Dying on the Vine

by Marla Cooper

  “Cheers,” Brody and I said in unison as we clinked glasses. Something new. I assumed Jake meant our little project, but it gave me a funny feeling in my stomach nonetheless.

  I tucked into my ham and Brie sandwich with slices of green apple that gave it a little crunch, and sighed with happiness. After everything I’d been through the last couple of days, it felt good to relax a bit. I didn’t even mind the bumblebees frolicking in my fruit cup.

  After we finished eating, Jake pushed his plate aside and wiped the crumbs off his jeans. “So, you wanna talk weddings?”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” I said. Well, that and the company, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  I pulled my notebook from my bag and flipped it open to share a couple of sketches I’d made the night before. “I was thinking we’d highlight two locations. That great big oak tree over there would make a great setting for an outdoor ceremony. All you’d need is to rent some chairs and get some flowers, maybe an archway or—oooh! We could even drape the tree with flower garlands.”

  Brody nodded in agreement. “That would make a gorgeous shot.”

  “Before we get too carried away, though, we should probably talk about your budget.” I hated to be a party pooper, but I didn’t want to go overboard.

  “I’ve never thrown a wedding before,” Jake said, “so I don’t know how much they cost, but how bad can it be?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Brody said. “People can go nuts. But that’s what makes this such a good investment.”

  “And staging a wedding won’t cost as much as an actual wedding, since we don’t have to worry about food or music or any of that stuff,” I said. “I’ll write up an estimate for you before we get started so you know what you’re getting yourself into, but a couple of rental fees and this thing will pay for itself.”

  Jake smiled. “I trust you. Let’s talk about what we want to do first, and we’ll talk about what’s actually possible later.”

  “Perfect,” I said, flipping to the next page in my notebook. “Then let’s talk about location number two.”

  “The barn?” Jake asked.

  “Exactly,” I answered. “We can set it up for a reception. No food, of course, just tables, linens, place settings, and of course lots and lots of flowers.”

  “Chicks dig flowers,” Jake said with a grin.

  I smiled back. “I should say that’s sexist or something, but it’s not untrue.”

  “Mind if we go have a look?” Brody asked.

  “Let’s go,” Jake said as he stood and offered me his hand, pulling me to a standing position.

  “You know what might be cool?” Brody asked as we approached the front entrance. “A wine barrel on each side of the door with a great big bouquet of flowers on top of each.”

  The mention of wine barrels made me flinch for a second, but it was a great idea even if it did set off a mild case of PTSD. “I like it. Very wine country.”

  Jake laughed. “I’ve definitely got a couple of those lying around.”

  Jake rolled open the big doors that were made to accommodate extra-large farm equipment.

  “Now let’s talk about what goes up there,” I said, pointing to the open beams and high ceiling. “The key is to create drama. We could do chandeliers, or string it with a gazillion café lights. We could even do paper lanterns if you want to go more colorful, or hang some more flower garlands—although the lights are something that would become a permanent fixture.”

  “Agreed, the lights seem like a good investment.”

  “Plus,” said Brody, holding his hands up to frame the scene, “they’ll look great on film.”

  We talked a while longer, brainstorming ways to show off the venue, and I jotted notes and offered my best guesses on how much the different components would cost.

  “And you can help me get everything we need?” Jake said. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Of course. I’ll be here to set it all up and Brody will shoot it.”

  “Man, this is going to be great. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Are you kidding me? This is what I love to do. And it’s not often I get to just have fun without having to take two families’ worth of opinions into account.” It was also a welcome change of pace from all the worrying I’d been doing.

  “Excuse me for a minute, guys,” Brody said. “I’m going to grab my camera and take a couple of reference shots.” I turned my head in time to see Brody bounding up the path toward the house.

  “So,” I said, feeling nervous about the sudden departure of our chaperone, “I think this’ll be great.”

  “Me too,” said Jake. “Hey, while I’ve got you alone … I was wondering if I could bribe you with dinner sometime?”

  “You don’t have to bribe me. I told you I’m happy to do it.”

  “Okay, maybe ‘bribe’ isn’t the right word. Tempt?”

  Oh, I was tempted all right. “You mean like…?” I wanted to make sure I knew what I was potentially agreeing to before I embarrassed myself.

  “Yes, like a date.”

  I worked hard to play it cool, but my heart was doing jumping jacks and possibly a samba dance inside my chest. “Sure, that’d be great. We can go over the estimate and—”

  “Nope,” Jake said.

  “Nope? Nope what?”

  “I told you, it’s a date. We can talk about our wedding some other time.”

  “Our wedding? Oh, our wedding. This wedding.” I laughed nervously. “I thought you meant—but you just meant this. Okay, good.”

  Yep, way to play it cool.

  Jake seemed nonplussed by my tongue-tied response, but he just smiled. “Good then. Now that we’ve got that established, I’ll call you, okay?”

  I nodded but didn’t vocalize my consent, for fear of blurting out something equally awkward.

  Just then Brody reappeared, and while he snapped a few pictures I watched quietly, still riding high on a wave of giddiness. I was dying to tell Brody about the date, but I patiently waited until we’d said our goodbyes and were pulling out of the driveway.

  “I’m not surprised,” he said.

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Because I have an uncanny ability to read people,” he said. “And besides, he told me he was going to.”

  “He did? When?”

  “Earlier today, when I called him. Why do you think I made myself scarce back there?”

  “But wait, what if I’d said no?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Like that was going to happen.”

  “What do you mean?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest in mock indignation. “Are you saying I’m easy?”

  “Well, sure. But you already admitted you like him. Besides, I know you well enough to read the subconscious signals.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think in the course of one afternoon, the two of you just shared a romantic picnic and then planned your dream wedding.”

  CHAPTER 25

  As Brody and I headed back toward the city, the late afternoon sun bathed the vineyards in a golden glow. Neither of us was in a particular hurry to get home, so I talked Brody into meandering our way along the back roads instead of heading right back to the highway.

  “Oh!” I said. “Maybe we’ll stop at that place we went to that one time.”

  Brody flashed me a quizzical look. “Could you be a little more specific?”

  “That old general store they fixed up where they sell fancy-pants sandwiches and cool housewares and stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah. What was it called?”

  “I don’t remember. The Fancy-Pants Sandwich and Tchotchke Emporium?”

  “Pretty sure that’s not it, but I bet you can look it up. Maybe we’ll grab something to take home for dinner.”

  “Or an overpriced pair of waffle tongs.”

  “Waffle tongs? Is that a thing?”

  “They’re all the rage in Europe,”
I said as I opened up my Internet app. “And with moms of toddlers.”

  I held the phone up to the front windshield but couldn’t get a signal. “Shoot, I can’t connect to the Internet out here. Oh, well, maybe we’ll run across it—if we haven’t already passed it.”

  I kept an eye out while we drove. Winery. Winery. Winery. The Willows. Wait, the Willows? I spun around to check out the large wooden sign with gold-leaf letters: The Willows. A Bed and Breakfast Inn.

  That was weird. “Brody, slow down!”

  “What? Why?”

  “The Willows. Babs Norton and Haley’s dad. It’s not a restaurant!”

  “Complete thoughts, please.”

  “Sorry! I saw a sign back there for a bed-and-breakfast called the Willows. Maybe that’s the Willows the Babs was referring to in her datebook.”

  “That makes more sense. That other place is a dump.”

  I looked back over my shoulder again, trying to see what the place looked like. “Should we go check it out?”

  “Why?” Brody asked. “They were probably just scouting a venue, maybe for the rehearsal dinner or something.”

  “But they’d already booked the rehearsal dinner.”

  Brody shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they were looking for someplace for his elderly aunt to stay.”

  “That seems like it would have been below Babs’ pay grade, but I guess it’s possible.” I tried to let it go, but something was still bothering me. “Can we go back? It’ll only take a minute. I want to check it out.”

  “All right.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but he did turn around in the parking lot of the next winery and he barely scowled at all. A few minutes later we were winding our way up the long drive.

  The main house was small but stately, with manicured rosebushes along the porch and large white columns framing the door. Behind the main house, several cottages were tucked away behind hedges.

  “Nice,” Brody said as we got out of the car.

  “A little too nice, if you ask me.”

  Brody quirked an eyebrow at me as I turned to march up to the front door. Locked. I pulled a brochure from the wooden display holder mounted on the wall and read it out loud. “‘The Willows. A romantic retreat in the heart of the wine country.’”

  “Hmmm,” Brody said. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “‘Since 1982,’” I added.

  “That really doesn’t mean anything.”

  A sign near the door read “Please ring the buzzer if the front door is locked,” so I pressed the white button, then peeked through the windows into the front parlor.

  “One minute!” came a cheery voice over the intercom. “I’ll be right down!”

  I looked at Brody and shrugged. A minute later, a woman wearing a floral apron over her khaki pants and T-shirt flung the door open, a huge smile lighting up her face. “Welcome! Are you the Donovan party?”

  “No, sorry, we don’t have reservations.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding politely and still smiling—though she seemed confused as to why we were standing on her porch if that was the case. “I’m sorry, we’re all full for the night.”

  “Right. We’re not looking for a room. I’m Kelsey.” I retrieved a business card from my purse and held it out to her. “I’m a wedding planner, and this is my friend Brody.”

  She smiled and took my hand. “Nice to meet you, Kelsey the wedding planner and her friend Brody. I’m Sandra.”

  “I’m sorry to stop by without an appointment, but we were up this way, and, well, you came highly recommended by another wedding planner, so I just wanted to stop by and check the place out.”

  “Oh, fantastic!” She beamed and waved us in. “Come have a glass of sherry and I’ll show you around.” She led us into the plush front room with its elegant dark-wood wainscoting and overstuffed furniture. “Who did you say told you about us?”

  I looked sideways at Brody for a split second and cleared my throat. “Um, Babs Norton.”

  “Ohhhhhh…,” Sandy said, her smile turning from cheery to pitying all in one move. “I heard about what happened. It’s just a tragedy.”

  “Yes, it was,” I said.

  “You said she recommended us?”

  “That’s right,” I said, hoping it wasn’t completely obvious that I was lying. “Apparently she booked parties here sometimes?”

  “Well…” Sandy smoothed her apron, apparently at a loss for words. “We’re not really set up for parties here. Why don’t you tell me what size group you have and I’ll see if I can make some recommendations?”

  “Oh, I don’t have anything in particular in mind. Just always on the lookout for new venues,” I said, smiling brightly.

  “Well, let me give you a brochure. We have a bridal suite that’s pretty popular with honeymooners.”

  I took the brochure and nodded admiringly as I flipped through the pages. Between the Jacuzzi tubs, the beds sprinkled with rose petals, and the much-heralded private cottages, the Willows looked like it was running for Love Nest of the Year.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I guess I misunderstood. So Babs wasn’t planning an event here?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Sandra said. “She just—you know.” In lieu of finishing her sentence, she smiled and nodded for a little longer than one might normally under the circumstances.

  I peered at Sandra, waiting for her to finish. Which she didn’t. “Are you trying to say she was a guest?”

  “I’m not really at liberty to say.” Sandra looked nervous. “You know how it is.”

  I knew exactly how it was. Babs had been spending her downtime at a romantic retreat in the heart of the wine country. With Haley’s dad.

  As much as I admired Sandra’s discretion, I wasn’t ready to let her off the hook. If I was right about Babs and Stanley, this was big news. “Oh, my mistake! She must have come here with her boyfriend. Stanley Bennett?” I looked at Brody as if to say, Was that his name? but Brody looked at me as if to say, Leave me out of this.

  “I have so many guests, I can’t remember all of their names,” she said diplomatically.

  “Tall guy, brown hair? About yea-high?” I held my hand up to approximate Mr. Bennett’s height.

  Sandra gave an awkward half shrug. “I can’t really divulge…”

  “Of course not. Sorry.” As far as I was concerned, she didn’t have to divulge a thing, because her shifty-eyed denial said it all. Not that Sandra was shifty—although you never know; sometimes the cheerful ones are the most dangerous of all—but my questions had clearly struck a nerve. Her sudden need to protect Babs’ privacy told me everything I needed to know.

  Namely, that there was privacy to protect.

  I bit my tongue all the way back to the car, but as soon as we’d closed the car doors behind us, I let it out. “Babs and Mr. Bennett! Brody, can you believe that?”

  Brody seemed nonplussed as he started the car and made his way back toward the main road. “C’mon, Kelsey, they’re two consenting adults.”

  “Yeah, but he’s a married consenting adult.”

  Brody’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Whoa, he’s married? I thought you said Haley’s parents were divorced?”

  “I did. They are. But Haley has a stepmom, Yvonne.”

  Brody let out a low whistle. “That’s crazy. No wonder you were all hopped up back there.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “No, it’s because I know you. She probably just thought you needed to use the restroom.”

  “Anyway,” I continued, ignoring him, “Haley told me her dad had fired Babs over money issues, but maybe there was more to it than that.”

  “Like maybe his wife found out, or one of them broke it off.”

  “Exactly. Man, I would never have an affair with one of my clients. That’s a total wedding-planner faux pas.” I shook my head thinking about Babs and Haley’s dad, but trying not to think about it too hard because that was not an image I wanted in my head.


  “Definitely not what you would expect from the Queen of Wine Country Weddings, that’s for sure.”

  My mind was racing. “Brody, do you know what this means?”

  “That Sandra needs to work on her poker face?”

  “Haley’s dad lied! He acted like he hardly knew Babs.”

  “Yeah, well, it sounds like he knew her pretty well.”

  “Seriously. Like biblically well. Don’t you think that’s pretty suspicious?”

  “Definitely.” Brody thought for a second. “But he might have just been trying to cover up his affair.…”

  “Or he might have been trying to cover up a murder.” Suddenly the car was feeling kind of stuffy, and I rolled down the window to get some air. “I really, really don’t want it to be true. I mean, I don’t know them that well, but my clients are always just … my clients. And I’m so used to overlooking weird family dynamics that I guess I’ve been in denial.”

  “Well, it sounds like it’s time to consider the possibility.”

  I considered it for a moment—and I didn’t at all like where it led me. “It’s even worse than you realize.”

  Brody gave me a sidelong glance. “How so?”

  “When I told Mr. Bennett about Stefan canceling the contracts, he pretty much flipped out.”

  “Flipped out how?”

  “Somewhere between road rage and a Real Housewives reunion.”

  “Maybe like Bruce Banner right when he turns into the Incredible Hulk?”

  “Yeah, like that. He didn’t turn green, but he did threaten to destroy Stefan.”

  “Yikes. So we know he has anger issues. He was having an affair with Babs—”

  “And now she’s dead.”

  “And he was furious with Stefan—”

  “Who was locked in a wine cave and left for dead.”

  My phone began to ring the special ringtone that I assigned to clients, and the name “Stanley Bennett” flashed up on display. A shiver ran down my spine as I held it up for Brody to see.

  “And now he’s calling me.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “There’s good news and bad news,” I said as I hung up the phone from my brief call with Mr. Bennett.