Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

“That’s because I hated my roommate and you wanted someone who would keep you from eating family-size portions of frozen macaroni.”

Vivian scoffs. “Don’t act like our slumber parties weren’t the literal joy of your life, Miss Hawthorne. I don’t associate with liars.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile is stretched wide on my face.

“I miss you,” I tell her. “A lot.”

“I miss you too, cutie-pie. It’s why I’m getting the girls together to come visit you soon, okay? Don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve been a ghost in that conversation, either.”

My nose wrinkles. “I know, I just don’t know if it’s a good idea to have everyone up here. You know? My life in LA was so different than my life here, and I feel like I need to sort things out with my family before I invite anything from that life to mix and mingle with this one.”

“It better not be because you’re embarrassed of me, Murph. Just because I speak loudly about the fact my boyfriend doesn’t give me orgasms anymore,” she says, yelling the latter part of her sentence loudly again, “doesn’t mean I would do anything to embarrass you in front of your family.”

I cover my face with a hand, trying to control my laughter. I know she’s yelling at her boyfriend somewhere in her apartment, but I can only imagine what her neighbors must think.

“I know, V. I know.”

“Listen, I really do need to get this good sleep, all right? But I’m not kidding about finding a friend, okay? Everyone needs friends.”

I nod, but she can’t see me so I just hum my agreement.

“And keep me posted on the chef. He sounds like fun.”

I laugh, then tell her I love her and say goodbye.

I never had girlfriends like Vivian when I was younger. I was involved in choir and hung out pretty regularly with Quinn and her group of friends, but nothing like this. I’ve never laughed like I do with Vivian. Hell, I didn’t even realize how much I enjoyed laughing until I met her.

It’s hard to realize how much you love someone, and how important they are to you, right before you leave them behind.

I read through the advertisement for what feels like the fifth time, double-checking that I’ve caught any grammatical errors. Once I feel satisfied, I send off the information in a mass email to the list of connections who will help get the word out. From larger, more legitimate sources, like the city’s online employment listings and the high school career counselor, to more personal ones, like some of Dad’s friends who still live around town.

My hope is that we get enough interest to be able to select from the most qualified applicants rather than just hire whoever applies.

But in this economy, you never know.

Clicking off the internet browser, I shift the mouse to the top corner, preparing to set Memphis’s computer to sleep mode when the name of a file on the desktop catches my eye.

Financials.

There’s no real reason for me to go snooping through the vineyard’s finances. Not really.

Except . . .

With his comment the other day about keeping the vineyard from bankruptcy, there’s been a little voice in the back of my mind whispering that things might be a lot more serious than I realize.

So.

I click on it.

It feels like another language. I’ve never been great at math or numbers. Not like Memphis. He took a bunch of classes at the community college to help him manage the business side of things, and I remember my senior year hearing him brag about getting the top grade in his accounting class.

Yuck.

But some sort of understanding of finances would come in handy right now as I peruse a massive spreadsheet that looks to be tracking several years’ worth of finances. The tabs on the bottom go back five years, and if I remember what Micah said correctly, that’s about the time they built up the new cellar and upgraded the warehouse.

When I scroll all the way to the bottom of this year’s page, though, it’s easier to see what the problem is.

Every column has a negative number in bold red.