The Night Before the Winemaking Contest, Floating Comments Exposed His Plan Chapter 07

The Night Before the Winemaking Contest, Floating Comments Exposed His Plan Chapter 07

The workers stopped mid-step and looked at each other.

“Laurel.”

Camille strolled over, acting like this was a casual visit.

She was smiling like nothing had ever happened between us.

“I told them to do it.”

I stared at her.

“You told them to?”

She nodded.

“It’s such a waste leaving these seedlings here.”

She pointed to a patch of ground nearby.

“I checked it out: better sunlight, better soil. I figured I’d help you move them.”

“You’ve been carrying everything alone up in Northpine for so long. It’s time someone helped.”

She reached for my hand.

“Laurel, I always knew you’d make it.”

“But what’s the point of all this success if you don’t have your family?”

“Your mom and your brother miss you so much, Laurel. What happened before is all in the past.”

She squeezed my fingers.

“Let’s start over. All of us. Okay?”

I yanked my hand back.

Her hand hung in the space between us. The smile on her face flickered.

I went straight to the relocated seedlings, crouched down, and brushed the soil aside.

My hands went still.

The roots were snapped. Moisture was already bleeding out.

I checked the ones next to it.

One. Two. Ten. All the same.

A grower nearby rushed over.

One look at the roots and his face changed.

“Ms. Whitaker…”

He crouched down and lifted a withered yellow leaf, careful as if handling something already dead.

“The roots on these mother vines are destroyed. There’s no saving them.”

Nobody spoke.

The smile slid off Camille’s face.

“How? I only asked them to move the vines. That’s all…”

The grower shook his head.

“These aren’t regular seedlings. They’re snowcrest chardonnay. Once the roots are damaged, the entire

cultivation chain collapses.”

Camille went white.

“I didn’t know. I was just trying to help.”

She turned to me.

“Laurel, I never meant to hurt you.”

“Can’t I even try to make things right?”

I looked at her, and a laugh escaped before I could stop it.

“Make things right?”

She froze.

I swept my hand across the scattered seedlings.

“Do you have any idea how many growers in Northpine are counting on this batch to reach market?”

“How much time and money they poured into these vines?”

“How many families are depending on this harvest to survive?”

“You think ‘I didn’t know’ erases all of that?”

Camille’s tears spilled over.

“I really didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not the first time you’ve said that.”

The silence that followed had weight.

Footsteps behind me.

“What happened?”

Wesley came in fast.

He stopped at the vineyard entrance, taking in the damaged seedlings scattered across the dirt.

Camille’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Wesley…”

He didn’t go to her.

His eyes stayed on the withered vines.

“How much is the damage?”

“I’ll cut you a check. Double market value.”

The grower beside me went still.

I turned to him.

“A check?”

Something shifted in his face.

“Laurel…”

I cut him off.

“You think this is something you can fix by throwing money at it?”

“Snowcrest chardonnay is six years of my life. Do you have any idea how long it takes to bring it to market?”

I pointed at the ground.

“You can’t just buy new seedlings and swap them in. These are irreplaceable.”

“Who was the one who taught me that?”

His hand trembled.

More than ten years ago, a flood leveled the vineyard hills.

He’d fallen to his knees in the mud.

“The vines a grower protects their whole life are worth more than life itself. Destroy the vines and you destroy their hope.”

Camille was crying again.

“Wesley, I really didn’t know. I just wanted to help Laurel. I had no idea it would be this bad.”

Wesley closed his eyes. He looked like a man holding something together with nothing left.

“I’ll take responsibility.”

“You came to Briarvale looking for partnerships. I know there are vineyards here you’ve had your eye on.”

“I’ll give them to you.”

I looked at him.

A long silence. Then I let out a quiet laugh.

“Mr. Ashford. Always thinking you can buy your way out of guilt.”