by SJ McCoy
Grant stared at her for a long moment. He wasn’t thinking she was crazy. He was thinking that they lived in a crazy world, where her way of thinking was seen as wrong. He didn’t know what to say, though.
She smiled. “Sorry. I don’t expect you to understand. Why don’t we just get on with what we’re supposed to do? You tell me what you’ve seen so far, and tell me all the cuts my father will be happy to hear that we could make.”
He continued to stare at her for a few moments. Part of him wanted to forget all of that and instead ask her to lay out her plan. But he came to his senses. “Okay.” He pulled his laptop out of his briefcase and set it on the table. She came around the desk and pulled up a chair beside him. Just what he hadn’t wanted. She was too close; she smelled too good. He turned his head slightly and noticed that her cheeks were pink—she felt it too, he knew she did.
~ ~ ~
Chelsea forced herself to stare at the screen. She couldn’t allow herself to be affected by him. For the next hour and a half, he talked her through all his findings. Even though she didn’t agree with them, she could see that he’d been thorough. He’d identified a whole bunch of cost savings they could make, just in his first few days here. Some of his ideas would be useful to her, most of them wouldn’t. It might be true that they could cut three salaries from the distribution team and two from sales. It might be more efficient if they worked his way. But what he wasn’t taking into account was that those salaries weren’t just numbers to her. They were the livelihoods of people she cared about. Okay, so José in distribution might be slow, in most senses, but he did the best he could. She was much happier knowing that his wage was supporting him and his family than she would be if she could show that much extra as profit at the end of the year. No way would seeing an extra profit of forty-five thousand dollars mean anything at all to her if it meant that Sally in sales no longer had a job. Chelsea did her best to accept that in business, profit was king, but she truly didn’t understand why. The satisfaction she got from knowing that she provided employment for a single mom of three teenaged boys was worth so much more to her than any extra zeros on the profit line could ever be.
When they finally stopped for a break, Grant got up to stretch his legs and went to stare out the window. “Is there any point continuing?” he asked. He didn’t sound angry, more like resigned.
“We could. I know you’re making sense.” She gave him a weak smile. “I know Dad will love all of your proposals and think you’re awesome.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “But you don’t.”
“I do think you’re awesome.” Oops. She’d said it before she could stop herself.
The smile on his face was almost enough to make her not regret it. “But not in a business sense?”
She blew out a sigh. “No.”
“Can I tell you a story?”
She gave him a puzzled look, wondering where he was going with this.
“It’s about my grandad. When I was a kid, he owned a winery, right here in Napa.”
“He did? What was it called?”
“Dawson Dale Winery.”
“Oh, wow. I’ve heard of it. There are a bunch of articles about Dawson Dale wines. They were amazing.”
Grant nodded sadly. “They were. However, my grandad was not an amazing businessman. He came here to follow his dream. He wanted to make great wines, and he had a soft heart. Not unlike someone else I know.”
Chelsea smiled.
“He made great wines. He took care of his staff—while he could. What he couldn’t do was make it last. He lost the place. Went bankrupt, watched his dream turn to ashes. I’d hate to think that could happen to you.”
She wanted to be angry, wanted to tell him she wasn’t stupid, that she wouldn’t go bankrupt, but she didn’t want to imply that his grandfather had been stupid. “I don’t either,” she said eventually. “But I’ll always have so many people breathing down my neck—my dad, Cameron—that I don’t think I could go under if I deliberately set out to.”
Grant blew out a sigh and turned back to the window. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought it up.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I’m glad you did. Is that why you’re the way you are?”
He turned back around, looking puzzled. “What way am I?”
She smiled. “So uptight. So concerned about the bottom line.” She hesitated. “So unadventurous.”
He laughed. “You think I’m unadventurous?”
Her cheeks flushed. She certainly wouldn’t have accused him of that last weekend! “No, I …”
He smiled through pursed lips. “Even if we just stick to business, I’m not unadventurous. I just prefer to be realistic. I’d love to own a winery, make great wines.” He smiled at her. “I’d even love to hire a staff to help me run the place and to take great care of them, but I need to know the long-term feasibility first. I need to know the bottom line so that I can stay above it and hopefully improve on it. I suppose the answer to your question is yes; it’s because my grandad failed that I think the way I do. That I chose the career I did. Most people see me as the axeman. I see myself as a master gardener. I come into a company and prune off deadwood, in order to ensure growth. I don’t mind getting rid of the deadwood, be it in operations or staff, in order to ensure the overall long-term health of a company. My grandad took better care of his employees than he did of himself. I know you don’t see the attraction in making money just for yourself, but you have to. It’s like they say on an airplane, ‘Make sure you put your own oxygen mask on first before you try to help anyone else.’”
Chelsea nodded. “I can see the sense in that.”
“Sure, but can you translate it and apply it to your business?”
“I think so.”
He gave her a hard stare. “Do you really?”
“What are you getting at?” She could tell he was leading up to something, she just didn’t know what.
“I’m getting at the quarterly bonuses you pay everyone.”
“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. That had been a bone of contention between her and her dad ever since she’d set it up. “They earn it.”
Grant folded his arms across his chest. “I agree. You have a great staff. They work hard, they’re dedicated, they’re exceptionally loyal—though whether that’s to you or to your generosity …”
Chelsea put her hands on her hips. “Don’t think you’re going to upset me. I’m not stupid. I don’t think they work so hard just because they love me. They do it for the bonus. It’s an incentive and a reward which they earn.”
Grant nodded. “It’s crazy, is what it is. Don’t get me wrong, an incentive program, a bonus, can be a great motivator, but the way you’re running it? That’s what’s crazy.”
She stared at him angrily. How dare he call her crazy?
“Don’t look at me like that. If I’m wrong, tell me this, did José earn his bonus last quarter?”
She glared at him. Why did he have to pick on José?
“Well, did he?”
“Not in the traditional sense, no, but he did his best and …”
“And his best wasn’t good enough to get the job done, was it?”
She sighed. José had screwed up and lost one of their biggest distributors a couple of months ago. It hadn’t been his fault, though. “No.”
“But he still got his bonus, right?”
She nodded.
“And so, you just removed the incentive from it. They know they don’t need to give it their all to get their bonus.”
“But they do!”
Grant shook his head. “Even if we don’t argue that point any further, let’s just look at the amount you pay as a bonus. That really is crazy.”
She started to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her.
“Let’s be honest about this. Even if I subscribe to your theory that company profits don’t need to be so outrageous,
I still can’t accept what you’re doing. You’re not talking about having hundreds of thousands left over to just sit in the bank. What you’re doing is taking away reinvestment opportunities. You’re stinting potential growth of the company.”
She frowned, but she kind of knew what he meant.
“If you think long-term, are you really doing your employees a service by giving them money that could be reinvested into growing the company?”
She glowered at him, but didn’t say anything.
“Do you think José would rather have his bonus and then lose his job when you go broke, or miss out on his bonus because you used that money instead to strengthen the business?”
She made a face. “You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?”
“I’d like you to. You see, the way you’re running things looks like you’re only focused on the short-term.”
She blew out a sigh. “Okay, okay. I get it, but I really do want to take care of them. It’s important to me.”
“I know that, and don’t get me wrong, I admire it, but you need to be smart about it. You’re not going to take very good care of them if you get them used to having a decent income and then leave them with no income at all because you can’t afford to keep Zosca going.”
“I get it. So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that’s why I want to go through my second set of recommendations. The ones I’d make if you do decide to go out on your own.”
She pursed her lips. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m really not trying to be an asshole.”
She looked up into his eyes. She already knew that. He wasn’t an asshole. He was a good guy. “Where do you want to start then?”
“Like I said. I think we should start with the normal recommendations I would make at this point. The ones your father wants to hear, and you don’t.”
She made a face.
“I know you’re not going to like them, but I’m hoping that after hearing these, then what I have to say about you going out on your own will seem much less harsh.”
She had to smile. “You mean you’re trying to soften the blow?”
“I don’t want there to be a blow at all. I want to guide you so that you can make the best decisions possible. I’d love to see you make Zosca a huge success doing it all your way.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that true?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I admire what you’re trying to do. Maybe it’s because you remind me of my grandad in some ways, and I would love to believe that he could have made it if I’d been around to help him.”
She smiled. “But you’re not sentimental?”
“That really was the wrong word. I guess I am sentimental at heart.”
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t be able to work with you if I didn’t think you had a heart hiding in there somewhere.”
He met her gaze, and for a moment he looked so serious. “I have a heart, Chelsea.”
Chapter Twelve
Grant was getting used to his walks around town. He had a couple of favorite routes. One that he took in the morning before heading to work, and another, the one he was on now. This took him on a bigger loop around downtown, bringing him back down Fifth Street. At the bottom of Fifth, he took his time strolling by the river. It was like a walk down memory lane to wander the promenade and watch the water and the boats. It was a bit busy for his liking today—though, what did he expect? It was Saturday. He turned away from the water and headed toward Molly’s. He’d discovered the place on one of his evening strolls his first week in town. It was great. They made coffee in the mornings and had an awesome bistro, wine bar feel in the evenings. He hadn’t been in there for lunch yet, but that was about to change.
He found himself a seat by the window and looked around. It was busy, but not overcrowded yet. He was on the early side of the lunch rush. The owner, Molly herself, came toward him with a smile. “Good morning. It’s good to see you again. I’m guessing you’re not a tourist. You’ve been around for a few weeks now.”
“No, I’m here for a few months—for a work project.”
Molly held out her hand. “Well, since you’re going to be around for a while, welcome to the community, and let me introduce myself properly. I’m Molly.”
He shook her hand with a smile. “Nice to officially meet you, Molly. I’m Grant.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. Are you working with Hamilton-Groves?”
He nodded, wondering what kind of reaction he’d get now that she knew who he was. He was relieved when she smiled.
“I should warn you, I’m a good friend of Chelsea’s. We go back a long way. All the way to grade school.”
“Lucky you.” And where the hell had that come from? What did it even mean?
Molly seemed to think she knew. “I think so. She’s awesome. She’s one of my best friends. So, listen. If we’re going to get along, I don’t want to hear anything about your work there, okay?”
Grant chuckled. “That suits me just fine.”
Molly smiled. “Cameron and Mary Ellen are also my friends.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why does that sound like a warning?”
She laughed. “It isn’t a warning. It was just my way of letting you know that Chelsea’s not the only one who’s hoping you’ll stick around for more than a couple of months.”
Grant’s heart raced in his chest. “She said that?”
Molly laughed. “Not in so many words, no, but Cameron did.”
Grant narrowed his eyes. It didn’t sit right with him that she was telling him this. If she were such good friends with Chelsea and Cameron, why would she be telling him what they thought?
She laughed, understanding his caution. “Don’t worry. I’m not spilling secrets I shouldn’t. I’m sure Cameron has made it clear that he’d like you to stick around and help out. As for Chelsea, she hasn’t admitted it even to herself yet, but I know she’d like it if you stuck around, too.”
“You really think so?” He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know.
Molly laughed. “Yes, I do, and now from your reaction, I know you’re as interested as she is.”
He could feel the heat in his cheeks. “You just played me, to figure out how I feel?”
Molly nodded happily. “I wouldn’t say played, as such, but I wanted to know, and now I do.”
Grant shook his head. “I didn’t think she was interested.”
Molly laughed. “Men can be so dumb.”
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem.” She looked up as a large group came in. “Here’s your menu. I’ll be back to take your order in a few minutes.”
Grant watched her greet the newcomers. He wasn’t sure what to make of their exchange. Part of him was thrilled that she thought Chelsea would like to see him stick around. Part of him was wary. He didn’t like that she’d told him without Chelsea knowing. That felt a little like high school. He’d been burned back then by girls telling him their friends liked him—setting him up to make a fool of himself. This wasn’t high school, though, and Molly didn’t seem like a trouble causer; she seemed far too down to earth for that. Okay, so she’d tricked him into admitting that he liked Chelsea, but he had a feeling she had his best interests at heart, as well as Chelsea’s.
He looked up as the door opened again. An older guy came in by himself. He looked familiar, but, at first, Grant couldn’t place him.
“Hi, Gene. I’ll be right with you,” called Molly. “Grab a seat wherever you like.”
Gene looked around, and Grant caught his eye with a smile. Gene came over to join him. “Hi, Grant. I’m glad to see you found the best eatery in town.”
Grant smiled. “Me too. Would you like to join me?”
“No, thanks. I’m not stopping. I’ll take a seat for a few, but just till Moll comes. I�
��m only here to see her.”
Grant smiled. “It’s funny, Napa’s known worldwide for its wines. It has a reputation as one of the biggest wine capitals, and yet, it’s still just a small town in some respects, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is, to those of us who live here. You’re right, of course, about it being a famous place, but I don’t tend to think about that. I just get on with my life, and so do my friends.”
Molly came to join them. She bent down and dropped a kiss on Gene’s cheek. “Hey. How are you doing?”
“I’m great, thanks. I’m feeling better than I have in years.”
“That’s good to hear. Are you staying for a bite?”
“No, I’ve not got time. Rita’s got me running errands to get ready for tonight. Do you have her order ready yet?”
“Oh, gosh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d want it early. I was planning to arrive at five-thirty and bring everything with me.”
Gene patted her hand. “Don’t worry. That’s what I said. I think Rita just wants me out from under her feet while she gets everything ready, so she made up a list of things for me to do—I think maybe half of them are bogus.”
Molly laughed. “You should make the most of it. Take your time.”
Gene shook his head and winked at Grant. “Only half of my chores are bogus. Some of them are very real, and they include a trip to the grocery store and a stop at the dry cleaners.” He turned to Grant. “It’s just a cookout, just casual, but I have to get my shirts back from the cleaners.”
Grant laughed.
“Are you going?” asked Molly.
Grant shook his head.
Gene gave him a hard stare. “Why not?”
Grant shrugged and gave them a sheepish grin. “For one thing, I’m not sure what you’re talking about, and for another, I am sure I wasn’t invited.”
“Dammit.” Gene shook his head. “I didn’t ask you?”
