Page 13 of Bit's Bliss

I waited until he was gone before leaving as well. Rather than getting in my truck, I took the pathway to the old winery and went inside. Everything looked the same as when I was last here. Was that yesterday? Why, in less than twenty-four hours, did it feel so different?

Because it was, and this time, there’d be no undoing the damage I’d done by putting my hands on someone who worked for me. My only recourse now was tokeep it from getting worse, and that meant staying the hell away from Eberly Warwick.

“Hey. Glad I found you,” said Brix.

What the fuck? First, Snapper had stopped by last night, then Cru earlier, now Brix. Would I receive a visit from each of my siblings before the day’s end?

He looked around the room, then stepped up to the tasting bar. “The place looks incredible.”

“What do you want?”

“It’s about Eberly. At least indirectly.”

“I plan to cover her bid.”

Brix pulled out a stool and took a seat. “I guess you’ve already heard.”

“Heard what?”

“About their winery closing.”

I went behind the bar, pulled a bottle from the shelves below, opened it, and poured two glasses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Last night, after you took off and I went inside, Eberly approached me. I was stunned to hear her engagement had been called off, and when I mentioned it to Tryst, he said he’d feared something like that would happen.”

I rubbed my left temple out of habit, not that I felt a migraine coming on, although trying to follow whatever the hell Brix was talking about might give me one.

“Is this about the winery closing or her getting married?”

“Both.”

I took a long drink from my glass and set it down. “Get to the fucking point.”

He chuckled. “Same ol’ Bit.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but shut it when he held up a hand. “As I’m sure you know, the demand for wine has fallen off dramatically while the number of hectares being planted worldwide has doubled every year for the last five.”

“I’m aware.”

“Most of us in this region reacted early on by allowing certain varietals to remain dormant. And, ironically, the outbreak of Botrytis bunch rot this year had helped us more than it hurt. Not everyone in the valley fared as well as we did. Namely, Eberly Winery.”

That Malcolm and Belinda Warwick had named their winery for their daughter made referencingit as confusing as our family’s estate being called Los Caballeros.

“About eight months ago, Warwick made the decision to merge with the Wine Consortium. He wasn’t alone. Many smaller producers, both here and in Napa, did the same when they realized how severe their losses might be. Within a week of the merger finalizing, the WC went public.”

I’d heard of the consortium but only in passing. Given Los Cab was one of the largest producers in the State of California, we’d have no reason to join them.

“In last week’s quarterly industry report, the WC alluded to the possibility that as much as half a million tons of grapes from their holdings would be left hanging this year.”

My eyes opened wide.

“Subsequently, shares that were trading at upwards of ten dollars have plummeted. They are now worth less than ten cents.”

This could go one of two ways. Either Warwick had dumped his stock prior to the announcement, in whichcase he’d be investigated for insider trading, or he’d lost everything.

“Are you saying Eberly bid with money she doesn’t have?”

“I don’t know for certain.”