“I started the business in June,” she said.
“And two tours a day?”
“Yes, my business really took off. I have two pink buses, drivers, and tour guides. I’ve made a wonderful splash. How about you?”
“I’m not quite at the two-bus stage, but I’m not doing too badly.”
“Oh, good,” she said. “I thought perhaps the murder that happened on your tour might have dampened your business.”
“Any publicity is good publicity,” I said and raised my chin a bit.
“I suppose that’s true,” she said. “Funny how my business grew twenty-five percent during that time.” She patted me on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to talk to Anderson Phillips. I’ve got a tour group interested in touring his business to see how wine gets made.”
I watched her as she walked up to Anderson and hugged him as if they were old school chums. Which they could have been since he looked to be her age. Anderson owned one of the larger privately owned places in the country. I’d been trying to get Anderson to return my calls about a tour for the last two months.
It was disheartening to know she had two tour buses and was expanding her business.
“Isn’t she great?” Karen Green, chamber marketing manager, said. “She started in June and has already visited all the wineries in the county. I’ve heard nothing but praise for her tours and her connections. She’s bringing in real wine enthusiasts and has driven wine club memberships up nearly ten percent across the county.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a statistic.”
Karen nodded. “All of the winery owners just love her.”
I took a deep breath. “Right.”
“Oh,” Karen said, turning to me. “Don’t worry—there’s plenty of room for your little business. That’s why you’re taking this class, right? To learn how to network? All I’m saying is that you should keep an eye on Bridget. Learn from her. Her business is growing like gangbusters.”
“With pink buses,” I muttered.
“She really tapped into the female market,” Karen said. “She’s designing a girls’ weekend getaway, and I hear she’s working with Rose’s Day Spa. She is putting together a package called Days of Wine and Roses. Fun, right?”
“Right,” I said, shaking my head, but I caught myself in the nick of time and changed it to a nod.
“Oops, there’s Mrs. Turbine. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to her about her plans for expanding.”
I put my packet down on a seat at the end of the second row and went to get coffee while Bridget worked the room like a pro. She handed out business cards and smiled, shaking hands as if she were a contestant for Miss America … and was winning. She didn’t even trouble herself to look my way. I didn’t think to bring business cards. Right now, everyone in the room had her business card in their hand or placed on their packet. It was networking 101, and I’d fallen down on the job.
“Taylor!” Holly came into the room and waved at me. “Where are you sitting?”
“Second row,” I said and pointed. She put down her things and came over to get coffee too.
“How’s Tim?”
“He’s worried,” I said and sipped the bad coffee, wincing before putting more sugar in it. “He thinks he’s Sheriff Hennessey’s number-one suspect, and he doesn’t have an alibi.”
“What? Why would he be a suspect?”
“The dead guy was Jeffery Hoag,” I said, and we moved to our chairs.
“That realtor Mandy works for?”
“I’m not surprised to hear Hoag was killed,” George Wash said. “Hoag’s the one who was pushing Senator Randolph into rezoning our area. I think it was his idea to sick FDA inspectors on us.”
“FDA inspectors for wineries?”
“They’re supposed to inspect any food producer, but they usually give us a pass because wine is not produced like cheese or anything like that. Anyway, lately anyone who’s opposed the rezoning has been subject to a surprise visit from the old FDA. It’s harassment.”
“Oh boy, like that’s not going to cause a fuss,” I said sarcastically.
“The entire appellation is up in arms,” George said. “They can’t inspect us as if we’re making yogurt or something. Last time they got up in arms, they came out and fined Bill Paddock for having a barn cat roaming around the barrels. It’s a barn, for goodness sakes.”
“I’m going to talk to Senator Randolph about this ridiculousness,” Bernie Pere said as he came over and sat down with our group. Bernie and George were the best of friends. Bernie ran Bakes and Cakes Bakery and George ran the Sonoma Wine Tasting Room.
George snorted. “I wouldn’t waste my time with that. The man is all about Senator Randolph. I have no idea how he got elected.”
“Maybe we should all be like Tim Slade. I heard he murdered some guy for insulting his wine,” Bernie said. “My grapevine tells me Taylor was there when they found the body.” He gave me a pointed look. “Did you see anything?”
“Tim didn’t kill anyone,” I replied.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure,” George said. “That man will get into it with anyone. He’s not afraid to speak his mind.”
“Speaking your mind and getting angry enough to take a life are two different things,” I said. “Besides, none of you were there to see Tim try heroically to revive a dead man.”
“All right, let’s get started, shall we?” Candy stepped up to the front of the class. “Please take a seat. Today’s seminar is ramping up your local networking. I’m Candy Bushart and I’ll be your facilitator today.”
I took my seat and glanced around to see Bridget. She sat in the front row to my right.
Working for the marketing and advertising firm in San Francisco, I’d been skilled at networking. But for some reason, when it came to marketing my own brand, I was struggling. I grabbed my phone and hit the Notes app. It was time to put my knowledge and experience to work for my own business.
Step one, I typed into my notes, was to understand that we had different audiences. It was pretty clear that Bridget was catering to the wealthy suburban mom who wanted to get away with her friends. My audience was a bit more eccentric. I catered to people who wanted to see the real wine country for all its hidden art, history, quirky museums, and small wineries.
I frowned. Karen had said that Bridget’s tours were bringing in wine buyers. Her demographic was joining wine clubs and making large purchases. It was difficult to compete with that. My tours were business outings, team building, club outings. They were more geared for people who wanted to know the real Sonoma County. That meant they were more than wine lovers; they were hikers and artists and enthusiasts.
That was the real reason Anderson and others of his statue weren’t taking my calls. Although I had a lot to offer the people who booked my tours, I didn’t have much to offer the wineries or other businesses that we toured, beyond a bit of publicity.
It was something I was going to have to figure out, or Bridget would knock me out of the market all together.
* * *
“Well, that was dull,” Holly said as the workshop broke up. “It seemed pretty much like networking for dummies. Did you get anything out of it?”
We walked toward my car. “I learned I had competition I didn’t know about.” I pointed with my chin toward Bridget as she left, walking side by side with Anderson. “Did you know about Quirky Tours?”
“No,” Holly said. “When we did a competitive analysis when you first started to think about your business, she wasn’t on anyone’s radar.”
“Now she has two buses running two tours daily,” I said. “That’s a lot of growth.”
“You can do that too,” Holly said. “People like your California experience with the VW van. You’ve said it yourself: Sonoma County is more than just the big wineries like Anderson’s. Let her have those. Stay quirky—it’s the Northern California way.”
A crowd on the corner caught my eye. “What’s goin
g on over there?”
“Maybe someone famous is in town,” Holly said. “I heard they were scouting out areas for a movie.”
“Movie?”
“Yes, some Ron Howard film,” Holly said. “Hey, you don’t think it’s Ron Howard, do you? Come on.” She put her arm through mine and pulled me toward the crowd. Holly was tall but even she couldn’t see through the throng of people. She jumped up to catch a glimpse over the crowd.
“Is it Ron Howard?” I asked.
“No, it’s some old guy I don’t recognize. He’s dressed in some kind of white outfit … like someone from India.”
“It’s Dr. Brinkman,” the man in front of us said. “I understand he’s a gifted spiritual advisor to Hollywood stars. Have you heard of him or the Brinkman method and the law of attraction?”
“He’s the guy that Tim’s girlfriend, Mandy, was talking about,” I said.
“What’s the big deal?” Holly asked.
“What’s the big deal?” The man sounded affronted. “You obviously haven’t heard him speak. It’s life changing.” He pulled two tickets out of his pocket and pressed them into our hands. “You have to attend one of his seminars. I’m Bruce Warrington, and I’m one of his disciples.” He studied us. “I see you don’t believe me now. Go—you’ll be thanking me later.” He turned and pushed his way through the crowd to join Dr. Brinkman.
“Okay, that was weird,” Holly said as we looked down at the tickets. They had a time and date stamp for Tuesday at 7 P.M. and a price of $199. We looked at each other at the same time. “One hundred and ninety-nine dollars?”
“That’s crazy,” I said.
“He just gave them to us,” Holly said with a frown. A stretch limo pulled up, and the driver came around and opened the door. Then it left and the crowd dispersed around us. The crowd was mostly women, but a few men were debating the merits of the guru’s marketing.
“Excuse me,” I said to one of the men walking by us. “Are these tickets real?”
The young man stopped and looked at the ticket. “Sure,” he said. “You must have been one of the lucky ones. Those are VIP tickets. Worth every penny if you ask me.”
I looked at Holly. “I guess I need to do some research into this guy.”
“He seems to have quite the following,” Holly agreed as we walked to my car. “But why give us expensive tickets for free?”
“I don’t know,” I said and pulled out my phone. “Maybe Mandy knows something.” I dialed Tim. “Hey, Tim.”
“Taylor,” Tim said, “I’m a bit busy right now. I’ve got a truck coming in with grapes I purchased to replace the vat I lost. Can I call you back later?”
“Oh, sure,” I said. “I was looking for Mandy, actually. I don’t have her phone number.”
“Listen, the truck is coming up the drive. Mandy works part-time as a hostess at the Japanese garden steak house on Twelfth Street. She’s running the lunch shift.”
“Oh, that’s right. Is she doing okay?”
“As best I can tell,” he said. “She never got as many hours as she liked at the real estate place, so she supplemented her income with this other job. Good thing, what with Hoag’s death and all. It’s only lunch a few times a week, but I hear the tips are good.”
“Thanks, Tim. We’ll go see her. Good luck with the new batch of grapes, and stay out of trouble.”
“New batch of grapes?” Holly asked.
“He’s replacing the vat that was ruined by the murder.” I took Holly’s arm. “Do you have time for a fancy lunch?”
“Why? Are you buying?”
“Sure,” I said with a smile. “Come on. Tim said Mandy is working the lunch crowd at the Japanese steak house.”
“Wow, I’ve always wanted to have lunch there,” Holly said. “I heard it was fantastic and just as fantastically priced.”
I winced. “Maybe we can just have appetizers.”
Holly laughed and put her arm through mine. “Maybe Mandy will give us the house special.” We walked to the Japanese steak house. It wasn’t terribly crowded as it was two in the afternoon and most of the lunch crowd was already gone. We stepped out of the bright sunshine and into the cool, calming atmosphere of the high-end Asian restaurant.
“Taylor,” Mandy greeted me as she came out from behind the hostess desk. She was dressed in a black pantsuit. Her long blond hair was pulled back, and her makeup was expertly done. “What brings you here?”
I gave Mandy a hug. “Hi. I was looking for you actually,” I said. “I heard about your boss. Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Jeffery and I weren’t that close. He was gone a lot on business. Who’s this?”
“This is my best friend, Holly.”
“Hi, Holly,” Mandy said. She studied us both. “You didn’t just come here to check on me, did you?”
I felt the heat of a blush rush over my cheeks. “We saw a crowd on the street and went to see what was going on. We think it might have been all about your guru.”
“Dr. Brinkman?”
“We think so.”
“Some guy named Bruce gave us these,” Holly said and lifted up her ticket. “We were wondering why.”
Mandy pulled the ticket out of Holly’s hand, read it, and smiled brightly. “You are so lucky! These are great box seats. That is awesome. Listen, do you want to stay for lunch? I can seat you. I’m still kind of on the clock,” she whispered to us.
Holly was reading the menu. “Um, I think we’ll skip this time.”
“I fully understand,” Mandy said. She leaned into us. “This place is for businesspeople who are bringing important clients for a meal. I have a break coming. Why don’t you meet me at the coffee shop on the corner?”
“The Beanery?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be over in a minute.”
We stepped back out into the sunshine. The Beanery was literally on the corner a half a block from the steak house. “Well, so much for Japanese,” I said.
“Did you see the prices?” Holly shook her head. “You couldn’t sit at a table for less than a hundred dollars a person.”
I winced. “I bet that’s how they met.”
“Who?”
“Tim and Mandy,” I said. “Tim loves gourmet meals. I bet he went in there for the Kobe beef and came out with Mandy on his arm.”
“It must be nice to have made all your money in a start-up,” Holly said.
“Someday we’ll eat like that too,” I reassured her as we stopped in front of The Beanery.
“What if I don’t want to?” Holly said with a twinkle in her eye. “Seems such a waste just for a meal. I never did understand the whole wining and dining clients. I’d rather give the money to charity.”
“You are a pure heart,” I said.
“Who will never be wealthy,” Holly said with a laugh. “I’ve had some people in the art gallery who are so rich it oozes out of their pores, and you know what?”
“What?”
“They don’t seem any happier than you and me.”
“Then we are very lucky girls,” I said. “Come on—I said I’d buy you lunch. How about a sandwich bagel?”
“Only if it’s tofu,” she said.
“I’m sure they have vegan.”
Chapter 7
“So, tell me, what did the guy who gave you the tickets look like?” Mandy asked.
“Like he was in his thirties, maybe. With brown hair, dark eyebrows, and green eyes.”
The barista came over and delivered our chai tea lattes. “Here you go, ladies. Your sandwiches will be out in another minute or two.”
“What did you say his name was?” Mandy said.
“Bruce something,” I said and drew my eyebrows together. “He said he was a disciple.”
“Oh my, that’s Bruce Warrington. You ladies are really lucky. He’s the driving force behind Dr. Brinkman’s lectures here in Sonoma. The story is that he heard Dr. Brinkman speak in Berkeley and begged him to come out and d
o a retreat at the Mission. He’s a true believer. Why, it was Bruce who gave me my first ticket.”
“Your first ticket?” I asked.
“Oh yes. After I heard Dr. Brinkman speak, I had to go back. Once you go, you’ll understand.”
“Wait, you paid two hundred dollars to hear him speak a second time?”
“No, actually, I’ve paid nearly a thousand dollars,” she said and sipped her tea. “And let me tell you, it’s been worth every penny of Tim’s money.”
“Tim’s money?” I asked.
“He gives me whatever I want,” she said with a smile.
“Sure, but a thousand dollars?” I had to ask. I could only imagine Tim rolling his eyes and handing out five one-hundred-dollar bills. It was what Tim did. My friend could be very generous, but he could also be very demanding.
“He said it was worth the investment,” she said smugly. Then she leaned in toward us. “Seriously, if Bruce gave you tickets, you should go. Dr. Brinkman has journeyed all over the world, studying the words of wisdom. He says the universe has a purpose for us all.” She put her hand on mine. “He can help you find your purpose.”
“I think my purpose is to show off the secret corners of California wine country,” I said with more confidence than I’d felt after finding out that Bridget Miller was far more successful at it than I was.
“Of course you think that,” Mandy said. “But wouldn’t you rather know for sure?” She turned to Holly. “What if you were to learn that you were actually prophets? That your true role in the universe was to enlighten people? To be activists for change for the world?” She nodded toward our tickets. “You were chosen for a purpose. You should attend and find out what that is. Trust me, it will rock your world. I should know—I’ve been called for private sessions with Dr. Brinkman.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “He wants to make you his worldwide spokesperson.”
“Not worldwide,” she said solemnly. “His United States spokesperson. It’s a great job offer.”
“What does it pay?”
“It’s simple really,” she said. “I pay him a thousand up front, and then he shoots the videos and trains me to give compelling speaking engagements. Then, with his marketing, I will be on a platform where I will sell out conference rooms. He promises that within the first year I can make upwards of half a million dollars. I know that you will be able to do the same if you follow his advice.”
Seven Deadly Zins Page 5