The attention on her was absolute. “I lay these facts out for you to make one thing clear—I don’t ask you to do this for me. I love you, I love every hectare of this kingdom, but I am a wealthy, talented, and smart princess. I don’t need you to secure my future.
“I ask you to choose this for the future of the Monte del Vino Real.”
At that moment, headlights from a truck behind the crowd came on, lighting her up. Then headlights from another. Sofia realized then that only a slip of the day’s light was still available. It was now or never.
She pointed at the bolt of fabric behind her in the truck bed. “This is the only way forward. Yes, it will provide either sure success or epic failure, and we won’t know of either until the sun comes out tomorrow. But the old way, the Consejo way, leads to the end of the Monte. A few families will stay rich while the rest decline, our children will move away, and our way of life will be over. You must decide now. The possibility of a quick death or the certainty of a long, slow one. Aish?”
As everyone processed her words and Carmen Louisa caught up with the translation, Aish blinked like he was coming out of a daze. “Um...me?”
She smiled as he came closer into the light. “Yes, you. Could you organize our crew?”
“Me?” he asked again. He walked until the lowered tailgate stopped him; she moved forward until it supported her weight. He looked up at her as she looked down at him.
“Yes. You.” She grinned. “This was your idea and you have experience with the shade fabric. You should lead our crew.”
He looked up at her like she’d hit him with a mallet. His black hair was soft and mussed; there were fabric threads in it. She wanted to brush them out with her fingers. His eyes were deep and warm. He licked his plush bottom lip, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his strong, tanned throat.
She’d seen this look on him before. It was dazzled. It was dangerous.
She stepped back and looked away, around, heart racing, and noticed Carmen Louisa rushing toward her. In that ten-second interaction, she’d forgotten that her kingdom’s future was being decided as the world watched.
She jumped off the truck bed and took a steadying breath as Carmen Louisa reached her.
“Vale. They’ll do it,” the grower said in a rush.
“How many?” Sofia held her breath. Half of the growers would be good; they could still pull a vintage from half the expected fruit. Getting eleven of these growers to reject Juan Carlos’s big payout would be a miracle.
“All of them,” Carmen Louisa announced with her eyebrows raised.
“All of them?”
Carmen Louisa’s smile told her she was shocked too.
But Sofia could waste time on shock later. They didn’t have a moment to spare.
She jumped back on the truck bed.
“Okay, vale, excellent...” But then she had to stop. Because she had to wipe her eyes. She pinched her quivering lips together and raised one finger.
She just needed a second.
“Vale,” she said again, clearing her throat. She saw others in the crowd wiping their eyes. “Bien. Mil gracias,” she said with a hand over her heart as she looked at her growers. But then she clapped her hands together.
“Now we get to work.”
September 16
Part Two
Aish flipped on the generator and squinted away from the eye-searing spotlight as workers, interns, and growers gathered around him. Devonte, in jeans and the most casual business shirt he owned, picked up the corner of the long length of white cloth and handed it to him.
“So when you’re cutting the cloth, cut it two feet longer than your rows so you can cover fruit at both ends,” Aish told the group, holding up the open-weave cloth. He hooked a hole at the top of the cloth on to the trellis stake, just under the thick leaf canopy and just above the top of the grape clusters. Then he pulled the cloth to the next trellis stake and connected it.
He tugged on the fabric. “The goal here is to get a nice horizontal line that will keep out the sun without smashing the fruit.”
He looked up and caught Sofia watching him, an intent expression on her face. He’d done this tutorial earlier for her and her brother Mateo—who was already hard at work with his crews putting shade cloth up in his most vulnerable vineyards—but he never expected to be entrusted to show her people. This wasn’t rocket science; anyone could figure out how this shade cloth worked. But Aish was knocked out honored to be asked. She’d trusted his recommendation for this vineyard innovation that was still in the trial phase. She’d had him explain it to her brother. She’d sent him on the billionaire’s plane to Bordeaux to make sure they were picking up what her phone call had purchased. She’d put him in this position of responsibility, training everyone, directing her crew.
It felt like being in a band again.
“My uncle liked crews of three. One person cuts the cloth and lays it out in the row, another person hooks it at the top, and then your third person hooks it at the bottom.” Devonte, who’d also been part of the earlier demonstration, crouched down and belled the fabric under the fruit to attach it to the trellis stake. He stood, moved to the next stake, and crouched to attach it. Both knees cracked.
Aish said, “And make sure to switch off before the guy bending over wants to kill you.”
Everyone laughed.
Aish’s expertise with the shade cloth was pure luck. The cloth’s French manufacturer had contacted his uncle during the growing season before John’s death. They
