Read Online Seduce Me Sweetly (Heron's Landing Book 1) by Iris Morland - Free Book Online
Authors: Iris Morland
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delicate petals scattered across the ground, a small hope crushed. Bending down, Adam fingered a few of the waterlogged buds, breathing through his nose in an attempt to calm his pounding heart.
No one said anything. What was there to say? Everyone knew what this would mean for the harvest. No buds meant no grapes meant no wine. Some of the hardiest buds had managed to hang on, but there was so little white remaining on the vines that Adam didn’t know how the harvest could be salvaged.
Jaime came to stand by him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly.
Adam had to restrain himself from snapping back. But he knew his friend meant well, and that he’d do anything to help River’s Bend and Adam. Standing up, he replied, “I guess we’ll have to, won’t we?”
Leah, a middle-aged woman who did the wine-tasting classes part-time, walked along the rows of vines, clicking her tongue. A small-statured woman with a sharp tongue, she generally considered any event like this one of God’s divine retribution. Devoted to the church, she’d never married, but preferred to read her Bible and come out to Heron’s Landing to show unsuspecting tourists how they had no idea how to drink and appreciate wine properly. Today, though, she said nothing, and Adam knew that that wasn’t a good sign. Leah always had an opinion.
The day was sticky with humidity, and he slapped a mosquito off of his arm. Continuing to wander along the rows, he found one length of vine that was mostly intact. It was a small hope, in the grand scheme of things, but seeing those white buds bursting from the vines felt like the greatest of victories. At least there was something. At least they could harvest a few grapes. It wouldn’t be nearly enough, but Adam was determined not to despair entirely.
Later inside, closeted with his employees, Adam went over their options. “As you all could see for yourselves, the weather this year has not been kind to us. Without buds, there are no grapes. And you already know what that means. If this had been just this year, we could’ve salvaged things.” He swallowed, thinking about the previous two years of bad harvest. His temples throbbed, and he wished he could go home and drink until all of his worries faded away in a haze of liquor.
The employees present were only a handful—Kerry, Jaime, Leah, and Chris, who was the overseer of the harvesters come the fall. But they made up a hard-working, bright group of people, and Adam was glad that he had them to rely upon.
“Do we have any idea how much the harvest will actually yield?” Chris asked. A man close to Adam’s father’s age, Chris had salt-and-pepper hair with a neatly trimmed beard. His skin was the tanned skin of a man often out in the sun, although his wife had been bugging him about wearing more sunscreen as of late. After reading about the depletion of the ozone layer, she’d been scared to death that Chris would develop melanoma; Chris, for his part, preferred to ignore his wife’s arguments and do as he pleased.
Adam shook his head at Chris’s comment. “We’ll have to wait and see how many of the buds turn into actual grapes. But I can say that the harvest will have been depleted by two-thirds, just by looking at the vines.”
The group inhaled all at once at the number. They glanced around at each other before Kerry spoke, her voice tentative. “So the harvest is bad. What about doing events, like we’d discussed before?”
Leah glared at Kerry—she wasn’t fond of events like Adam—while Chris scratched at his chin. Jaime, undeterred, said, “It sounds like that’s our only option now. We’re not bringing in the revenue in the restaurant itself, we’re not bringing in the revenue from the wine-tasting classes—sorry, Leah, but it’s true—and now that we aren’t going to be selling as much wine, we need some other source. Simple as that.”
Adam gritted his teeth. Jaime was right, and
No one said anything. What was there to say? Everyone knew what this would mean for the harvest. No buds meant no grapes meant no wine. Some of the hardiest buds had managed to hang on, but there was so little white remaining on the vines that Adam didn’t know how the harvest could be salvaged.
Jaime came to stand by him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out,” he said quietly.
Adam had to restrain himself from snapping back. But he knew his friend meant well, and that he’d do anything to help River’s Bend and Adam. Standing up, he replied, “I guess we’ll have to, won’t we?”
Leah, a middle-aged woman who did the wine-tasting classes part-time, walked along the rows of vines, clicking her tongue. A small-statured woman with a sharp tongue, she generally considered any event like this one of God’s divine retribution. Devoted to the church, she’d never married, but preferred to read her Bible and come out to Heron’s Landing to show unsuspecting tourists how they had no idea how to drink and appreciate wine properly. Today, though, she said nothing, and Adam knew that that wasn’t a good sign. Leah always had an opinion.
The day was sticky with humidity, and he slapped a mosquito off of his arm. Continuing to wander along the rows, he found one length of vine that was mostly intact. It was a small hope, in the grand scheme of things, but seeing those white buds bursting from the vines felt like the greatest of victories. At least there was something. At least they could harvest a few grapes. It wouldn’t be nearly enough, but Adam was determined not to despair entirely.
Later inside, closeted with his employees, Adam went over their options. “As you all could see for yourselves, the weather this year has not been kind to us. Without buds, there are no grapes. And you already know what that means. If this had been just this year, we could’ve salvaged things.” He swallowed, thinking about the previous two years of bad harvest. His temples throbbed, and he wished he could go home and drink until all of his worries faded away in a haze of liquor.
The employees present were only a handful—Kerry, Jaime, Leah, and Chris, who was the overseer of the harvesters come the fall. But they made up a hard-working, bright group of people, and Adam was glad that he had them to rely upon.
“Do we have any idea how much the harvest will actually yield?” Chris asked. A man close to Adam’s father’s age, Chris had salt-and-pepper hair with a neatly trimmed beard. His skin was the tanned skin of a man often out in the sun, although his wife had been bugging him about wearing more sunscreen as of late. After reading about the depletion of the ozone layer, she’d been scared to death that Chris would develop melanoma; Chris, for his part, preferred to ignore his wife’s arguments and do as he pleased.
Adam shook his head at Chris’s comment. “We’ll have to wait and see how many of the buds turn into actual grapes. But I can say that the harvest will have been depleted by two-thirds, just by looking at the vines.”
The group inhaled all at once at the number. They glanced around at each other before Kerry spoke, her voice tentative. “So the harvest is bad. What about doing events, like we’d discussed before?”
Leah glared at Kerry—she wasn’t fond of events like Adam—while Chris scratched at his chin. Jaime, undeterred, said, “It sounds like that’s our only option now. We’re not bringing in the revenue in the restaurant itself, we’re not bringing in the revenue from the wine-tasting classes—sorry, Leah, but it’s true—and now that we aren’t going to be selling as much wine, we need some other source. Simple as that.”
Adam gritted his teeth. Jaime was right, and
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