“This chicken is delicious, Rebecca,” Derek said, and patted his mouth with the napkin. He could tell I was annoyed and was trying to change the subject.
I flashed him an appreciative smile.
“Thank you, Derek,” Mom said. “You’re so sweet.”
“He speaks the truth,” Dad declared, and reached for another piece. “Becky’s always had a way with chicken.”
Austin grinned. “Every kid in school wanted to come home with us on fried chicken day.”
“And the lasagna was awesome,” I added.
Mom beamed. There was nothing she liked better than having her family around her and all of the compliments were really making her shine.
I took a sip of wine. “Mom, I meant to ask you. Who’s that young guy on your committee? Blond hair, preppy looking, one of the ‘nay’ votes.”
“That’s Ryan.” She smiled wistfully. “He’s a sweet boy, but he doesn’t have much of a personality and he’s not very, um, creative. He’s Shandi Patrick’s personal assistant and he only joined the committee in order to make sure we do everything we can to support her.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.” Mom wore a look of frustration. “When he first joined, I was encouraged that someone young and new to Dharma would be interested in helping with the book festival. It gave me some hope.”
“I get that,” Robin said. “You want some fresh blood.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Mom said. “He’s quite interesting on paper. He served in the military, and besides being her assistant, he’s also her bodyguard and in-house chef.”
“Wow, I want one of those,” Robin said.
Mom sighed. “But I’ve been so disappointed in him. I hate to say it, but Ryan seems very dull. He has no opinion on anything. He only tells us what Shandi wants. It’s as if he lives his life through her.”
I shrugged. “I guess that makes him a good assistant. But why did he vote ‘nay’?”
Now she scowled. “Probably because Shandi and Jacob were friends.” Mom used air quotes when she said the word friends.
I stared at her. “You said they were friends. Are they still?”
Mom held up both hands. “It’s complicated. A few months ago, Shandi started talking up Jacob’s company.”
“Shandi Patrick is hawking box wine?” Robin said. “Doesn’t that go against the reputation she’s tried to create for herself?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Robin frowned. “When she first moved here, everyone made a big deal about her investing in Glenmaron Winery.”
“For good reason,” Austin said, taking up the story. “Glenmaron is one of the premier wineries in Sonoma County. They consistently get high ratings in all the trade magazines. So when the Hollywood press found out about Shandi’s new venture with Glenmaron, the news hounds converged on Dharma and interviewed anyone who would talk to them about Shandi. Everyone raved about her good taste and business acumen.”
“Hmm,” Gabriel said. “Wonder how the Hollywood elite would react to the box wine news.”
“Good question,” Dad said. “I’m guessing they would tear her reputation to shreds.”
“But the Hollywood press hasn’t come around yet,” Robin said.
“Are people around town talking about it?” I asked.
“Something else is going on,” Mom said cryptically.
We all stared at her for a long moment.
“Well, don’t just sit there, spill,” I demanded, sitting on the edge of my seat.
“Late this afternoon Shandi was seen storming into the bank after Jacob Banyan,” Mom revealed. “They had a big argument and then walked out together. Or rather, she dragged him out of there.”
There was silence again, then I asked, “How do you hear about these things?”
She gazed at me. “Remember my friend Benny?”
“Of course.” I blinked at the realization. “He works at the bank.”
“Exactly. Well, Benny called me this afternoon, right after you two dropped me off and went home.”
“I was wondering who that call was from,” Dad said.
“I was going to tell you,” she explained, “but the kids came back just then.”
We were only gone a few minutes, I thought. Bad timing. “Mom, why did he call you?”
She lifted her shoulders in a defensive move. “Because he’s my friend and he knows about my problems with Jacob Banyan. If Banyan’s trying to destroy Glenmaron along with all the other wineries, that’s one more reason to keep him out of the festival.”
My head was spinning with this news so I had to think fast. “If that happened late this afternoon, it was probably around the same time that your committee was voting whether to include Banyan in the festival or not. So Ryan wouldn’t have known that Shandi was angry with Banyan.”
“So he voted nay in support of Banyan,” Derek said. “It starts to makes sense.”
I frowned at Dad. “Would Banyan actually try to foreclose on Shandi’s winery?”
“It would be a fool’s move,” Dad said.
“Well, he is a big fool,” Mom muttered.
“Dad, do you really think Glenmaron is in trouble?”
“I would probably have heard if they were in deep financial trouble and I’ve heard nothing.” He swirled his wine and gazed at the way the liquid coated the inside of the glass. “But even if they were, Shandi’s partners at Glenmaron are more powerful than the other owners that Banyan has foreclosed on. And Shandi is a force to be reckoned with on her own. He wouldn’t have a chance.”
Mom nodded. “It’s complicated by the fact that the last thing Shandi wants is for people to find out that Glenmaron might be in trouble. She just can’t afford to have that happen.”
“Why?” Robin asked.
Mom took a deep breath. “Benny said she’s been trying to raise enough capital to finance a movie and make a Hollywood comeback.”
“Seriously?” I shook my head.
Robin frowned. “I wonder why she came here in the first place if she just wants to go back to Hollywood.”
Dad shrugged. “A lot of people around here think that she only bought into Glenmaron Winery for the résumé.”
That was fairly common. Plenty of people only got into the wine business to impress others. These types had very little interest in actually growing grapes and learning about the art and craft and science of winemaking. They couldn’t care less about things like terroir, meteorological data, or soil type. They didn’t give a hoot about oak barrels versus concrete tanks, or plastic corks versus real corks. They just wanted to be able to say they owned a winery. Maybe they liked to drink wine, but they didn’t actually want to make wine.
They just wanted to add it to their résumé.
“You know how I feel about those résumé types,” Mom said. “There are just too many of them in the wine country. So it would be a real shame if Shandi turned out to be one of them. Maybe it wouldn’t affect her Hollywood reputation, but it would certainly damage her status around here.”
Robin sipped her water. “So what happens if she moves back to Hollywood? Will she have to admit that she’s simply been dabbling in the wine business or will she pretend that she wants to do both?”
It’s hard to feel sympathy for a rich poser, I thought. But since I’ve never met the woman, I suppose it would be fair to withhold judgment. But when has that ever been my style? I grinned at my thoughts.
“Good question,” Mom said. “If she moves back to Hollywood, we might not ever see her again. And that’s why I don’t trust Shandi Patrick.”
Austin gave her a long look. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
Mom blew out a breath, then took in another one and I knew she was trying to center herself. “I’ve been working with these peopl
e for a year now. That’s a lot of time to get to know their foibles.”
She sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and did some more deep breathing. “When this is over I’m going to need a full-tilt Panchakarma cleansing and a detoxification session at the Laughing Goat sweat lodge.”
“Maybe Robin can join you,” I suggested.
“What? Wait. Whoa,” Austin sputtered. “That can’t be good for the baby.”
I laughed until my sides hurt. Panchakarma was an Ayurvedic cleansing treatment that often included purging and high colonics. It was said to be the best way to clean out every orifice and purify the body of toxins.
Or you could just eat twelve chili dogs.
Robin patted Austin’s arm, Mom chuckled at her son’s horrified expression, and I couldn’t help laughing all over again. Derek winked at me and I reached out to squeeze his hand.
I finally sighed. “It feels good to laugh.”
“At my expense,” Robin said, elbowing me. But she was grinning, too.
When the doorbell rang, instead of being exasperated with the interruption, Mom looked relieved. “It’s about time.”
I looked at Derek. “About time for what?”
“No idea.”
I looked at my mother. “Mom? What’s going on?”
“You’ll see.”
Dad pushed away from the table and went to answer the door. “Hey, come on in.”
“Are we late?”
“Right on time,” Dad said, and walked with the new arrivals to the dining room. “Look who’s here!”
“It’s Meg and John.” I jumped up from the table and turned to Mom. “You knew they were coming?”
“Of course.”
She was already hugging Meg when Derek stood up and grabbed his father in a big hug.
“Hello, son,” John Stone said, grinning broadly. He was as tall and handsome as Derek, with streaks of gray hair along his temples that only made him look more distinguished.
“Dad, it’s so good to see you,” Derek said.
“You, too.”
Then John embraced me warmly and Derek pulled his mother into his arms. “Hello, Mum.”
“Darling son,” she whispered, and held him tightly for a long moment. Then she leaned back, reached up, and pressed her hand to his cheek. “Oh, it’s so good to be here with all of you. We haven’t seen you since your wedding.”
“I’m so glad to see you both,” Derek said. “And as always, you look beautiful.”
“Oh, you’re silly,” she demurred. “But I love you for saying so.”
“I’m never silly,” Derek said soberly, then grinned at her.
“Derek’s right,” I said, when it was my turn to give Meg a hug. Much like my own mother, the woman didn’t seem to age. She had clear blue eyes, a wonderful smile, and she wore her platinum gray hair in a chic bob. She was almost as tall as me, which meant she was around five foot seven. “You look fabulous.”
“And so do you, you sweet thing.” Meg glanced around the table and waved everyone back. “Now, we can have a gabfest later, but right now you should all sit and finish your dinner. We’ll be here on the sidelines, kibitzing.”
“We’re practically finished,” I said, brushing off her concerns. “I’ll start clearing the table so you can join us.”
“I’ll help you, love,” Derek said.
“Oh, you stay and chat with your parents. This will only take a minute or two.”
I began collecting the serving platters and salad bowl.
“I’ve got coffee brewing,” Mom said. “Unless you’d like tea.”
“I’ll fix the tea,” Meg said. “John, you sit and relax with Jim and the boys.”
I smiled at Derek. He and Austin were the boys, I guess.
It was great that our families had connected as well as they had. Our parents had become good friends and I couldn’t think of anything better than having Derek’s folks living half the year here in Dharma.
Meg was obviously familiar with and comfortable in my parents’ home, and that made me happy. Meg and my mom had clicked from the first time they met a few months ago, just before our wedding. They were like sisters separated at birth, their interests and feelings were so similar. They loved books and cooking and traveling and music, and they both had big, loving families. And both women considered themselves psychic, which was just plain scary, but entertaining as heck.
I gazed at Mom as I came back for more dishes. “So you decided to surprise us with Meg and John?”
She smiled. “They already had plans for dinner tonight at Arugula with Dalton but said they might stop by afterwards.”
Dalton was Derek’s younger brother, the last of five sons. He had met and fallen in love with my sister Savannah a year or so ago and now he lived with her in Dharma. So Meg and John had even more reason to own a house here as well as their place in England.
Austin brought two more chairs to the table and John had a seat while Meg finished making tea.
Dad handed John a glass of wine. “This is the new Pinot I was telling you about.”
“It’s marvelous,” he said after taking a sip. Glancing around, he added, “Now what were you all talking about before we so rudely interrupted your dinner?”
I wasn’t about to bring up the subject of cults or psychopaths again. Instead Robin said, “We’re going to have a baby.”
“That’s wonderful!” John cried, and raised his glass in a toast. “Congratulations.”
Meg came running in from the kitchen. “Oh, what happy news! I’m so pleased for both of you.”
“Thanks, Meg,” Austin said, grinning as he kissed Robin’s hand. “We’re very excited.”
“Of course you are,” she said, and leaned down to capture Robin’s face between her hands before kissing her forehead. “I’ll make you a cup of my special sweet tea. Becky has all the ingredients I’ll need. I drank it through every one of my pregnancies. It’s very soothing, if you know what I mean.”
She rubbed her stomach and gave Robin a meaningful look. I assumed she meant morning sickness.
“Sounds perfect,” Robin said, with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Meg.”
Dad opened a fresh bottle of Pinot Noir and winked at Robin. “I’m saving a bottle of this just for you, sweetheart.”
She beamed at him. “Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”
With Meg and John here, we all had a lot to say. We stayed around the table and chatted for another hour, catching up with Derek’s parents and talking about the book festival. Meg was thrilled to be sharing a booth with Mom in which she would do palm readings while Mom would give magic spells and incantations to anyone who requested help. They would both do Tarot readings. I had no doubt that theirs would be the most popular booth at the festival.
When Robin began to yawn, Austin announced that it was time to go home.
Meg and John decided they would stay and hang out with my parents for a little while longer. Derek and I headed for home after promising to visit his folks in their new house tomorrow. It’s great to be back in Dharma, I thought, with the people we love.
As we got into bed, I sighed. “I still can’t believe Robin’s going to have a baby.”
“It’s lovely news,” Derek said. “They’ll be excellent parents.”
“Oh, absolutely.” But then I frowned. “I just hope I don’t dream about pregnant women being chased up and down the supermarket aisles by a psychopath.”
“Thanks very much,” he groused. “Now that you’ve planted the seed, we’re both going to have that dream.”
“Sorry about that.” But I wasn’t and he knew it.
“Come here.” He pulled me close to his side and whispered, “Have only sweet dreams, darling.”
“You, too, love. No supermarket chases.”
He gro
aned. “You’re doing it again.”
I laughed and snuggled closer to him. And fell asleep within minutes.
* * *
• • •
When my alarm went off, I sighed, then reached blindly for my phone. “It can’t be time to get up,” I mumbled. “I don’t even remember setting the alarm.”
“It’s not your alarm,” Derek muttered. “Someone is ringing you.”
He was right. The room was still dark without even a hint of sunlight beginning to creep across the windowsill. So naturally I went into worry mode. A phone call this late at night could not be happy news.
I struggled to hit the right button, then whispered, “Hello?”
“Brooklyn, sweetie.”
“Mom.” Worry jumped to panic. “What’s wrong? Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“No, sweetie.”
I sat up in bed. “What do you need?”
Mom sighed heavily and I could almost see her biting her bottom lip, wondering how to say what I knew was going to be hard to hear.
“Oh, sweetie. A couple of hours after you left I realized my new prescription was still in my tote bag at the town hall. I’m supposed to start taking the pills first thing in the morning.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “You didn’t go there alone, did you?”
“Oh, no. Of course not. Meg drove me here.”
I grimaced while I blinked blindly at the light Derek had flipped on. He was watching me, worry etched on his face as well.
“Are you and Meg still there?”
Derek was out of bed, already reaching for his clothes. Honestly, my husband was the absolute best in a crisis. Always coolheaded, clear thinking, and ready for anything. But when he heard me say his mother’s name, he came to a dead stop. “Put it on speaker.”
I did so. “You’re on speaker, Mom, so Derek can hear, too.”
“Oh, isn’t that nice. Hi, Derek.”
I rolled my eyes. “Go ahead, Mom.”
“Right. Meg’s here and, really, we’re both fine so we don’t want either of you to worry. But Brooklyn, we have a situation and I think we need your expertise. Yours, too, Derek.”
The Grim Reader Page 7