So Far Into You by Lily Malone

properly or they haven’t been shown , or they only did what their supervisor told them to do.’
    â€˜I’ve never had any problem with taking responsibility, Mrs Lasrey,’ Remy said, fighting a mix of frustration, panic, and the growing urge to have a damn good cry. She didn’t cry often, but it had been a shitty, shitty day—the queen of shitty days—and it wasn’t getting any better.
    â€˜Good.’ Ailsa smiled a smile so cold, it burned. ‘You weren’t concentrating on your job this morning and you mixed up the wrong chemical because you were a million miles away—caught up in some fool’s dream involving my son. And this time, I don’t mean Blake.’
    The words were like a scalpel laying the truth bare, all Remy could do was blink.
    Ailsa inhaled: long, deliberate. Then she exhaled, hard and fast. ‘In my opinion you should never have been employed here in the first place, but I let Greg Trimble recommend you, and the board chose you against my better judgement. I want your resignation. I’ll even say please.’
    An image of Doug Mulvraney’s weasel face filled Remy’s mind. Her crappy rental house. That ugly hulking hedge. Lexie hefting supermarket boxes late on Sunday nights. Bills on the fridge.
    Resigning wasn’t an option. Not without something to go to. And what winery would employ her now, after this?
    â€˜I need this job. Please. I have financial obligations.’ Debts to a man who makes you look like a cuddly toy.
    â€˜You think you’re out of pocket,’ Ailsa said, voice rising. ‘You poison my flagship vines. Cost me a small fortune in man-hours trying to fix-up your error. If we can’t fix it then my insurance excess and premiums all go up—not to mention the wine we can’t make for years from the cabernet block.’ Ailsa fingered the rectangle of paper she’d pulled from the file. It was upside-down on the table and she pushed it back and forth.
    â€˜The vines might not be that bad, Mrs Lasrey. Greg has a plan—’
    â€˜For a smart girl you’re being very stupid.’ Ailsa’s finger stabbed the table once, diamonds flashing beneath the overhead lights. ‘No winery in Margaret River will employ you after this. There’s no happy ending here, Remy. I saw you in Seth’s office last night. I saw the look on your face. I’ve seen it before. Girls have been throwing themselves at him since he was in high school. You do know he’s about to get engaged, don’t you?’
    â€˜I didn’t throw myself at anyone …’ and then the last word snagged in her head. Engaged?
    Suddenly, Remy felt very, very tired and she just wanted this finished. All the emotions she’d weathered since Seth shielded her from the storm on Saturday imploded and fell flat, like fallout from a mushroom cloud. She’d been an idiot, quite obviously, in more ways than one.
    â€˜Everyone who works here knows about Helene, except you,’ Ailsa said. ‘That’s why Seth’s gone to France. Helene Bouchard is the daughter of our oak supplier. Bouchard is the most prestigious barrel manufacturer in France. She and Seth have been lovers for years. Helene understands him. Hers is a great wine legacy, too. Such a wonderful family …’
    â€˜He said he was going to an exhibition. Vinitech.’
    â€˜Oh, he is. That’s first. He’ll be finished with that in a few days. The rest of the time he’ll be at the Bouchard Cooperage with Helene.’
    Adieu, Helene. Remy remembered his farewell on the phone yesterday as clearly as if Seth had been in the room. She pushed up from her seat, not wanting Ailsa to see how much she hurt. This time, she made it to her feet. ‘I won’t waste any more of your time, Mrs Lasrey. I assume I shouldn’t bother coming in for work tomorrow?’
    â€˜There’s just one final matter.’ Ailsa