Back To Us (Shore Secrets 3) (15 page)

“If I say they do, will you kiss it and make it better?”

“How about we start with some Neosporin and bandages?”

“Not my first choice.” He tried to pull his hands out of her grasp, but she held on tight.

“Don’t be a baby. It’s hard to craft good whiskey with puffy, pus-y hands. Plus, you’d scare away your clientele.”

His deep laugh rolled through the high-ceilinged room. “There you go thinking five steps ahead again.”

Behind them, a man cleared his throat. “Miss Morrissey?”

Piper turned around to find a skinny Asian man wearing mustard-and-cream wing tips. No socks. Tan khakis with the cuffs rolled up. A smoke-grey blazer over a collarless white shirt. Pencil-thin attempt at a spotty mustache. His look screamed hipster. And he was alone. That all added up to only one possible scenario: he had to be the writer from
WWLL.

Crap. She’d been caught completely unawares. Holding hands with a sweaty, scruffy man. Not the first impression she’d planned to make. Not by a long shot. Beaming as much competent confidence as she could muster, Piper said, “Hello.”

“I’m Hiromi Urso. With
Winning Wines and Laudable Liquors.
” He extended his hand, and gave a limp, if brisk, shake. “Your acreage is impressive. The view is spectacular. I’ve a feeling this article will write itself.”

He made it easy for her to slip into her well-practiced sales mode. “Oh, we’ve more than just our good looks here at Morrissey Vineyards. You’ll have to be sure to sample our award-winning wines before you go.”

“Trust me, that’s one of the best perks of this job. But I’ll have to postpone it until I’ve finished inveigling your secrets to success out of you. I spent the whole drive from Albany compiling my questions. How you plan to put your personal stamp on a long-flourishing family business. How you manage to stand out with so much competition squeezed around this breathtaking lake. How it feels to stand your ground in a still largely male-dominated field.”

“Do I get to start answering? Or are you going to throw them all at me like confetti, and I just snatch one out of the air?”

He pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket. “They’re all dictated on here. I won’t let you miss a single one.” Hiromi looked pointedly down to where Ward still held one of her hands. “Am I interrupting? Because I can go wander. Soak in the surroundings. You know, if you need a few minutes.”

Ward gave a fast squeeze, then let go. “My bad. I dropped in without an appointment. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Piper couldn’t let him just leave. Not after how wonderful he’d been to her. It’d be good to get Hiromi to notice Ward’s distillery, too. They weren’t technically business rivals. If Ward got a short blurb in an upcoming issue, that would be great payback from her for his romantic gift of the berries. It was the right thing to do.

“Wait. Don’t run off.” Piper put a hand on the small of his back to keep him in place. “Hiromi, this is one of my very best friends, Ward Cantrell.” She couldn’t bring herself to call Ward her boyfriend. It wasn’t professional. And their thirty-day dating experiment was too weird and complicated to bother trying to explain, anyway. “You probably passed his business, Lakeside Distillery, on the way here. The tall white tower? Ward makes the best grape-based liquors you’ll ever taste.”

A long, thin finger shoved black cat’s-eye glasses higher on his nose. “Grape-based? That’s unusual.”

“Well, it’s the Finger Lakes.” Ward extended an arm to encompass the acres of vines arcing down to the lake visible through the wall of windows. “We’ve got a ton of grapes. Morrissey Vineyards makes such great wine, I knew I couldn’t compete. So I went a different way.”

Aww, he couldn’t have plugged her better if she’d scripted him. Piper beamed, then gave Ward a quick finger waggle of goodbye before pointing to the hallway. “Hiromi, why don’t I show you to my office? It’ll be more comfortable than standing out here. I can even have Jeffrey bring in a glass of wine for you. Do you prefer red or white?”

He sidestepped her outstretched hand and peered up at Ward. “If you’re not talking some rotgut grappa, I’m intrigued. Grape-based spirits, you say? Such as?”

“Vodka, gin, berry and cherry liqueurs. And a full line of traditional corn whiskeys.” Ward gave them both a nod. But before he could go, Hiromi crowded even closer. And completely turned his back on Piper in the process.

“In this area, with literally scores of wineries all trying to make their mark, it seems like your business would stand out. Are you the only distiller in the area?”

“That I know of. But I’m sure some high school kid with more guts than sense has rigged up a half-assed still in a barn somewhere.” Ward chuckled. Hiromi let out a peal of high-pitched giggles.

Piper could only drum up a wan smile. This wasn’t going well at all. Or rather, it was going great for Ward. It just wasn’t going well for her. Not now that Hiromi was looking at Ward with the same rapt attention
she’d
bestowed on him just a few minutes ago. Either the man had the hots for her boyfriend or the hots for his distillery. Either way, Piper felt ignored. Invisible. And distinctly worried about her interview.

“Can I see your operation from here?”

“Yeah.” Ward didn’t expound. Probably trying to cut things short. Turn Hiromi’s attention back to Piper. He’d never been much of a small-talker. It made it all the more special the times he did throw himself headlong into a conversation. Ward always had something good to say. He just didn’t always bother to share it.

Well, she couldn’t leave Hiromi hanging. Not to mention this was her chance to get back in the conversation, even if it wasn’t about her or Morrissey Vineyards. With a nudge at his elbow, she guided Hiromi to the end of the counter and pointed to the distinctive white tower of Lakeside Distillery. “There it is. It makes a great neighboring business. Between the two of us, we’re bound to have something to please everyone’s palate.”

“Breathtaking view.” He ran a hand over the smooth wood of the counter. Then he widened his stance, propped his elbows on it and just stared down at the picture-postcard sweep of green vines, blue lake and the trees on the other side just beginning to color up for autumn. “Orienting your tasting room to the lake, way up on this hill, was a smart choice. I’m sure the view helps people linger over their samples. This is one of the most visually impactful wineries I’ve ever visited. And that’s including all the big guns in Napa.”

Whew. Piper smiled at the compliment, when she really felt like wiping the back of her hand across her forehead in utter relief. Things were back on track. Hiromi’s head was back in the game. Her game. The wine game. She’d make sure of it. “Jeffrey, would you please pour Mr. Urso a glass of our award-winning Viognier?”

“Sure thing.”

Piper turned back around to discover that Hiromi had popped off the counter to sidle back up to Ward. Apparently the two second loss of eye contact meant loss of
all
contact.

“Tell me, Mr. Cantrell—may I call you Ward?” he simpered.

Ward shot Piper a look. A look that was equal parts
do you believe this guy
and
get me out of this.
“Only if you actually want me to answer you.”

Another peal of giggles. Which sounded stranger and stranger every time they burst out of the man. “Ward it is, then. Tell me, Ward, how does distilling the vodka from grapes instead of potatoes change the flavor profile?”

“Grapes add a great deal of depth. And a hint of flavor that’ll hook you from the first sip.”

“I look forward to testing that assertion. Do you grow all the grapes yourself?”

“No. I’m no farmer,” he said brusquely. Ouch. Piper knew what a sore spot that was.

His father had fancied himself a farmer for decades, while never successfully farming anything. When Ward came back and discovered his father left him the farm—along with the pile of debts—Ward had cursed for about three days straight. Made lists of everything he’d rather do than take up the helm of the family farm. The list was wide-ranging, including being a mortician, an exterminator and an airport runway paint striper. Piper thought he just listed every episode of
Dirty Jobs
he could remember. But he’d made his point. Other people could roll the dice and farm on his land—but he never would.

Again, Piper was caught. Ward’s abrupt statement was a conversation squasher. Hiromi squinted in confusion. It would be easy to let the distillery discussion remain fizzled. But she couldn’t let Ward shut down Hiromi like that. She couldn’t let him squander the opportunity to get his plug in an international magazine. Even if it meant relinquishing the spotlight for a few more minutes.

So she prodded him back on course. “How do you get the grapes, Ward?”

He frowned at her. She lifted her eyebrows meaningfully. His frown deepened. Piper gave a split-second side glance in Hiromi’s direction. “Ah.” Geez, she practically had to write him cue cards. “Uh, when I started the distillery, I needed to get it up and running quickly. No time to plant all my own vines and wait years for the fruit to produce. Other farmers provide the grapes, the berries, all the fruit. Everything is one hundred percent local to the Finger Lakes.”

“I applaud your commitment to sourcing locally. It’s smart long-term, as well as being a white-hot trend right now.”

“That’s me,” Ward said dryly. “Big time trend-follower.”

Another rapturous peal of giggles. Wow. Watching this guy flirt with her boyfriend should be laughable. Instead, Piper felt a white-hot spurt of jealousy. Ridiculous. He’d get nowhere with Ward, except for maybe a look of quizzical pity once Ward figured out what was going on. But even knowing Hiromi didn’t stand a chance, it
bugged
her. Which was beyond ridiculous.

“I should be getting back now. I’ve got barrels of rye to turn, and I’ll need to ride herd on the newbies coming in to help with the labeling.” Ward gave a nod to each of them as Piper took the glass of wine and held it out to Hiromi.

He ignored it completely. “You’re going to the distillery now? I’d love to come with you. Tour the whole facility.”

“We don’t give tours.”

“To tourists, no. But for the man who’s going to give you a full-page feature in the December issue of
WWLL
, surely you’ll make an exception?”

The glass almost slid right out from Piper’s fingers. Probably because her entire body went numb. The utterly annoying little man wasn’t just ignoring her wine—he was ignoring her. He was ignoring the whole motivation behind his trip to Seneca Lake. He was ignoring the full-page feature he’d promised to her and Morrissey Vineyards. He was business-cheating on her with her best friend. With her boyfriend.

Ward palmed the back of his neck. He looked way more uncomfortable than pleased. As if Hiromi had offered him the feature in return for Ward scrubbing toilets for a month. “You’re what now?”

“We do a gift guide for December—ten must-haves that will please everyone from a true connoisseur to your Secret Santa. It’s been set for months. We go to print in just a few weeks. But one of our recommended libations just closed up shop.” He winked and put a finger alongside his nose. “Or rather, the INS and IRS did it for them in a one-two punch, when their use of undocumented aliens combined with lack of paying any taxes came to light. Everyone’s been scrambling to find a replacement. From what I can tell, Lakeside Distillery is exactly what we’ve all been looking for.”

Ward froze. Swung his head to look at Piper, then back at Hiromi. “That, uh, that’d be great.”

“Great?” More giggles. “It will be game-changing. You’ll need to start planning and packaging extra now, because our magazine will move your bottles off your shelves like nothing you’ve experienced before.”

Uh-huh. Exactly what Piper had been envisioning. For
her
business.

“You might want to taste the stuff first, before you go pimping it out to the entire world,” Ward said, his chin stubble rasping loudly against his hand.

“You read my mind.” Hiromi buttoned his jacket and started for the door.

Piper had a fifty/fifty chance of sounding either whiny or pushy. She’d never forgive herself if she let him just walk out without saying something, though. And Ward sure didn’t appear to be stepping up to say something on her behalf.

“Hiromi, what about the feature on Morrissey Vineyards?”

“You’re a good story, personally. But your wine itself isn’t extraordinary enough in and of itself to make it into the gift guide. So I’ll need to spend all my time today with your neighbor.” As he ushered Ward out the door, he called over his shoulder. “Someone will be in touch with you about rescheduling in a few months, I’m sure.”

A few months? She’d have to tell her father
today
that the feature had been pushed back indefinitely. She’d have to find some way to explain that Ward Cantrell was evidently more interesting and noteworthy than Patrick Morrissey’s own daughter. Cobble together some barely believable—because she could barely believe it herself—explanation why a well-established, award-winning winery that epitomized all that was noteworthy about Finger Lakes wine was being passed over in favor of a brand-new business that upended everything iconic about the Finger Lakes grapes and stood them on their ear.

It wasn’t just her father, either. Everyone who worked out at the vineyards and in here at the winery knew about the feature. They’d all been put on alert for Hiromi’s visit. Word would spread like wildfire. The whole town would learn that she’d been held up next to Ward and found lacking. She’d be a laughingstock. Or worse, ignored. Just like back in high school, when she’d been eclipsed by Ward’s shining stardom. When she’d happily stood in his shadow and soaked up his reflected glory. Except that now, that wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted to earn and grab her own glory.

“Should I clear his wine?” Jeffrey asked.

“I’ll take care of it.” Piper lifted the glass to her lips and chugged the entire thing.

Chapter Eleven

Ward carried two cases of whiskey from the flatbed of his truck over to his red-awninged stand. The cool morning air made him wish he’d thrown a sweatshirt over his Lakeside Distillery tee. It was a sharp reminder that fall officially kicked off in ten hours. Not that the town waited for it to be official.

No, the Seneca Lake Fall Harvest Festival kicked off its festivities in less than an hour. The park buzzed with vendors rushing through setup. Game booths clanged and dinged as they were tested. Glasses clinked more continuously than crickets on a hot summer night as close to thirty wineries set out their wares. And the smell of hickory chips came from the already blazing giant barbecue smokers.

Today would be balls-to-the-wall crazy. Hordes of people came in from all five Finger Lakes, Ithaca and Corning, drinking their way from stand to stand. Kids screaming and running full-tilt. It’d be a lot more fun to attend than to work. But Ward knew he’d go through every bottle he brought, and might even need to go back to the distillery for more after lunch. It’d be loud. There’d be drunk people behaving like idiots. He’d get a headache from the smells. Still, the first year he’d set up shop here at the festival, he’d sold out. Tripled his sales the next year. So he had a soft spot for this day. Despite the fact he’d work like a dog for ten hours straight.

Plus, he’d get to talk about the work he loved. Teach people about what made each liquor unique. Encourage them to leave their comfort zone of beer and experience the complexity in a hand-crafted gin. Point out that the same buttery oakiness in the chardonnay they loved existed in his cask-aged whiskeys. Yeah, it’d be a good day.

As he made the fourth circle back to his truck, Casey and Zane tromped across the high grass toward him. Casey wore one of his Lakeside Distillery shirts. Adorably, with her blond hair in two long braids. She looked like a million bucks, and he’d probably move twice as much product with her helping to serve.

Ward loped to meet them. He picked Casey up and twirled her around in a circle until she squealed. “The St. Pauli Girl’s got nothing on you. Thanks for putting your sexy on this morning to help sell my booze on your day off.”

“What are friends for? You know I love pushing your stuff. The park will be mostly empty today, anyway. Everyone and their dog will be here at the festival.”

He set Casey down and clapped Zane on the arm. “You planning to sample a bunch of wine, Professor? Eat your body weight in barbecue?”

“Maybe later, if you let me take a break. I’m here to work for you.”

“I brought a substitute for Dawn,” Casey explained. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m not picky about my slave labor. Long as it’s free.” He grabbed a Lakeside Distillery shirt from the box in his truck and tossed it to Zane. “But what’s up with Dawn? Is she okay?”

“Patty was supposed to be covering the store for her today.”

Ward hadn’t talked much to the part-time cashier at Cosgrove’s. She seemed responsible, though. Not the kind of person to flake on a shift. Especially with the baby bump she was rocking. “Was she a no-show?”

“Oh, she showed. Left a souvenir, too, as her water broke right in front of the postcard display. Patty’s only seven months along, so nobody expected this to happen.”

“Shit.” Two months early, even to Ward’s limited knowledge, didn’t sound good. “Zane, help me finish emptying this truck bed. Just be sure you stack each type of liquor separately. It’s gonna get off-the-hook busy soon. Need to keep everything sorted.”

“Gotcha.” Zane stacked two cases on top of each other. “But don’t get used to bossing me around. There’s a definite expiration on my taking orders from you.”

Casey picked up a box of shirts and walked with them. “Joel rushed Patty to Geneva General Hospital, and is staying with her until her husband gets off shift. Dawn’s stuck at Cosgrove’s for the day.”

“Back up,” Ward demanded. “Joel was with Dawn? When she opened the store at the crack of ass this morning?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Casey said with a suggestive wink and grind of her hips.

That was interesting. Ward didn’t keep track of his friends’ love lives the way the girls did. They were crazy obsessive over every damn detail. Stupid stuff, like demanding to know what each person ordered on a dinner date. Whereas Ward could care less to hear if Casey’s date had ordered a Caesar salad or a wedge.

But since he and Piper had accompanied Joel and Dawn on their official first date exactly one week ago, it was kind of surprising to hear they were already spending the night together. Huh. Joel was getting lucky with a woman he’d secretly wanted for only about four years. Ward’s hots for Piper had lasted ten whole years, and he’d only made it to first base with her in the past week. That sure as shit wasn’t fair. Plus, he hadn’t even had a chance to rib Joel about it.

“You’ve got a prime location here.” Zane took a long, exaggerated whiff of the air as he slit open the cartons. “That barbecue will draw people to this end of the festival faster than bimbo groupies flock to rock stars.”

“You have some personal experience with rock stars or groupies?”

“Based on going to concerts as a teenager, hoping to score and watching all the girls flock backstage? Oh, yeah.”

Ward ripped open a sleeve containing plastic shot glasses. “That probably had less to do with the rock stars and more to do with you being a nerd, Professor.”

“Not an entirely unfounded hypothesis. Anyway, you’ve got the porta-johns fifty feet away, thirst-inducing barbecue smokers and the cupcake lady across the way. An ideal lineup of neighbors.”

“I’ll bet Ward misses his real neighbor,” Casey said slyly. “The Morrissey Vineyards booth is way down at the opposite end of the festival.”

He’d been thanking his lucky stars for that all morning. “Piper’s not talking to me.”

Casey snort-laughed as she unzipped the canvas money bag and ripped the wrappers off stacks of ones. “Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.”

“I’m serious. She’s given me the full cold-shoulder treatment. Won’t yell at me. Won’t return my calls or texts.” It pissed him off, actually. Ward got that Piper was mad at him. But he had no clue why. If she didn’t talk to him, how could he fix it? Her silence was just making things worse. How was he supposed to convince her that they belonged together in the next twenty-two days if he couldn’t even talk to her? “Didn’t she tell you?”

“There might have been a mention.”

Now they were getting somewhere. He measured out identical towers of twenty shot glasses along the back edge of the counter. “Of what?”

“Your general jackassery?”

This time Zane was the one who laughed. Ward shot him a glare. Wordlessly—and wisely—Zane turned on his heel for another trip to the truck. “What the hell did I do?”

Casey rolled her eyes. “Very funny.” She slid the bills into the cash box and started on the stack of fives.

“Not one bit funny. Not from where I’m standing.”

“If you think I’m sticking my nose in the middle of you two and your fight, you’re nuts. I didn’t pick sides when you broke up all those years ago, and I’m not doing it now. Work it out yourselves.”

“Can’t do that if she won’t tell me what I did wrong.” Ward grabbed the cash from her. Stuffed it under the counter and pulled her down to sit on the two folding chairs at the back of the booth. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Case, I’m asking for your help. Honest to God, I don’t know what’s got her panties in a twist. The only thing I know is that the longer this teenaged behavior lasts, the pissier I’m getting. Don’t pick sides. Don’t bother to tell me the eighteen names she called me. Just lay out the facts.”

“You’re not putting me on? You really don’t know what set her off?”

“If I did, I’d be busting my ass to make it right.” Or pointing out where she’d overreacted. But either way, he’d do
something.

“Awww.” She patted his knee gently. “I forgot that you’re a man and can be totally clueless.”

“I told you to keep the insults to yourself.”

Casey stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. “Okay. Here’s the deal. You let that giggly Asian guy flirt with you.”

Ward almost swallowed his own tongue. “The hell I did! And Piper, of all people, shouldn’t need to be told that I’m not gay.”

“Don’t worry—we’ve all heard the stories of your epic kissing skills. She knows you’re not gay. But you didn’t stop him from flirting with you.”

Right. Might as well ask him to stop global warming, too. Since he had equally zero idea of how to do either one. “I repeat, I’m not gay. I have no idea if a guy’s flirting with me. What does that even look like?”

“Whatever happened on Friday—
that’s
what it looks like. Anyway, his flirting’s just the tip of the iceberg. She’s not talking to you because you stole her feature in
WWLL
.”

Ward pushed back with his heels until his chair teetered on only two legs. That was how much Casey’s statement had thrown him for a loop. “Swear to God I didn’t, Case.”

She raised her right hand and began to tick off points on her fingers. “Didn’t you take the giggler back to your distillery? Isn’t he stopping the presses to get you into the December issue?”

“Well, yeah.”

A third finger popped up. “Didn’t he come out here to shine a big, bright spotlight on Piper and Morrissey Vineyards and turn her into a winealicious star?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you, at any point, channel your inner good-boyfriend sense and tell him to forget about your business and focus on Piper?”

“Yes,” he snapped out, defensive. “At first.” Then, when Casey just raised an eyebrow at him, Ward thought a little longer and a little harder. “I mean, not flat out or anything. But—”

She wagged her index finger so close to his nose he felt the stir of air on his cheeks. “No buts.”

How could this be the reason behind Piper’s big freeze-out? “But that doesn’t make sense. Piper kept throwing stuff at Hiromi about the distillery. She made me talk about it. She was the one pimping my business out.”

Casey’s lips pursed. “You know what? I’m sure she did. Probably had the best of intentions to get you a mention, too. Just a mention, though. Only a mention. And certainly not at the expense of her feature.”

Damn it. Yeah, if he came at it from that direction, it all added up for him. Sort of. It explained her side of why she’d be annoyed. It didn’t explain the total shutdown of communications.

“Got any advice on what I should do now?”

“Huh-uh. I told you, I’m not picking sides.”

He didn’t want the secrets to all womankind. Just a heads-up on how to get his girlfriend to freaking listen to him. Ward tugged at the bottom of her braid. “C’mon, Casey. I thought you wanted us to be happy. Clearly Piper and I would both need a GPS to even get close to the neighborhood of happy right now.”

“Are you manipulating me?”

“Depends on if it’s working or not.”

“Rats. I do want you guys happy, and you know it. Here’s the deal, though: you can’t let on that I told you anything.”

“Done.” He knew Casey would come through for him. “So how do I get Piper to listen to me?”

“Easy. You don’t give her a choice.”

Advice that simple sounded like a smartass, tossed-off answer. Until Ward realized it would work because it was so simple. “Can you and Zane finishing setting up here?”

She nodded. “Go.”

Ward dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and then strode off. He didn’t bother to wave hello at the other vendors he passed. No time to be friendly or shoot the breeze. He was a man on a mission. So he kept his head down as he traversed the length of the festival. Even without looking up, it was easy to know once he hit the Morrissey Vineyard booth. It was three times as long as everyone else’s and tented. At the first sight of a tent pole he veered back, past shoulder-high stacks of Cabernet boxes. And stopped at the pair of shiny brown leather boots with high heels that only a masochist—or a fashion-obsessed woman—would wear to stand and work in all day.

Lifting his head, he asked, “Are you ready to talk to me yet?”

Piper stared daggers back. Nothing more.

“Fine. You don’t have to talk. I just need you to listen.” Ward hinged forward, put his shoulder against her belly and lifted. He banded one arm around her thighs and clamped a hand on her ass. Then he walked into the grove of trees behind the tent. She didn’t kick. Didn’t swear. Probably didn’t want to make any more of a spectacle. He’d been counting on that.

Once they were out of earshot, he set her down. “Just. Listen,” he repeated.

Piper didn’t look like she planned to bolt. Still, he kept his hand tight around her wrists to make sure of it.

“I’ve been thinking. Had some time on my hands to do that, what with my girlfriend not speaking to me. It occurred to me that we need a signal.”

Ward could almost see her stubbornness and curiosity warring behind her fierce blue eyes. Curiosity won.

“What are you talking about?” she finally asked in a clipped tone.

“You know, when a couple goes to a party and they arrange a signal in case they need a rescue from a boring person? We need one of those. A signal that the situation calls for a time out so we can get on the same page.” Ward rubbed a silky strand of her hair between his fingers. Couldn’t help himself. “If we had a signal, then one of us could’ve used it on Friday. You could’ve pulled me aside and told me that you didn’t want me to talk to Hiromi, for instance. I could’ve used it to ask why you kept pushing me at him.”

Piper looked down at the ground. Bit her lower lip, glossy and orange today to match her pumpkin-colored sweater. “I wanted you to talk to him.”

“Okay. Means I read that signal right.” Which was a load off of his mind. The woman had been his best friend for more than a decade. It seemed impossible that he’d read her so wrong. “So what’s with the two days of radio silence?” Ward shifted his grip to slowly stroke his thumb across the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist. “If you wanted me to talk to him, Piper, why am I in the doghouse?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah. This cold shoulder of yours is high-school bullshit. Or what you’d pull if we were still sniping at each other every five minutes. Didn’t you promise to give this—us—your best shot?”