Dying on the Vine

by Marla Cooper

CHAPTER 12

  “He said what?”

  I’d returned to the office to fill Laurel in on the day’s events, lugging a case of wine that Lucas had sent home with me. It was an obvious bribe, but a good one, and Laurel and I had locked the doors and declared it happy hour.

  “Yep, he’s a real charmer,” I replied, topping off Laurel’s glass of Higgins Estate Zinfandel. “But he does make good wine.”

  “Cheers to that,” Laurel said, raising her glass. “Was Lucas at least nice to you?”

  “Oh, he was great. Not bad looking, either.”

  “I can’t believe he’s still single,” Laurel said.

  “You looked him up?”

  “Of course. The Internet is our friend.” Laurel smiled mischievously. “Wanna do a coin toss? Heads, you date him; tails, I date him?”

  “No way. Neither one of us gets to date him.”

  “Oh, come on,” she teased. “Why are you so against love?”

  “I’m not against love! But believe me, you don’t want to go out with anyone who’s in the industry.”

  “They’re not in the industry, remember? They’re in the wine business.”

  “Yeah, but close enough. When you break up, it makes things really awkward.”

  “Who says we’re breaking up?” she asked, pretending to be offended on behalf of her imaginary relationship with a man she wasn’t actually dating.

  “You know what I mean. If you broke up.” I took a sip of wine while Laurel pretended to pout. “Oh, never mind, I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

  “That’s more like it,” she said, smiling.

  “Anyway, he said it was no problem putting us on the approved-vendor list. In fact, he seemed pretty enthusiastic about throwing some more weddings our way.”

  “That’s great!” Laurel studied my face. “Isn’t it?”

  “Of course,” I said halfheartedly.

  “Then why does it make you look like you need twenty units of Botox?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were making that scowly face you make when you’re concentrating or you’re worried.”

  “Sorry,” I said, rubbing the spot right between my eyebrows that always gave me away. “I was just thinking about Stefan.”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, Lucas said that Babs was thinking about firing him.”

  “No way!”

  “I know. If that’s true, then…”

  “Then maybe he’s the one who offed her?”

  “Listen to you! Get a glass of wine in you and you sound like a street detective.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I got caught up in the moment.”

  “But yeah, I hadn’t really taken him that seriously as a potential suspect. I mean, sure, he’s a jerk, but I always thought he had too much to lose to have killed her.”

  Laurel took a sip of wine. “But if she was about to fire him—”

  “Then he had nothing to lose.”

  We both sat in silence for a moment as we considered it. Should I go to the police and tell them what I’d learned? Without proof, they’d just think it was mutual finger-pointing. Stefan would probably say that she’d promoted him or something.

  “Botox!” Laurel said.

  “What? Oh, sorry.” I shook my head briskly, trying to relax my forehead. I had to stop doing that.

  “Well, anyway,” Laurel said, “I promise if you ever try to fire me, I won’t kill you.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  “But you probably shouldn’t fire me, in case I’m lying.”

  “Fair enough. And now I’m officially scared of you.”

  “It’s always the ones you least suspect.” She drained the last bit of wine and set the empty glass on the table in front of her. “Now, let’s get out of here and pretend we have a life.”

  * * *

  The next morning, I got up early so I could make a dent in my ever-growing to-do list. I started with my neglected e-mails, culling my inbox down to a more manageable number, and noticed with dismay that a prospective client had canceled our initial meeting with no real explanation. Surely it was a coincidence, right? I shook my head. Stop being silly. Sure, people talk, but people also cancel meetings for no reason. It happens. Now stop being a weirdo and get back to work.

  It was time to roll up my sleeves and start using my skills of deduction to solve the mystery of Haley and Christopher’s caterer, since that was one of the bigger vendors. Maybe I’d even call it the Great Caterer Caper. That made it sound a lot more fun.

  I settled in on the couch with my laptop and the list of approved caterers Lucas Higgins had provided me. It was a healthy list, about twenty caterers altogether, but it definitely helped narrow it down from “someplace with ‘Wine’ in the name.”

  I’d just have to start calling them one by one until I figured out which one Babs had hired for Haley and Christopher. I mentally rehearsed how to explain the situation, then took a deep breath and dialed the first number.

  “Hi, this is Kelsey McKenna. I was wondering if you could tell me whether you’re catering a wedding at Higgins Estate on the eighteenth?”

  “Sorry, we’re booked on the eighteenth.” The man’s voice was brusque, as if he were in the middle of piping filling into an infinite number of miniature cupcakes that had to be at the White House or else the Prime Minister would be left without dessert and all diplomatic relations would be severed.

  Maybe I’m exaggerating, but he really did sound busy.

  “No, I’m not trying to hire a caterer. I’m trying to find out if you’re the caterer for this particular wedding.”

  “Who is this?” Clearly those cupcakes weren’t going to fill themselves.

  “My name is Kelsey. I’m the wedding planner.”

  “And you don’t know who their caterer is?”

  “It’s complicated. See, I took over their wedding and—”

  “Our scheduling person isn’t here right now. You’ll have to call back later.”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. I went down the list one by one, leaving a string of voice-mail messages and confused caterers in my wake. With practice, I got my spiel down to something that invited fewer questions.

  “Hi, my name is Kelsey”—I’d stopped offering my last name out of sheer professional pride—“and I’ve been asked to help with some last-minute wedding arrangements. Can you tell me if you’re catering a wedding at Higgins Estate the Saturday after next?”

  The woman on the other end of the line paused. “That’s, what? The eighteenth?”

  “Yes, that’s right. At Higgins Estate.”

  “Ohhh.” Her voice had taken on a somber tone. “Was this the wedding for Babs Norton?”

  “Yes! I mean, probably. It would be under the name Bennett or possibly Riegert?”

  “Bennett. Yep, I remember them.”

  Jackpot. It had taken almost an hour, but I’d finally nailed down the caterer.

  “Where should we send the check?” she asked.

  “The what?”

  “I assume you’re calling to get their money back. We’ll cut them a check. Minus the fifty percent nonrefundable deposit of course.”

  “I think there’s been some sort of mistake,” I said. “This is for Haley Bennett and Christopher Riegert.”

  “Right. They canceled the wedding.”

  “No, no, no. It’s not canceled. I was calling to confirm.”

  “Hold on. Let me check.” She set down the phone and returned a moment later. “Yep, it says right here: ‘Canceled.’”

  “That can’t be right. I’m calling to confirm.” When in doubt, repeat things, only louder.

  “Look, I’m sorry. But Stefan told us we could release the date. So do you want the check or—”

  I felt a surge of adrenaline flood my system, and my neck grew disproportionately warm. “Stefan called you? When?”

  “Last week. I don’t know, Wednesday.”

  Wednesday. He
must have called right after he found out they were working with us. Man, I knew he was petty, but I never thought he would do something so vindictive.

  I took a deep breath. I had to fix this. “No, I don’t want a check. I want a caterer. The wedding is one hundred percent happening, so just un-cancel it.”

  Awkward pause. “I’m not sure if I can. I think we’ve already rebooked it.”

  I silently counted to five before responding. “Look, they’re counting on you. You had a contract, and I expect you to honor it.”

  “Hang on.” I could hear her clicking away at the computer keyboard. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I wish I could help you out, but that date is fully booked. We don’t have the staff.”

  I was so shocked I hardly knew what to say. There wasn’t going to be any winning this one. I’d have to find a new caterer. However, there was one thing I could do. After all, negotiating is part of my job. “Okay, you said you rebooked it, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So it’s not causing you to miss out on another opportunity. Plus it’s still far enough out that you haven’t bought the food yet, which means you’re not out any expenses. So since I have to go find a new caterer, I’d sure appreciate it if you could cut us a break on the deposit.”

  I held my breath awaiting her response. If I could at least get some of their money back, it would be a big help.

  A pause. “What were you thinking?”

  “Full refund, minus any actual expenses? They’re a really sweet couple, and I’d hate to see them suffer from this … miscommunication.”

  “I do feel bad for them.” More typing on the keyboard—possibly a stalling tactic, but I’d give her that. “Okay, I’ll tell you what, I can refund ninety percent since we were able to rebook it.”

  “I’ll take it. Thank you so much.”

  “Oh—except … I’m looking at the order now. Technically, the contract was with Weddings by Babs, and since the deposit came through them, I can only refund it to them. I know it’s kind of a pain, but I’m sure you guys can work it out.”

  I didn’t share her optimism, but she was already doing me a huge favor by offering a refund. I’d just have to make it work. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I was sure I’d be able to get the check back from Stefan. I didn’t care if he was mad at me; the money wasn’t his to keep and I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  I gritted my teeth. “I’m sure we can. Thank you so much for being flexible.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I hung up the phone and stared at the table in shock. No caterer. Are you kidding me? No freakin’ caterer? What was I going to do? Call in a taco truck? Send word to all the guests that it was now a potluck? Drive through In-N-Out Burger on the way there and order Double-Doubles and onion rings for all?

  Part of my job is to freak out so my clients don’t have to. And today I was really earning my paycheck.

  CHAPTER 13

  There’s no wedding-planner oath, but if there were, it would definitely include the idea that you shouldn’t sabotage a wedding, anyone’s wedding, for any reason.

  I still couldn’t believe Stefan had done this to us, and it made me wonder what else he was capable of. If he could destroy someone’s wedding out of spite, was it that much of a stretch to think he might have killed Babs?

  Whether he liked it or not, we needed to talk. Although I knew the odds of him answering were slim, I picked up the phone and dialed his number. No big surprise: it went to voice mail. Listening to his outgoing message, I tried to remain calm, and I steadied myself so I wouldn’t unleash on him.

  “Hi, Stefan, this is Kelsey. Will you give me a call, please?” Oh, who was I kidding? There was no way he was going to call me back out of common courtesy. “I know you’re mad, but we need to talk. I’m looking at a pile of canceled contracts here, and you know as well as I do that that’s a major ethical violation, and probably illegal, too. I don’t want to have to get lawyers involved, but if you don’t fix this immediately, I’m not going to have any choice. Now call me back.”

  I rubbed my forehead, trying to figure out what to do next. My wedding worksheet—the one that should be filled out with the names of all the vendors we were using—stared back at me blankly. If I could make a dent in it, I’d feel a lot better.

  Haley had said the florist was located in St. Helena. That would be easy enough to find. A quick search showed that there were only three on the main street through town. I called Brides in Bloom, thinking they’d be the most likely candidate.

  “Oh, you mean the canceled wedding?” said the voice on the other end of the line. “What about it?”

  Aaarrgh!

  I didn’t want to drag the florist into our drama, so in my calmest, most patient voice I explained that the wedding was back on again. They were happy to reinstate the order, and with a little finagling I even managed to have them throw in free delivery.

  Next up, the cake. Easy enough. Babs had worked almost exclusively with Renee at The Sweet Spot, ever since they’d been featured on that Food Network show about wedding cakes.

  With trepidation, I dialed their number. Sure enough, Renee told me that Babs had hired them to do the cake, but that Stefan had canceled it last week. How many contracts was I going to have to uncancel? If he was trying to make my job as difficult as possible, he’d succeeded.

  I begged Renee to help us out, but she wasn’t as easy to win back as Brides in Bloom. “I’m sorry, Kelsey, I can’t do it.”

  I wasn’t above wheedling. “Why not? The wedding hasn’t been canceled, which means we have to have a cake!”

  “Look, canceled, not canceled, whatever. Weddings by Babs has thrown a lot of business our way, and I can’t afford to get involved in this feud between you and Stefan.”

  “We’re fine,” I lied. “Just a misunderstanding.”

  “I heard about Babs’ funeral. It sounds like a lot more than just a misunderstanding.”

  “Okay, fine, yes, there’s been some tension, but right now I need a wedding cake and I am begging you.”

  “He said you stole his clients.”

  “That’s so not true! They came to me first.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t afford to get in the middle of it.”

  “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

  “I’m sorry, Kelsey. You’re going to have to find someone else.”

  My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Can you at least share with me what they ordered so we don’t have to start from scratch?”

  She laughed. “What?” I said defensively.

  “Sorry, you said ‘from scratch.’ I thought you were trying to use baking humor to win me over.”

  “Believe me, this is no joke.”

  “Okay, look, I’ll e-mail you their order, okay? Just don’t mention it to anyone.”

  At this point, I’d take whatever I could get. “Okay, thanks, Renee.”

  I hung up and headed for the kitchen, where I dug through the trash to find the empty box from the cake Brody and I had demolished. Yep, everyone thinks being a destination wedding planner is nothing but international flights and cocktail receptions, but if only they could see me elbow-deep in my garbage can.

  “You want business, you’ve got it,” I mumbled under my breath as I retrieved the pink packaging. Normally, I’d take the bride and groom for a tasting, but I made the executive decision not to worry them with it. I’d been impressed by my own informal tasting, and with the help of Renee’s instructions Haley and Christopher would probably never know the difference.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d secured a cake for the wedding, along with one happy cake shop that was willing to do whatever it took to please their newest client.

  I still had no idea where to even start with the rest of the vendors. Photographer? Linens and silverware? Music? I didn’t know who Babs’ go-to people were, and it would take a miracle to figure it out.

  For the twentieth time, I checked my voice mail. Not
hing. Who was I kidding? Stefan had to know that I’d discovered the cancellations by now, and there was no way he was going to answer the phone, much less call me back.

  It was time for Plan B.

  I punched in Laurel’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me. I need you to do something for me.”

  Ten minutes and one fake accent later, we had an appointment with Stefan. Or perhaps I should say, Stefan had an appointment with Kate, the make-believe bride Laurel had pretended to be last time she’d called him, and her fiancé, Will. They’d made plans to meet a couple days later at a coffee shop downtown, which was a short walk from Kate’s made-up job as a financial planner.

  We were in.

  * * *

  In the meantime, I needed to talk to Haley and Christopher, so I called an emergency family meeting. The couple arrived at my office a few hours later with an extra person in tow. “Hi, Kelsey. I thought I’d bring my dad, since he’s helping pay for all this. This is my dad, Stanley Bennett.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I could see a resemblance between Haley and her father, especially in their intense green eyes with extra-long lashes. He must have come straight from work, because he was wearing a crisp button-down shirt with a suit and tie.

  Haley had told me he worked in software, so I’d pictured him wearing a T-shirt and hoodie and perhaps carrying a light saber he’d built himself. Turned out he was more of a salesman. She’d mentioned something about “software in the cloud” or “software as a solution,” and I nodded along, pretending I knew anything more than “software is what makes my computer turn on.”

  “Thanks for helping out,” he said. “I guess you know we had some troubles with the last wedding planner, but Haley said you’ve really got our back.” I must have looked startled when he alluded to Babs, because he quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry. Was she a friend of yours?”

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. “I knew her, but we weren’t close.”

  “Sorry, I suppose that was insensitive.”

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “I only met her the one time, but she seemed like a nice enough person. There were just some … budgetary issues.”

  “I heard.”