by Joni Folger
He took the bowl Abigail carried and set it on the table, then swept her into his arms and gave her a loud, obnoxious smack on the cheek. Looking up, he grinned. “Sure, Miss Abby’s never cared for Ross much, and she likes you fine, but I happen to know that I’m Miss Abby’s favorite. Always have been.”
Elise made a face at him. “Doubtful, law-boy. She only tolerates you because you hang around and make a nuisance of yourself.”
Abigail barked out a laugh and patted Jackson’s cheek. “Jackson Landry, you are cute as a bug’s ear. I tell you, if I were thirty-five or forty years younger I’d give my baby girl there a run for her money.”
Elise made a gagging sound, and Jackson looked over and nodded. “See? Better watch your P’s and Q’s, darlin’.”
“Baby girl, my butt,” Ross spoke up in a grumble. “More like spoiled brat.”
“Now, Ross, Elise has had a couple of rough months,” Abigail said with a stern look for emphasis. “What with Edmond’s murder and her finally getting rid of that rat-bastard of a boyfriend.”
The mention of her uncle’s death had anxiety flooding Elise’s system. Of course, the mention of her ex-boyfriend, Stuart Jenkins, didn’t help either.
“Mother! For crying out loud,” Laura admonished.
“Well, she’s right, Mom,” Ross added. “Stuart is a rat-bastard. But come on, Gram, Uncle Edmond’s homicide investigation is over. How long does El get to ride that horse?”
“For a while longer, I’d say,” Abigail replied with a nod. “We could have lost her so easily. And I will remind you, with her quick thinking that day at Kohler’s winery, she not only saved herself, but you and Jackson as well. Things could have turned out so much worse than they did.”
“Yes, but she’s out of the life-saving business now,” Jackson said, sliding a calculated glance her way. “And she won’t be doing any more amateur sleuthing, either. Right, pal?”
Though there was a smile on his face, it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Elise had no trouble recognizing Jackson’s shift into police mode. “Absolutely, Deputy. All done with that now. Cross my heart.”
To be honest, she was more than ready to bring this particular conversation to an end. Any discussion on the horrible events of the summer, not to mention her “rat-bastard” ex, was something she was keen to avoid. Plus, she hadn’t told Jackson or anyone in her family about the nightmares she continued to have over her uncle’s murder.
Looking around the room, she suddenly realized there were people missing. “Hey, wait a minute. Where’s Maddy? And isn’t C.C. here? Her car’s out front.”
Abigail waved a hand toward the ceiling. “They went upstairs while we waited for you to get here. Something about a new outfit that needed to be ogled.”
As if conjuring them out of thin air with her words alone, the two women entered the dining room as Abigail finished her sentence.
“Hey, El, you finally made it. Perfect timing, because I’m starving.” Madison sat down at the table before pointing to the shopping bags Elise still held. “What’s in the bags?”
“Oh no. We’re not getting sucked into that vortex,” Ross said as he snatched the bags away from Elise and turned toward the door. “You can waste time on these later—after we’ve eaten and Gram’s had her birthday party.”
“What a buzz-kill he is,” C.C. said, sliding into the chair next to Madison.
Once Ross came back, they all sat down to eat, and Elise was relieved when the topic of conversation moved on to the upcoming Lost Pines Food and Wine Festival.
Patterned after the larger Hill Country Food and Wine Festival, the LPFW was still in its infancy, but growing fast. Vintners from all around the country were already taking notice.
River Bend was one of several sponsors, which was a big deal for the vineyard. Her gram was contact person and also in charge of their booth this year. Everyone would have a specific area of responsibility, but Elise, Madison, and C.C. would be assisting Abigail with everything from set-up to tear-down.
By the time they’d finished dinner and moved to the living room, Madison had pulled out one of her enormous planning folders.
“I finally got a complete list of entries for this year’s food and wine booths,” she said. “I swear, Marlette Casper is the sweetest woman alive, but her organizational skills are sadly lacking in so many ways. Anyway, it looks like we’ll have a great turnout this year.”
“Does that include Garrett Larson and his Third Coast Winery?” Ross asked with a twinkle in his eye.
At the mention of her high school sweetheart and his south Texas winery, Abigail made a face. “Yeah, they’re on the list, all right.”
“You don’t sound happy about that, Miss Abby,” Jackson said. “I thought Third Coast was owned by your old beau.”
Ross laughed. “Garrett Larson isn’t the problem. Gram doesn’t like the hussy he married after his wife died.”
“Ross, please don’t get her started,” Laura said with a sigh.
“Hussy is right!” Abigail growled. “That woman is a self-absorbed, gold-digging terror without a shred of decency or the common sense the good Lord gave a goose. I don’t know what in the world Garrett was thinking when he took up with her.”
Madison glanced up from her planner. “She was pretty ugly at last year’s festival. I felt so bad for Mr. Larson. He looked mortified.”
“Ugly?” Abigail folded her arms and made a pfft sound. “She sashayed up to our booth in her short skirt and baubles. Then, she proceeded to make a damn fool of herself with her poisonous comments, all the while smiling like a hyena. It was disgusting. All I can say is that Garrett better have a muzzle on her this year or somebody may take her out.”
“Mom!” Laura said, shock lacing her words. “After all the violence we endured over the summer, let’s refrain from using that kind of rhetoric, shall we?”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t. Please make an effort to keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.”
Silence reigned for a moment and the discomfort in the room was palatable. Elise felt a change in subject was in order. “Gram, why don’t you open your birthday presents? Then we can cut into that fabulous-looking cake C.C. brought with her.”
Elise gave a sigh of relief as the focus changed and the mood lightened. She sent up a quick prayer that this year’s festival wouldn’t be marred by the likes of Divia Larson.
two
Elise awoke early Monday morning to the sound of crinkling paper. Really loud crinkling paper. With a sigh, she rolled over and tried to block out the noise with her pillow. When that didn’t work, she pried one eye open and glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand, and uttered a groan when she realized it was eight minutes before her alarm was set to go off. Eight minutes she could have used after the restless night she’d had.
Yawning, she pushed back her sleep-tousled hair and tried to clear her brain long enough to zero in on where the annoying racket was coming from.
That’s when she saw him.
“Chunk!” she yelled, leaping from the bed. “Get out of that bag right now.”
True to Jackson’s words the day before, her fat devil-of-a-cat had found her new shoes. He’d tipped over one of the bags and was buried halfway inside with his butt in the air and his tail switching back and forth as he dug for buried treasure. She knew she should’ve put her purchases away the minute she’d walked in the door last night, but it had been late and she’d been exhausted.
“I don’t know what on earth is wrong with you,” she muttered. “You’ve got a huge basket of toys in the living room, yet you can’t seem to leave my shoes alone.”
Reaching into the shopping bag, she grabbed him around the middle and hauled his sixteen-pound butt out. Then, turning him around, she tried not to laugh at the disoriented look on his face
or the way he blinked up at her and meowed as if to say, “But I really want them, Mom.”
“You are in dire need of some kind of therapy, you know that?” When he gave up another pitiful meow, she cuddled him close and kissed the top of his scruffy head. “I know, buddy. Life is so dang hard, isn’t it?”
Setting him down on the bed, she quickly stuffed both shopping bags into the closet and securely closed the closet doors. At least that would keep him from doing any damage or making off with a shoe until she could store her purchases properly.
When her alarm began to blare she turned it off and shivered. Her apartment wasn’t as cozy as she normally liked and the chill quickly seeped through her thin pajamas. Although the outside temperature had been unseasonably warm lately, it had taken a tumble over the past few days.
Elise adored her little retro apartment. Built in the 1940s, it had grabbed her imagination the minute she’d clapped eyes on it—like a snapshot in time. Unfortunately, the walls weren’t all that well insulated, and the ancient radiator was a relic of that bygone era. She had a feeling it would be in need of attention again very soon. It seemed they went through the same routine every year. She’d have to remember to give Mr. and Mrs. Powers a heads up.
Her landlords, Lila and Avery Powers, owned and operated the Delphine pharmacy downstairs, which was handy when she required something fixed or wanted to drop off the rent check. They’d been very good to her, allowing her to put her own unique stamp on the space when she’d moved in.
Though the apartment hadn’t been used in years, once she’d scraped away the dust and grime, she’d found a gem waiting for her. By the time she’d finished with it, her apartment had become a fresh, unconventional mix—a kaleidoscope of color that suited her right down to the ground.
“Come on, you great, furry lump. Let’s go get you a proper breakfast and a stiff belt of caffeine for me.”
Pulling on a sweatshirt and a pair of lavender fleece-lined house shoes, she headed for the kitchen. Her spoiled bundle of fur followed close behind. The mention of food obviously took precedence over shiny new shoes, at least for the moment.
She was going to need an infusion of caffeine to jump start her system for the long day ahead. The Lost Pines Food and Wine Festival would commence on Thursday, and today was organization day out at River Bend. Elise, along with C.C., Madison, and the rest of the Beckett family, would be assisting her grandmother with getting everything ready for transport to the venue on Tuesday and Wednesday. They had a lot to accomplish in a short amount of time, but they’d been planning this weekend for several months and were well prepared.
By the time she’d fed the cat and downed half a bottle of icy-cold diet soda, she was feeling much more like herself. Grabbing another bottle from the fridge, she showered, dressed, and was walking out the door in just over an hour—which she thought might be some kind of record for her.
“Do not make a mess while I’m gone,” she told Chunk from the doorway as he sat basking in the Papasan chair in the living room. Of course, she had no illusions that he was actually paying a bit of attention to her, but at least her new shoes were now safely tucked away out of his reach. Giving up, she closed the door behind her and marched down the stairs.
The frigid north wind slapped her in the face and nearly stole her breath when she stepped out onto the sidewalk, making her glad she’d listened to the weather report this morning. Flipping up the collar on the red, knee-length wool coat that she’d thrown on over her jeans and a thick, cobalt-blue sweater, she scurried around the corner to the pharmacy door as fast as her feet would carry her.
The little bell over the door cheerfully announced her presence as she entered, and Mr. Powers looked up and smiled from the back counter. “Hello, Elise,” he called. “You’re up and out early on this chilly morning.”
“Hey, Mr. P. You got that right. It is downright brisk out there. I have a meeting about the festival at the vineyard first thing; otherwise, I’d be tempted to go in a little late and stay home out of the cold a bit longer.”
Mr. Powers laughed. “Those blue northers really know how to put an ache in your bones, don’t they?”
“You can say that again.”
“What can I do for you today?” he asked. “Besides turn up the temperature, that is.”
“Well, actually …”
“Let me guess,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “The radiator’s not pulling its weight this morning, right?”
It was Elise’s turn to chuckle. “Man, you’re good. You got it in one. Do you think you could have someone come out and check it?”
“Already done, darlin’. Charley Hawks from Claymore Heating should be out later this morning. I’m sorry that old thing has such issues. I wish we had the extra cash to change the building over to a more efficient and reliable unit.”
Elise waved a hand in the air. “No worries, Mr. P. You know I love antiques, but I guess a little more efficiency and reliability would be nice, too.”
He nodded and leaned on the counter. “How are the preparations coming for the festival? The missus and I are looking forward to spending our Saturday afternoon doing food and wine tastings.”
“Plans are moving right along. That’s what this morning’s meeting is about—where we’re at and what we have left to do by Thursday. I think Maddy has some ideas for decorations that she wants to share. Our little festival is gaining steam and some much-needed recognition.”
“Yes, I know. My cousin over in Beaumont is coming. He and his wife are foodies and belong to some wine club. Likes to think of himself as a connoisseur.” Mr. Powers made a skeptical face and Elise giggled. “Anyway, they should be here sometime tomorrow. They’re coming in a day early to visit and sponge off my hospitality.”
“Great. The more word of mouth, the better.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to feed them.” He laughed and Elise joined him.
“Well, I’d better head out. Make sure you and Mrs. P. stop by the booth on Saturday.”
He nodded and waved. “Oh, you know we will.”
She hurried out the door and got into her vehicle. Starting the car, she pulled out her day planner and made a few notes while she waited for the heater to warm up the interior. The upcoming wine festival would take place out at the Delphine fairgrounds located just on the outskirts of town. This year’s festival theme was Bountiful Fall Harvest, and she’d been tasked with putting together a quick presentation on grape varieties and their hybridization for Friday afternoon.
Elise disliked public speaking in just about any form—preferring to work in the solitude of her greenhouse—but this was for the vineyard and she would give it her best shot. Although a “quick presentation” on that particular topic would be near to impossible, she was sure she could come up with a brief overview that would satisfy the requirements in a simple yet interesting way.
The vehicle was finally warmed up twenty-five minutes later when Elise pulled onto the vineyard property. Parking outside the residence, she shut off the engine and glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard.
And then did a double-take.
She’d arrived a full fifteen minutes early for the meeting. Geez, Ross will have a stroke, she thought with a grin as she got out of the car and climbed the porch steps.
Entering the house, Elise went directly to the dining room, where all the family meetings took place. There she found her grandmother and C.C., the only ones in attendance so far.
Abigail greeted her with a smile. “Morning, baby girl.”
“Hey, Gram. Where is everyone? I know I’m early, but I can’t be the first one here.”
“No. I was the first one here,” C.C. said with a smirk.
Elise rolled her eyes and shrugged out of her coat. “You don’t count, girlfriend. You’re always early for everything you do.”
Cackli
ng, Abigail shook her head. “Your sister was here for a minute, but she got a jumbled voicemail from Lita Washington—something about the booth arrangements. She went to call her back and see what the hubbub was about. I’ve yet to see Ross, though, so you’re one up on him at least.”
Ross hadn’t shown up yet? The thought made Elise smile. The man had an obsession with punctuality that bordered on OCD and was usually ten minutes early for everything. He was always ragging on her when she was running behind, which was more often than she cared to admit. It would be very satisfying indeed to rub it in his face that his perpetually late sister had arrived for something before him.
“Sorry that took so long.” A little out of breath, Madison breezed into the room and dropped her planners on the table. “What a mess.”
“What now?” Abigail asked, pouring herself another cup of coffee from the pot on the warmer. “With Lita, it’s always something, and the something is regularly a crisis.”
Madison frowned and scribbled in one of her notebooks before looking up. “Well, this time it seems it really is a bit of a crisis. And I guarantee you’re not going to like it much.”
Elise slid into the chair next to C.C. and took a blueberry muffin from the basket on the table. “Well? Spit it out already,” she said when her sister didn’t offer any further information. “What’s got Lita’s undies in a wad this time?”
“Give me a minute, wouldja? I’m getting to it. It’s just that it involves … Divia Larson,” she replied, then winced when their grandmother spoke up.
“Oh for the love of mud!” Abigail shouted. “What’s the wicked witch of the South done now? I swear, if she does anything to ruin this year’s festival, I just might wring her scrawny neck with my bare hands. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
“Time out,” C.C. said, making a T with her hands and looking back and forth between Madison and Abigail. “Just to be clear, we don’t like Divia Larson, right? She’s the hideous gold-digger you were talking about last night, the one who married Miss Abby’s high school sweetheart?”