United
States so Sarah had found her another job in the company enabling her to stay
near her family. Prior to that, Bonnie had worked for Sarah for three years.
The day she left she was still calling Sarah “Miss Harrington”.
God, she needed a friend. Someone she could trust, someone
who held her name in their mouth and spoke it carefully as if it really
mattered to them. David had done that, made her name sound like something
special. You’re a beautiful, dirty, amazing woman. Scream for me, Sarah
Harrington. I want to feel you come around me.
How could he have so thoroughly fooled her? Had he
fooled her or had the whole thing been a dreadful misunderstanding? Why hadn’t
she heard a thing from him since?
Bernard Cawley hurried into the room, a thick report under
his arm. Sarah straightened and put on her game face. She couldn’t spend any
more time mooning over recent mistakes. She had work to do.
Bernard launched into the latest update on the upcoming
opening of Melbourne’s second Harry’s Nook. Sarah listened intently, asking for
clarification when necessary. By the time the meeting was drawing to a close,
Sarah was satisfied everything was well in hand. Why wouldn’t it be? She
employed excellent staff and they did their jobs well. Other than for check
signing and making the larger strategy decisions, she was barely needed for the
day-to-day running of the brand.
The realization gave her the sense she’d been set adrift in
an endless sea of nothingness…or possibility.
Possibility?
“One more thing, Bernard.” Her employee turned at the door,
ready for further instruction. Sarah wasn’t sure what she was going to say
until the words were out. “There’s a small local winery interested in stocking
their product at Harry’s Nook. Windy Valley, I think it’s called.” She didn’t
think, she’d memorized the name by heart. “Are they on the supplier’s list?”
“I’m not sure. I can check.”
“Please do. I tried some very nice Shiraz from there
recently. It’s best for the industry all around if we give some of the smaller
producers a chance to shine, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” Bernard agreed. “I’ll make it happen.”
Why on earth did you do that? Sarah wondered as the
door swung shut behind Bernard.
Maybe it was because it had been almost two weeks since that
night and it was obvious David hadn’t leaked her story to a journalist. Neither
had he turned up here to put the screws on her for shelf space at the wine bar.
Perhaps it was simply that she believed every word of what
she’d just told Bernard—small local merchants produced unique wines that kept
the industry from growing sterile. She did believe in giving unknown operators
a chance to become known, to thrive.
In the end Sarah feared she’d given Windy Valley the
go-ahead for more sentimental reasons. David’s words filtered back to her. He
could have been cruel. He could have been hurtful. He certainly could have been
petty. But he hadn’t been any of those things. His voice had been gentle, kind,
perhaps even sincere. I’m going to miss you, Sarah. I hope you find what
you’re looking for.
So Sarah had been the one left feeling hurtful and petty.
Not to mention alone.
And lonely, as always. When was it going to end?
Chapter Seven
“In one hundred meters, turn right into Butcherbird Road.”
Sarah followed the directions issued by the disembodied
voice of her car’s navigation system, her heart pounding as the distance
between her and her destination closed. She tightened her grip on the steering
wheel and asked herself again what she was doing. Why couldn’t she have left
well enough alone? If David Genero wanted to refuse her company’s offer to
stock his Shiraz in Harry’s Nook, that was his choice. There was no reason it
should cause Sarah such vexation.
Yet his turning down their offer—and second offer—had vexed
the hell out of Sarah. Who did that? What kind of businessman
States so Sarah had found her another job in the company enabling her to stay
near her family. Prior to that, Bonnie had worked for Sarah for three years.
The day she left she was still calling Sarah “Miss Harrington”.
God, she needed a friend. Someone she could trust, someone
who held her name in their mouth and spoke it carefully as if it really
mattered to them. David had done that, made her name sound like something
special. You’re a beautiful, dirty, amazing woman. Scream for me, Sarah
Harrington. I want to feel you come around me.
How could he have so thoroughly fooled her? Had he
fooled her or had the whole thing been a dreadful misunderstanding? Why hadn’t
she heard a thing from him since?
Bernard Cawley hurried into the room, a thick report under
his arm. Sarah straightened and put on her game face. She couldn’t spend any
more time mooning over recent mistakes. She had work to do.
Bernard launched into the latest update on the upcoming
opening of Melbourne’s second Harry’s Nook. Sarah listened intently, asking for
clarification when necessary. By the time the meeting was drawing to a close,
Sarah was satisfied everything was well in hand. Why wouldn’t it be? She
employed excellent staff and they did their jobs well. Other than for check
signing and making the larger strategy decisions, she was barely needed for the
day-to-day running of the brand.
The realization gave her the sense she’d been set adrift in
an endless sea of nothingness…or possibility.
Possibility?
“One more thing, Bernard.” Her employee turned at the door,
ready for further instruction. Sarah wasn’t sure what she was going to say
until the words were out. “There’s a small local winery interested in stocking
their product at Harry’s Nook. Windy Valley, I think it’s called.” She didn’t
think, she’d memorized the name by heart. “Are they on the supplier’s list?”
“I’m not sure. I can check.”
“Please do. I tried some very nice Shiraz from there
recently. It’s best for the industry all around if we give some of the smaller
producers a chance to shine, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” Bernard agreed. “I’ll make it happen.”
Why on earth did you do that? Sarah wondered as the
door swung shut behind Bernard.
Maybe it was because it had been almost two weeks since that
night and it was obvious David hadn’t leaked her story to a journalist. Neither
had he turned up here to put the screws on her for shelf space at the wine bar.
Perhaps it was simply that she believed every word of what
she’d just told Bernard—small local merchants produced unique wines that kept
the industry from growing sterile. She did believe in giving unknown operators
a chance to become known, to thrive.
In the end Sarah feared she’d given Windy Valley the
go-ahead for more sentimental reasons. David’s words filtered back to her. He
could have been cruel. He could have been hurtful. He certainly could have been
petty. But he hadn’t been any of those things. His voice had been gentle, kind,
perhaps even sincere. I’m going to miss you, Sarah. I hope you find what
you’re looking for.
So Sarah had been the one left feeling hurtful and petty.
Not to mention alone.
And lonely, as always. When was it going to end?
Chapter Seven
“In one hundred meters, turn right into Butcherbird Road.”
Sarah followed the directions issued by the disembodied
voice of her car’s navigation system, her heart pounding as the distance
between her and her destination closed. She tightened her grip on the steering
wheel and asked herself again what she was doing. Why couldn’t she have left
well enough alone? If David Genero wanted to refuse her company’s offer to
stock his Shiraz in Harry’s Nook, that was his choice. There was no reason it
should cause Sarah such vexation.
Yet his turning down their offer—and second offer—had vexed
the hell out of Sarah. Who did that? What kind of businessman
Similar Books
