5 - Best Revenge

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They could hear the yelling before they even reached the gate.

Griffin, Mrs. Greene, and Catriona made their way to the edge of the estate, to the gates opposite the driveway. A few of the other staff members were already there, trying to protect the estate from the mob on the other side. A couple dozen men stood together, yelling and throwing bottles at the gates. Griffin motioned for his staff to stand back, then put his hands in his pockets. The mob continued to jeer as bottles shattered against the gate, spilling dark crimson on the ground.

After a few moments, Griffin stepped forward, saying nothing as the crowd continued to yell harassments.

"Who are they?" Catriona asked Mrs. Greene.

Mrs. Greene wrung her hands in her apron. "A bunch of angry former employees. Mr. Griffin has lost quite a few the past few months. It seems they're taking their revenge on him now."

Griffin walked straight up to the gate, not saying a word. The men continued to throw bottles and profanities, but when Griffin showed no signs of responding, they started to cool and the crowd became quiet.

When the men had stopped throwing bottles at the gate, Griffin leaned down and picked up one of the shattered glass shards. He smirked and held it up, showing it to the crowd.

"Did you gentlemen go out and buy our label, only to throw it back to its owner?"

The men grumbled until one of them spoke. "It's the devil's drink you're selling, Griffin. It only seems right to bring it back to hell."

The men cheered, but Griffin seemed unaffected.

"Tell me, Walter," Griffin said, "who did I hire to make the wine?"

The men stood still, and uncomfortable weight on the air.

Griffin laughed. "You spent three years working for me, paying your bills with this so-called devil's drink... only to spend that money on the product that you produced so you could destroy it? What an unproductive circle."

The men took a moment to process this.

Griffin dropped the label on the ground, turning his back on them with a flick of his wrist.

"Carry on, if you choose," he said. "You waste your own work."

He looked up at Catriona and Mrs. Greene motioning for them to go back inside in the house. Catriona followed Mrs. Green, and when Griffin shut the doors behind them, Mrs. Greene gave a frustrated growl.

"Ingrates!" she yelled. "I should have taken your father's shotgun and--"

"There's no need for violence when the main enemy is stupidity, Mrs. Greene," Griffin replied. "It's always better to use clear facts. Even if your opponent doesn't understand them, it will confuse them for awhile."

"Bullets are pretty distracting as well," Mrs. Greene replied.

"I'm afraid we'll need some security," Griffin said with a sigh. He pinched his nose and winced. "I prefer not to have more people on my property, but it can't be helped."

He waved at Catriona, motioning her back outside.

"Tend to the vineyards," he commanded. "Let's not waste perfectly good grapes."

Catriona gave a bow of her head and started out the door.

"Oh, and Catriona," he called after her, "remember what I told you earlier in the vines. I don't want to see that tail between your legs any longer."

Catriona seemed to freeze for a moment, her delicate eyes blinking rapidly before giving a nod and walking back out the glass door. Griffin followed after her, leaning against the frame as he stared out the window.

"You're treating her like one of your men," Mrs. Greene said with a hint of warning. "You should show a lady a little more grace."

"She works for me, same as the men. Why should I treat her differently?"

Mrs. Greene gave a light smile. "Because a woman always blossoms best when she feels valued, Mr. Griffin."

"Flowers blossom when they're in good soil, yes. But she's made a home for herself in excuses and people-pleasing. Nothing can grow in that garden, no matter how many tunes I hum."

His lips perked in amusement remembering her off-key folk song in the vineyard. Tapping the doorframe with his hand, he left the room and the memory behind him.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Griffin watched from the second-story office window, sipping the latest batch of merlot while watching Catriona wash her hands in the outside basin. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a loose bun, long strands twirling around her face as she wiped her hands on her apron. He could almost hear the worries running through her mind; about her sister, her work, her future.

She had worked for over a week with no complaint, no attempts to escape her responsibilities or her debt. Only once did she ask for a pen and paper to write her sister, and out of curiosity for her response, he denied it. He could have easily given it to her if she had asked a second time, but she only recoiled at his rejection and turned away.

Meekness was a virtue, but timidity was not. It was a sheer miracle that the girl had survived city life so long, and if he didn't at least provide opportunities for her to grow a backbone, she would have been destroyed by her own agreeableness.

"Do you even talk to the young lady?" Mrs. Greene asked as she entered the parlor with his lunch tray.

"Why would I?" he replied. "You're my favorite person, Mrs. Greene, and I hardly speak to you. Why would I speak to a vandal?"

"Vandals don't work for wages. And I don't remember her vandalizing a thing. Her sister was the one to do so, as you mentioned to me before; meaning Miss Catriona is no less than a saint to take such responsibilities."

"Don't confuse a saint with an innocent fool," Griffin said.

"She works as hard as anyone who is desperate to survive."

"And that's the problem. She should be working hard to do more than that."

He took a sandwich from the tray, chewing on both the bread and his thoughts.

"There's no doubt about her work ethic," he continued, "but success is much more than work ethic. It involves strategy, knowledge, and confidence."

Mrs. Greene shook her head. "There you go, on and on about the keys to success once again. Don't ruin a kind girl with notions of success. It hasn't brought you any happiness, now, has it?"

He swallowed, ignoring the question. "She hasn't even asked me how much the debt is. She could work twenty-five years and believe she still owes me."

"You wouldn't let her work that long."

He gave a mischievous smile. "It depends on how good her work is."

"Speaking of guests, your cousin, Patrick, rang this afternoon. He said he's coming to visit on Sunday."

Griffin made a sour face as he swallowed his wine. "Hang up on him next time he calls. Or tell him I've moved. Or died."

"He's family, Mr. Griffin. Thanks be to God that you have any left."

"I only wished God had left me with a family I actually liked."

Mrs. Greene ignored his bitter reply and carried on with straightening his chair cushions. "Should I prepare the guest room?"

He sighed, pinching his nose with his free hand and going back to the window to watch below. "I suppose so. I don't have much choice in the matter."

As Mrs. Greene shut the door behind him, he watched as Catriona picked up the empty basket by her feet and balanced it on her hip. Moving the stray hair from her face, she looked up at the sky, and he could see her thoughts get lost in the clouds.

She has her own fantasies, he told himself. I wonder if they will destroy her as much as my own fantasies have destroyed me?

She turned her head, meeting Griffin's eyes, freezing like a young fawn in the field. He only responded with another sip of his wine, trying to douce the strange flutter in his chest.

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