The visit to the vineyard can only be described as hellish. The grapes are overgrown and it’s too late in the growing season to thin them now. The damage has been done. I’m outraged that my father, with all of his talk about preserving a ‘family legacy’ has allowed his vineyards to be so abused. I see the board now for what it’s always been - a bunch of sycophants kissing up to the CEO in order to keep themselves in the manner they’ve become accustomed to. And he accused me of sucking off the family teat?
This must show on my face because the head grower pales. “You’re fired,” I snarl. “Pack your things and go.”
“B-b-but, you can’t do that,” he blusters. “It’s nearly harvest.” Then he glares. “Mr. Case will have something to say about this.”
“I bet he will. Please inform him the younger
