Write about: the baron.
Went up to Penticton with my family today. Grabbed an early lunch together before visiting with a friend of Kat's, whose eldest daughter was the flower girl at our wedding. She's turning eight next week.
Kat had a class to go to mid-afternoon but Max wasn't ready to leave yet so I stayed behind with him. He wanted me close for most of the time she was gone, but eventually went upstairs to play with the two girls while I chatted with their parents.
Yes, at one point he did end up in a princess dress. Yes, I do have a picture to prove it. No, I haven't decided whether or not I'm sharing it yet.
You know, like, before his wedding.
Max ended up napping on the way home, which meant his bedtime was pushed back by an hour or two. That wasn't as bad as it could have been, but I am now also very ready for bed. So...
"Good evening, Mr. Whittaker," the man said as he entered the spacious office and gently closed the heavy door behind him. "Is something wrong? You never call me in this late in the day."
"And I thank you for making the time to see me, Roger," Whittaker said. He pulled a thin black notebook from a drawer and placed it on his desk. "I wanted to go over your schedule with you, for tomorrow and... the next little while."
"Is that really necessary?" Roger asked, remaining standing. "Me and my crew are starting at the south end of the valley and working our way back north, hitting each of your vineyards as we go. If all goes according to plan, this pass will take... what? Why are you smiling?"
"That, dear friend, is the old plan." Whittaker motioned for Roger to sit down and his foreman did so. Whittaker opened the notebook and scanned his notes. "The new plan is as follows: we will meet at Mario's coffee shop tomorrow morning at 9 am. Bring the whole crew."
"Is this to celebrate something or...?"
"In a way, yes." Whittaker smiled. "You will be fired. Your crew, if they do not quit on the spot, will also be fired."
"What?" Roger was on his feet in a heartbeat.
"It will get personal and angry and loud," Whittaker continued without looking up. "I will not thank you for your fifteen years of service."
"You... really? I was certain it was... it doesn't matter. If things escalate naturally and you're feeling like it is the right move in the moment, you may punch me. Not hard, mind, but make it look good on your end and I shall do the same on mine."
"What are you talking about?" Roger placed both hands on the desk, more to steady himself than anything else.
"Roger, I have grown weary of competing with Mr. Sanchez. It is my intention to put him out of business and become the sole winemaker in this valley. And to this end, I require your assistance."
"Why the hell would I want to help you with anything?"
"Because I will continue to pay your salary. Even after you and your crew begin working for Mr. Sanchez."
"What? Why would you... why would he... why?"
"Mr. Sanchez will hear about our very public falling out before your coffee grows cold in your mug. He will not pass up the opportunity to bring the most experienced foreman in the area into his operations. You, of course, will insist that your recently fired crew join you. He, seeing the wisdom in this, will agree with minimal fuss."
"What do you want from me, Mr. Whittaker?"
"Simply your help in putting Mr. Sanchez out of business, from within. Nothing less, nothing more. Do you think you can do that, dear friend? The rewards for your efforts will be... most worthwhile."