Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I conceded, although I didn’t like it. I presumed we’d have a lot of things to fight about. My lawyers have already been provided with the actual trust agreement and I’m clear on the terms. Essentially, Alaine owned eighty percent of the winery and only twenty percent belongs to the company that holds the Kentucky bourbon distillery. Conversely, her parents and Gabe hold ninety-five percent of the bourbon side of the business with Alaine only having five percent.
“Why was ownership split like that?” Marcie asks.
“From what I gather, Lionel wasn’t interested in the winery. It was started a few generations back by the original line of Mardraggons before emigrating to the United States. Lionel was most proud of his Kentucky bourbon that their family pioneered before the Civil War. He offered to give Alaine majority shares of the winery if she gave up most interest in the bourbon, which she readily did. But what he didn’t know was that Alaine was turning it into quite the moneymaker, having gone out and recruited private investments, bought two additional vineyards, and made that part of the Mardraggon legacy as lucrative as the bourbon.”
“I bet Lionel felt stupid,” Marcie says with a snicker.
“I imagine he did, but weirdly… Gabe seems quite proud of his sister’s accomplishment. Of course, he still hounded me to sell the business to his family and promised all kinds of monetary reward for Sylvie, but I declined. It’s not mine to give away and should be up to Sylvie when she gets older.”
“So, that child essentially owns eighty percent of a very lucrative winery,” Marcie muses.
“And I have to manage it with Gabe,” I mutter, the bitterness of such a thing heavy on my tongue. “Luckily, there is an accomplished overseer named Esteban something or other who is able to manage everything from harvest to production to final packaging and sales, but Gabe and I will have to meet at least monthly to make sure everything operates smoothly.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Marcie says before taking a small bite of the pork loin.
“Oh, it’s bad. Gabe says he has lots of ideas to expand the winery even more but he can’t do any of that without my agreement, and frankly… I don’t have time to devote to figuring those things out. So, I basically told him I want things to remain status quo until I can get through foaling season. He wasn’t happy about that.”
Marcie wipes her mouth with a napkin, takes another sip of her wine. “I admire you for handling all this. You know, you could have designated a legal representative to deal with Gabe, but you’re doing it yourself.”
“I’m the best one to protect Sylvie,” I point out. “I don’t trust anyone else to look out for her interests the way I would.”
“You have a lot on your plate,” she says. “I don’t know how you do it all.”
“I wonder that myself sometimes.” My laugh is mostly mirthless but I have to find some amusement that I’m taking an evening off—whereas I’d normally do office work after Sylvie goes to bed—to spend it with a woman.
And not in a woman’s bed, because I have no intention of going that far with Marcie tonight. Just being in her company is enough. There’s something about being near her that makes ignoring my responsibilities worthwhile with little guilt associated.
“I’m wondering why you have to shoulder everything.” Marcie’s head tilts in curiosity, her fingers playing with the rim of her glass. “I get that your parents wanted to retire and Lord knows, they deserve it, but you have three very capable siblings who have chosen to work the farm with you. And correct me if I’m wrong, you only have them doing the training. Why don’t you give them some of the load?”
I tip my head back and laugh at the absurdity, but maybe Marcie hasn’t quite figured me out yet. “Don’t you know? I’m an absolute control freak. I don’t trust things to get done the right way unless I’m involved.”
She shakes her head, her red waves shimmering under the small pendant light over the table. “I don’t buy that. I mean, yeah, I can totally see you’re a control freak, but you trust your family.”
Perceptive woman. I’m impressed that she’s gleaned so much from our family dynamics. I nod in agreement, gaze dropping to my beer bottle before lifting again. “I don’t like to burden them. I took on this role and when I tell you it’s a lot of work, that’s just part of it. Blackburn Farms is a legacy reaching back almost two hundred and twenty years from the very first saddlebred horse we purchased. Generations of Blackburns have worked their fingers to the bone to make this business what it is, and I’m not talking about the money. I’m talking about the reputation of our horses and the respect we’ve garnered throughout the world for what we’ve created. It’s about the preservation of this breed and creating something amazing that will go on to be loved. Creating something that will go to a good home, be adored, be shown to its full capacity… do what it was meant to do. I’m the one who’s in charge of this generation’s duties and I don’t want that pressure on Kat, Trey and Wade. They’re all three doing what they love and have no interest in the drudgery of what it takes to maintain everything.”