Last of the Vintage

by Kerry J Charles

  “You would look great in that,” Dulcie said aloud.

  “Thanks. I know it’s pretty plain, but I don’t like to draw attention to myself. I already get too much attention as it is.” The words were not said in false modesty.

  “I think it would be perfect. Besides, you husband should be getting the bulk of the attention, at least for part of the evening.”

  Samantha brightened for a moment. “That’s true. Plus, I want to sneak away and just look at the paintings. I’m more interested in the exhibit than any of that wine business. I’ve been studying historical climate change.”

  “Now that’s interesting! I’ll take you on a personal tour when you arrive,” Dulcie replied. She turned back to the mirror. “Do you think it’s too much? I’m not usually a red person.”

  Samantha laughed. “I think you’re about to become one,” she said.

  #

  In his hotel room, Brendan MacArthur was carefully pressing his suit. He thought about Dulcie. Had he given her enough time to get the word out? He knew how efficient she was, so the answer was probably a yes.

  Brendan had planned everything down to the last detail. The quick conversation with Dulcie. The limited time before the event. All this would add up to many breathless conversations over a very short period of time, and that would stir up interest, along with plenty of gossip, about the Château Lafite Rothschild.

  He thought about his recent dive in the icy Maine waters. It had been a bit of a risk to go down at this time of year, but he had to retrieve the rest of the bottles quickly if he was going to sell them. He hadn’t told his diving buddies much about the wine, other than to say that he thought it might be worth something. They knew what that could mean.

  The only part of the venture that he didn’t like was sharing the profits. He never enjoyed that. Brendan had come from money. He delighted in money. He spent it at a nearly reckless pace. Coming by more was increasingly a problem.

  He looked across the room at the one bottle he had with him. The rest were safely hidden away. It reminded him of the other problem that he had, even greater than sharing the spoils. Had he taken care of that sufficiently?

  An acrid smell brought him back to his senses and he quickly lifted the iron off the pant leg it had been resting on. A faint, triangular imprint remained pressed into the expensive Italian wool fabric. “Dammit,” Brendan muttered. He turned around, picked up the phone and called the hotel concierge. He would know what to do about it. They knew everything. Brendan shook his head slightly thinking, ‘Should have left it with him in the first place instead of ironing myself.’ He had always hated ironing but, when forced to economize, sending out clothes simply to be freshened and pressed was an extravagance. He despised economizing.

  Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes.

  Art is knowing which ones to keep.

  ― Scott Adams

  CHAPTER 5

  “Dulcie, what do we have in store tonight?” The voice boomed into Dulcie’s office followed by a very tanned Dan Chambers. She stood up from her desk, gave him a quick hug, and promptly sat down again.

  “Dan you look fabulous. And relaxed, although I’ve never seen you actually tense so that’s nothing new. Had fun, I assume?” She was reading through a list of names as she spoke.

  “Absolutely. Excellent time. Could not have enjoyed it more. I swam in shark infested waters every day.”

  “Mmmmm?” Dulcie replied, then looked up sharply. “What?!”

  “Just kidding. Thought that might get your attention. I’ll tell you all about it later. What can I do for you right now, though?”

  Dulcie exhaled loudly. She was tense, a typical feeling for her on the day of an event. “Please tell me that you’re coming tonight, and that you can get here early?” She asked.

  “Always do,” Dan said.

  “Good. Thanks. Sorry I’m distracted. I’m dealing with a last minute addition to the program that’s all good, of course. Well, mostly good, but frankly it has nothing to do with the exhibit,” she blurted out quickly.

  Dan raised his eyebrows but was silent. He knew that when Dulcie spoke at a rapid pace, she was trying not to say something.

  Dulcie hesitated. “Okay, fine. Brendan MacArthur is here.”

  A grin swept across Dan’s face. “Brendan! Wow! How long has it been?” He and Brendan were two of a kind, revelers from birth. When Dan had visited Dulcie in England, Brendan had spent more time with him than with Dulcie. “So what’s the problem with that?” he asked, finally noticing that Dulcie was not smiling.

  Dulcie sat back in her chair. “He just… he just seems to take over. It was fun at first with him. Plus, we were in school, so it didn’t really matter. But then it got old because whenever he was around, it was Brendan’s world and anyone else was simply along for the ride,” she replied.

  “Now you’re the one who’s in charge, though. This is your museum,” he gestured around the room.

  “I know, and you’re right, but here’s the thing. He will actually be the center of attention tonight. He’s donating a bottle of wine that he found in a shipwreck off Cliff Island, and it’s supposedly drinkable. A one hundred and fifty year old Château Lafite Rothschild.”

  Dan let out a long, low whistle.

  “I know!” Dulcie continued. “So I’ve turned the event tonight into a fundraiser as well as a preview of the new exhibit. Those who can afford it will be able to taste the wine.”

  “Wait a second, why would he donate something like that? It’s obviously valuable,” Dan wondered. “I think he’s a good guy, but I’m not sure he’s that selfless.”

  “He isn’t. He has more that he plans to sell to the highest bidder.”

  The realization dawned on Dan. “So this is a marketing ploy for him!” he exclaimed. “Have to say, that’s pretty clever.”

  “Brendan excels at clever,” Dulcie quipped.

  “You can say that again,” said Dan. “But getting back to the tasting, can I ask exactly what ‘afford it’ means?”

  “A five thousand dollar donation to the museum,” Dulcie said without hesitation. She had grown used to talking about large sums of money. In comparison, this one wasn’t even very big.

  “Holy cow! I’m out then!” Dan laughed but then looked at Dulcie more seriously. “You know it could be total crap. Won’t they be annoyed if it is?”

  “Maybe,” Dulcie said. “But that’s the risk they take. What they’re really paying for is the chance to go into the board room with other people who have shelled out five grand each and pretend they all know something about wine.”

  “Some of them might,” Dan countered. He was always the diplomat.

  “Yes, you’re right. Some of them. And, I’m allowing the ones who don’t the opportunity to save face. I’m bringing in a professional sommelier to give his expert opinion first.”

  “Do you know if it’s any good at all? Has anyone tried it?” Dan asked.

  “Brendan has. He says it’s good. He’s no somm, but he does know a lot about wine. And it pains me to admit that his palette is better than mine,” Dulcie grimaced.

  “You sound like such a snob now, Dulcie!” Dan stood up and headed for the door. “No worries, though. I’ll keep Brendan well occupied and out of your hair.” He stopped in the doorway and turned back around. “But I do it for a price,” he added.

  “Really?” Dulcie said suspiciously. “What’s that?”

  “I get to taste the wine, too. I figure reining in that rowdy Scotsman is worth at least the equivalent of five grand.”

  “It’s actually worth more, but I’ll never admit to that,” Dulcie replied. “Thanks, Dan” she added.

  “Anytime,” he said, sauntering away. Dulcie heard Rachel’s giggle from the gallery outside and just shook her head. Dan would never stop being the flirt.

  Dulcie locked her office door, drew the shade and walked over to the small closet in the corner. She opened it and carefully pulled out the new
red dress. She took a deep breath, holding it up in front of her and looking down at it. “I suppose I have no other options,” she murmured. She had deliberately brought only this one dress so that she wouldn’t be able to change her mind at the last moment.

  She slipped off her clothes and quickly put it in, barely being able to zip it up in the back on her own. She pulled on stockings, hiking them up underneath the skirt. After slipping on her pumps, she finally allowed herself to look in the full-length mirror inside the closet door. Now she saw that she had managed to get the hem of her skirt stuck in the waistband of her hose, exposing her underwear. “Good job!” she told herself sarcastically.

  She pulled the skirt out and fluffed it around her, looking in the mirror again. “Not bad,” she finally admitted aloud. It certainly was very red. ‘If I’m going to withstand Brendan MacArthur though, I’ll need all the red I can get,’ she thought. She brushed her hair and pulled the top and sides back into a barrette leaving the rest down. A little eyeliner and mascara finished the job. ‘There,’ she thought. ‘Quite presentable.’

  The skirt wafted around her legs as she walked toward the window and opened the shade again. Continuing to the door, she unlocked and opened it just as Rachel was about to knock.

  With her hand still held up she stepped back. Her eyes opened widely. “Wow!” she said. “You clean up good!”

  Dulcie snorted. “Trying to push myself a little here,” she admitted.

  “And I’m sure having an ex-boyfriend and a current boyfriend at the same event has nothing to do with it?” Rachel asked sweetly.

  “Do not push your luck,” Dulcie said with narrowed eyes, but then laughed. “Seriously, does it work?” she asked looking down at herself.

  Rachel nodded. “Totally works. You’re not wearing earrings, though?”

  “Arghh,” Duclie exclaimed. She went back to her desk and dug through her purse until she found the white gold studs she’d plucked from her jewelry box at the last second that morning. “Okay, done!” she said checking herself one last time in the mirror before closing the closet door.

  “Perfect,” Rachel added. “The belle of the ball. Now back to work.” She handed Dulcie a clipboard. “Revised guest list. We got a couple of last-minute phone calls. Plus two more checks for the wine tasting. Are we gonna have enough of that stuff?” she asked.

  “I didn’t think that would actually be a problem, but now…,” she glanced at the number of names on the list and nodded. “I think we will. We managed to locate what are probably the smallest glasses in the city of Portland. We should be okay, just barely. I’ll go without, and I’ll make Dan do the same if need be.”

  “Dan donated five thousand dollars?” Rachel exclaimed.

  “No. Long story. You don’t want to know,” Dulcie muttered, looking over the list more closely. “Huh! Geoffrey Spratt? Haven’t seen him in a while. And this is his nephew, I think? Patrick?”

  “Right,” Rachel replied looking at where Dulcie was pointing. “Don’t think we’ve ever seen him here before. Not that I know of anyway. As for Uncle Geoffrey, I didn’t know he ventured forth in the winter. I’ve never seen him at anything but a summer event. Figured he went somewhere like the sunny Caribbean, or at least Florida, at the first hint of frost.”

  “Me too,” Dulcie replied thoughtfully. She handed the list back to Rachel. “All right. To your battle stations!”

  Rachel giggled as Dulcie headed toward the main gallery. She drifted forward in a red cloud, looking like she had just stepped out of an Italian Renaissance painting.

  “You look stunning!” A voice whispered from behind Dulcie as she felt a hand touch her back. She whirled around and smiled at Nick.

  “And you’re looking quite dapper yourself!” she agreed.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I brought…,” he didn’t have time to finish the sentence before Johnson came clomping up behind him.

  “Dulcie! Great to see you! You’re looking fantastic! Really!” He cleared his throat. The pause was obvious.

  Dulcie suddenly remembered. The weight loss clinic. “Never mind me Adam, you are looking quite svelte!” It was a blatant lie, but Johnson beamed anyway. He visibly sucked in his stomach.

  “Been working hard on it, and I must say, I’m feeling very fit! The wife says she doesn’t even recognize me!” He leaned toward Dulcie. “I even had to buy new pants!” He whispered loudly.

  Dulcie thought she heard Nick groan. “Adam, you should be quite proud of yourself. You’ve done very well. Losing weight isn’t easy.”

  Johnson nodded emphatically. He was eyeing the hors d'oeuvres already. “Is that shrimp I see? Good source of protein and low in fat. Be right back!” He moved speedily toward the table.

  Dulcie turned to Nick. “How long do you give him before he’s wearing the old pants again?” she asked.

  “Six months, max,” he grinned. “But ‘A’ for effort!” He scanned the room. His face darkened. “Which one is our guest of honor?” he asked.

  “I’d hardly call him that,” Dulcie answered. “He’s over there, talking to Dan.” She pointed as inconspicuously as she could.

  As though they both had heard her, they looked over. “Dammit,” breathed Dulcie. “Here they come.”

  Nick sized up Brendan MacArthur as he confidently strode across the room. ‘Cocky’ was the first word that popped into his head. Nick had learned to trust first impressions.

  As the two men reached them, Brendan leaned in and gave Dulcie a firm kiss on the cheek. “Aye, there’s me lassie!” he exclaimed. “And looking as bonnie and bright as the sunset over Skye!”

  In spite of herself, Dulcie blushed. Nick noticed. Now he was annoyed.

  Dan stepped in. “Nick! Good to see you again! He stuck his arm in front of Brendan, effectively separating him from Dulcie, and shook Nick’s hand. “Been at the boat show down in Florida. Saw a couple of yachts I wouldn’t mind having!” He was still pumping Nick’s fist. As he finally let go he gestured toward Brendan who had to step back so that he wouldn’t be hit by Dan’s flying arm. “Oh, sorry about my manners! Dulcie’s always telling me to be more polite. This is a friend from across the pond. Brendan Macarthur. Brendan, this is Nicholas Black, Dulcie’s boyfriend.”

  Dulcie realized that she’d been holding her breath and exhaled as quietly as possible. She looked at Dan and quickly mouthed, ‘thank you’ as the two others shook hands. She was grateful that Dan had worked in the word ‘boyfriend’ getting some of the awkwardness out of the way.

  “You have a good one here, and that’s no lie,” Brendan announced. “I was sad to have lost her,” he added.

  Nick didn’t like Brendan’s comments. He didn’t like Brendan. Something about him seemed disingenuous, in spite of the fact that he looked sincere. Nick filed it away for future reference.

  “I hear you’re a diver,” he said, blatantly changing the subject.

  “Aye! Love being on the sea and in the sea! And I’ve been diving in every one of our seven seas. It’s a hobby that’s gone mad,” he replied, raking his hand through his roguish red hair. He looked over at Dulcie and winked.

  She jumped in. “Brendan has made it more than a hobby, though. He’s turned wreck diving into a career,” she said.

  ‘Yeah, because he sells all the spoils that he can,’ thought Nick. “That’s the best way to go about it,” he replied instead. “Turn a hobby into a career.”

  “Exactly what I did,” Dan added. “Hasn’t made me rich, but then I can rarely complain, either. Hey,” he looked across the room and waved at someone. “Is that Johnson? Or his thinner brother?” Johnson approached grinning.

  “Must be his buff brother!” Johnson replied holding an enormous plate of shrimp.

  Before Dulcie could introduce Adam Johnson to Brendan she saw Dan look across the room again. His jaw dropped. “Wow! Is that who I think it is?”

  Dulcie turned around. She noticed that half the room had done the same. Mostly the male half
. Taking off her coat and accepting a glass of champagne was Samantha Sanders. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in a mass of curls. The plain sheath that Dulcie had seen her with at the dress shop fitted her curves like a glove. Her skin glowed and she smiled softly, almost shyly, as the man beside her spoke to the waiter carrying the tray of champagne. ‘She has absolutely no idea of her effect,’ Dulcie thought. She glanced at Nick. He was staring at the woman too, but not in the same way as Dan or Brendan.

  ‘Victim’ was the word that entered Nick’s head now. It was an odd word to apply to a woman how obviously had so much presence that she could gain the attention of an entire room without even speaking. That kind of presence was usually synonymous with power. Not in this case, Nick believed.

  Suddenly remembering, Dan snapped his fingers loudly. The sound seemed to break the spell for everyone around him. “I know who that is! It’s the Weather Girl!” he exclaimed.

  “Weather Forecaster,” Nick and Dulcie both corrected at once. They glanced at each other, trying not to smile.

  Dulcie cleared her throat. “That’s our sommelier for tonight as well. Excuse me gentlemen, I need to speak with them.” She had effectively dismissed them, even Nick. This was her job, after all.

  “Samantha! Good to see you again! And you must be Jeremy,” they heard her say. She guided the two across the room, talking the entire time. Nick noticed that she moved them as far away as possible. He knew that it was not because she feared Dan’s reaction. Dan may have been known for his appreciation of women, but he never overstepped the bounds of decorum. Dulcie must have had another reason for steering clear.

  Then Nick looked over at Brendan. He was still staring. His eyes gleamed like a predator on the hunt, waiting to pounce, his prey in sight.

  This was certainly going to be an interesting night, Nick thought. He tried to catch Johnson’s eye to see if he had noticed the same thing. Unfortunately, he was too engrossed in his shrimp.