for sharing that, Gus, and I appreciate the fact you’ve given me a good hearing today. But your granddaughter has good reason for being wary of this deal.’ Gus looked up, surprised. Holly looked suspicious. ‘She wants what’s best for Purman Wines, I understand that. I respect her for it.’
‘What are you saying?’ Gus said, looking crestfallen. ‘You’re not withdrawing your offer?’
He smiled. ‘No. I’m offering you a better one.’
‘It’s not just about the money,’ Holly said. ‘I told you that.’
He nodded. ‘You did. You also told me that I wasn’t the kind of person you wanted to do business with.’ He paused, letting that sink in. ‘Let me prove to you that I am.’
Gus seemed intrigued as he looked from their visitor to his granddaughter, a frown tugging his shaggy brows together. He’d missed that part of the conversation. ‘And how do you intend to do that?’
‘You’re down a worker. You need someone to help you prune. I’m volunteering for the job.’
THE BREATH HOLLY had been holding burst free on a laugh. To think she’d almost been worried for a moment! ‘That’s good,’ she said, pausing for air. ‘That’s funny!’
Gus wheeled himself closer. ‘Hear him out, Holly. Listen to what the man has to say.’ And to Franco, ‘Now, what exactly are you proposing?’
‘Oh, come on, Pop. The man knows nothing about vineyards. I doubt he’s ever had to work a day in his life. Sorry, Chatsfield, I’m afraid I’m not looking for a work experience student.’
‘I can prune.’
‘You can?’
‘Pop, no. Seriously?’
He hushed her by holding up one hand. ‘Now, Franco, pruning vines like ours is a specialised job. We don’t trust our low-yield high-quality grapes to machines. It’s all hand pruning here. Where have you pruned?’ Gus’s voice cut over the top.
Holly crossed her arms and glared at Franco. This was ridiculous. They were wasting time. She should be on the phone chasing up someone to replace Tom, not listening to the wild imaginings of a spoiled rich kid who probably didn’t know a hard day’s work if it slapped him in the face.
‘A vineyard in the Piacenza region of Italy, not far from Milan.’
‘You’ve worked there?’
He smiled. ‘You could say that. I own it.’
Silence descended so suddenly his words might have been a thunderclap.
Gus recovered first. ‘You own a vineyard in Italy?’
‘I do. We grow some local varietals. Malvasia, Barbera, along with some merlot and pinot noir.’
‘And you didn’t think to mention this before?’
‘I didn’t think it relevant. This deal is between Chatsfield Hotels and Purman Wines, nothing to do with my business interests.’
Holly was beyond angry. ‘You couldn’t even mention it in polite conversation?’ He’d let her think he knew nothing of vines or wine. He’d let her accuse him of the same and not corrected her. He’d cut short the tour like it was an imposition on his precious time and not something he was interested in in the least. What was she supposed to think?
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise we’d had a polite conversation.’
Bastard.
‘You could have said something!’
‘I was here to broker a deal and I was under the impression Chatsfield’s offer would be welcome. I didn’t realise small talk was expected.’
‘You made no effort!’
‘You think if I had, Ms Purman, it might have made you more amenable to my offer? I think not.’
Gus grunted. ‘True enough, Holly.’ His eyes narrowed then, homing in on Franco. ‘But can you really prune?’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Gus, the past couple of years I’ve spent more time in the boardroom than in amongst the vines, but yes, I can prune and I used to be a star pruner. All our estate vines are hand pruned. I spent more than ten years hand pruning every season.’
Holly felt the ground beneath her shifting so fast she was battling to keep up. ‘Oh, Pop, this is mad! You can’t seriously be thinking of agreeing to this.’
‘No? And why not, Holly? We’re short an experienced worker. You know yourself how long it takes to train someone and get them up to speed. Years.’
‘But he’s … a Chatsfield! And whatever flimsy connection he has to this supposed vineyard in Italy—’
‘The estate exists, Ms Purman. And I assure you, it’s mine.’
‘Then why are you offering to do this, if you’ve got your own vineyard back in Italy? How can you afford to offer us your services and your time? Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?’
‘There’s something in it for me, of course. I need this deal finalised. So I’ll replace Tom and help you prune. And when the pruning’s done and dusted, to your satisfaction, of course, then you will sign the contract.’
‘But—’
‘No. You’re the one who made it clear you’d never do business with a Chatsfield and that anyone with the Chatsfield name should be tarred with the same brush. I’d like the opportunity to show you that you can’t just write us all off that way. I’d like the opportunity to prove that you can do business with a Chatsfield and not regret it.’
‘That’s not the only reason I’m not in favour of this deal and you know it.’
‘True, you’re also worried about the scandals that my siblings have brought upon themselves from time to time, and their impact on the Chatsfield name. You’re worried the Purman name might be dragged down in the fallout. But I can tell you that you have nothing to fear. You will no doubt choose not to believe me. But in the time it takes to prune—how many weeks will that be? Two? Four?’
‘Six,’ she snapped. ‘At least.’
That long? A moment’s hesitation before he nodded. ‘Even better. Six weeks will be perfect. And if there are any scandals involving my family—any at all in that time—then you can choose to walk away from the deal, regardless of how far along we are with the pruning. Otherwise, at the end of six weeks, you sign the contract, and the deal between Chatsfield and Purman Wines is done. Do we have a deal?’
‘I like it!’ said Gus with a chortle as he slapped the flat of his hand against one leg. ‘It solves everything. What do you say, Holly?’
Holly couldn’t say anything. Not right now. She was too busy working out how she’d lost an advantage that had seemed to her, such a very short time ago, as unassailable.
She’d had the high moral ground. But the rock-solid ground she’d been so sure of minutes ago had turned to quicksand.
They were both waiting, Gus and Franco, watching her, waiting for her response. And damn them both, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. ‘Surely you have family back home who will be expecting you?’
Something dark scudded across his cool grey eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. ‘No.’
‘Business interests that need looking after?’
‘They’ll manage.’
‘What if you’re rubbish at pruning?’
‘Then the deal is off. But