“That’s different,” I argued. “Yes, you paid for my undergrad, but I paid for grad school, didn’t I? I took out loans like a normal person does, and worked while I went to school so I could start paying them back. I’m still paying them back!”
“And we’re very proud of you,” my dad said, sipping his rosé. “But that’s another reason why partnering with Oliver is a good idea. You know I wish we had all the extra cash you’ll need to open a distillery here, but we don’t. Not if you want to do it right. Mack can attest to that.”
Mack looked guilty. “Sorry, Chloe. I can’t argue there—if your heart is set on that expensive copper equipment and you really want to do this sooner rather than later, I think an experienced partner is a good idea.”
I didn’t want any damn partner—I was fiercely independent and wanted to do it on my own, proving to everyone that I could. But I was running out of patience, which had never been one of my virtues.
I set my wine down. “Okay, fine. An experienced partner might be a good idea. But why does it have to be Oliver?”
“Oliver is a natural choice,” my dad said. “He and I spoke about your ideas a bit when Mom and I were visiting Nell and Soapy last month in Harbor Springs. He happened to be there at the time. Then out of the blue, he called me yesterday. Said he’d given it some thought and had a proposal for me.”
My jaw hung open. I didn’t know what I was more miffed about—that my father had shared my ideas with Oliver in the first place without telling me, or that the two of them had made this deal behind my back, effectively hijacking my idea.
Typical men!
“What’s the exact proposal?” I demanded stiffly, trying to keep my cool.
My dad finished chewing, swallowed, and took another sip of wine before he answered. “He’ll teach you what you need to know about the business, and when he’s confident you’re ready, he’ll go ahead with the partnership and get you started up here. And he’ll put up half the money.”
“That gives him all the power,” I bristled.
“Not at all.” He leaned back in his chair. “Look, if you aren’t interested, you don’t have to do it, but then there will be no distillery at Cloverleigh. I promised your mother I’d slow down, think about retiring. She’s got travel booked for us already this fall, as soon as tourist season slows down. I can’t take on a project of this magnitude at this point in my life, personally or financially.”
“The doctor said he needs less stress,” my mother put in, patting his shoulder. “More time off. We talked it over last night, and we think this is brilliant. Oliver’s offer is very generous. Would you have preferred we turn it down?”
“No,” I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just wish you’d have talked to me before telling him I’d do it.”
“You’ve wanted this for years, Dimples,” my dad reminded me, using his old pet name for me. “Why be stubborn about this? It’s the perfect solution. Right, Mack?”
“Uh.” Mack went a little pale at the thought of having to weigh in on a family argument.
“Oh, go ahead, Mack,” I said crossly. “You might as well weigh in. You’re family now, and I trust you’ll tell me the truth.”
Mack cleared his throat. “Well, while I’m not privy to the details of the deal or partnership your dad is talking about, and I don’t know anything about Oliver or his business, I can tell you that partnering up with someone who has the knowledge and means to see something like this through is a better idea than borrowing or crowdsourcing tons of money and going in blind.”
“Exactly.” My father nodded at Mack. “I spoke with Henry DeSantis about this as well, and he agrees. He doesn’t have any background in distilling spirits, plus he’s got his hands full with the vineyard this season.”
“You already talked to Henry about this?” Henry DeSantis was the winemaker at Cloverleigh, and I worked with him a lot since I was in charge of marketing and PR for our wines and also managed the tasting rooms both here and downtown. He was a great guy and we were pretty good friends, which was why this felt like a betrayal on so many sides. I felt like they were all part of some Boys Club I wasn’t allowed into but that got to decide my future.
“I had to,” my father went on with a shrug. “After all, it will be Henry who’s short-handed while you work with Oliver—if that’s what you want, of course.” He picked up his wine again. “I won’t force you to agree to this.”
Frowning, I stared at my fork and knife. Then I cut and ate a bite of grilled shrimp, mostly just to have something to do while I mulled things over. My therapist, Ken, had taught me the benefit of taking time before shooting my mouth off, even just two or three seconds. It wasn’t always easy for me, but I was working on it.
“I think it’s a good idea,” said my older sister April, seated to my left. “Why not give the partnership with Oliver a chance?”
Why not? I had a hundred reasons, but here were the top two:
1. Oliver Ford Pemberton could not be trusted.
2. I could not be trusted around Oliver Ford Pemberton.
But I took my time chewing and swallowing. Another thing Ken had taught me was to be more empathetic, to put myself in another person’s shoes. My dad was older, almost seventy, and his health was an issue. All of us—my mother, my four sisters, longtime employees like Mack and Henry—agreed that slowing down would be best for him. Deep down I was really hoping he’d turn over some of the general management of Cloverleigh to me … it only made sense.
I wasn’t the oldest sibling—that was Sylvia—but she lived out in Santa Barbara with her husband and kids. I wasn’t even the second oldest—that was April. She was the event planner here. She was awesome at her job, and I’d never heard a peep from her about wanting to do anything else. Weddings and other corporate events kept her busy, and she was always adapting to new trends. Next in line was Meg, but she lived in D.C., where she was busy fighting injustice and trying to change the world for the better, which had always been her dream.
That left Frannie and me. Frannie was the youngest at twenty-seven, but she’d recently stopped working reception at the inn to run her own little macarons enterprise out of a coffee shop in downtown Traverse City, which was about twenty minutes away. She was also newly engaged to a single dad who had three young girls and had just moved in with them. Between her new business, helping to raise three kids, and planning a wedding, there was no way she could take on more responsibility at Cloverleigh.
So promoting me made sense. I was fully dedicated to the family business. I was thirty-two. I was single and had no prospects or plans to be otherwise in the near future—my romantic history was a road pockmarked with impulsive behavior and regrettable decisions. I had terrible taste in men, and until Ken could explain to me why I always chose assholes over nice guys, I’d sworn off relationships.
But I understood that if I wanted to prove I was a team player, flexible and smart, a big-picture thinker and a cool-headed businesswoman, I had to be willing to make compromises and not let my emotions get the best of me.