally rock. Even chartreuse might work. I’d have to see to be sure. Coral, absolutely. Any pink. But lose the white. Please.”

I hold up a hand even though I’m not convinced. My white shirts are the backbone of my wardrobe and I won’t give them up easily, no matter what she says. They’re classic. “Okay, you like clothes. What kind of job opportunities do you see there?”

“Well, there are no stores in Empire, and the ones in Havelock sell crap. Fast fashion.” She grimaces. “I like the vintage stuff. It’s brilliantly made and well designed.”

“There’s the thrift shop.”

“Full of old things no one would be caught dead wearing.” Her disdain is complete. “No, clothes should give you confidence and make you look your best. Clothes are so important and people just throw on any old thing.” She sighs, bracing herself for an unwilling confession. “Jake is a jerk but he really knows how to dress. I’ll give him that.” She looks down at the balled tissue in her hand. “But there’s no money and I need money. I need a job, Mackenzie, before I can do anything. I thought you might help.”