“Fact,” I said as we headed out of the cellars and into the open air.
The tour was already far enough away that they wouldn’t overhear us. Alejandra appeared then.
“New tour guide is on fire. I like her. If things keep up like this, then we might even need to hire another one.”
“That’s good news,” Hollin boasted.
“The Wright event should secure it. Any news on the distribution?” she prodded me.
“No,” I said, repeating to her what I’d told Hollin. “Hopefully soon.”
She cursed eloquently in Spanish. “I hate that they have all this control. But if we have to wait, then we have to wait.”
“I reached out to them again today. We’ll see what they say about the delay.”
“Keep us up-to-date,” she said with a nod and then returned to work.
Hollin clapped me on the back. “I believe in you. You got this. You’re business-savvy. You’ll make it all work.”
“Thanks, Hollin.”
He trailed off after Alejandra. He’d thought he was giving me a compliment, and I’d forced myself to take it as one. But it felt like a chain around my neck. Jordan was so proud of me. Hollin believed in me. I couldn’t fuck up. I had to make this right. I needed to get back in there and talk to the distributors again. George had made it seem like a done deal. Why wouldn’t I know by now?
I cursed and headed back to my desk. I pulled up my computer to get his number but saw that an email was waiting from the company.
Fucking finally.
I clicked to open it and stared at the message. It wasn’t even from George himself. It was written from his secretary with him CC’ed on the email.
Dear Julian.
Thank you so much for reaching out about the distribution contract. At this time, we’re unable to offer you…
My jaw dropped as I finished off the letter. A form letter. They’d sent a form rejection of our application for distribution. It didn’t even list reasons.
What the actual fuck was this shit? I couldn’t believe it. I’d been put through the hoops to get to this position. Yes, we were a new winery. Yes, we were a risk. Yes, there were reasons to deny us. But none of that had come up when I had my meetings with them. They knew Jensen. They were familiar with the Wright brand. They knew the likelihood that we’d stumble and fall was small since we had the capital to keep it afloat.
If they’d said any of those reasons, I could have put it aside and worked on it again in a year when we had more time and energy and money under our belt. But that wasn’t it. This was straight garbage.
Without thinking, I dialed George’s number. He’d given it to me on a business card, saying it was his personal line. I hadn’t used it because so far, everything had been working out.
“Hello?” George said.
“George, hi. It’s Julian Wright.”
“Julian, so good to hear from you,” he said as amicably as he’d been at the gala last month.
“I just received a form letter from the company, rejecting Wright Vineyard’s application for distribution.”
“Ah,” he drawled. “I thought that might be it.”
“What is going on?”
“It just isn’t the right fit.”
I blinked. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing personal. Purely business, son. I wanted to work with you, but when we looked at the information provided and compared it to what else was out there, we had to say no.”
“So, it’s because we’re new?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Is there a real reason for not taking us?” I snapped. I winced at my tone, but desperation took over. My charm had dissolved. This felt impossible.
“Sorry, son. Try again in a few years.” He even sounded sincere. “We’ll reconsider at a later date.”
And the line went dead.
He’d hung up on me.
I flung the phone across the room, and it shattered against the wall with a satisfying crunch. I regretted it almost as soon as I was done with my burst of anger. Now, I’d have to replace the damn thing, too. I didn’t have time for that. For anything.
What was I going to do? The question filtered through my mind on repeat.
They’d turned us down, given me no real answer for why, and then discarded us. Just that easily. This could sink the vineyard. Having a distribution agreement was the easiest way to make money in this business. Now, we could only sell on-site. We couldn’t get into stores or sell online or…anything. We were confined to this one place and time. A huge hindrance to the business.
And I couldn’t tell Hollin and Alejandra. They’d been so anticipating it. Hollin believed in me. I could go to Jordan. I squeezed my eyes shut and balled my hands into fists. No, I couldn’t do that either. Jordan was always my saving grace. But how the fuck was he going to fix this? And if he did, then he’d know I’d failed. He’d handed me the company, and I’d failed. He’d been bragging to Dad about it. Fuck. I didn’t know what to do.