Cut to the Chaise

by Karen Rose Smith

  She supposed Holden was in the car with Grant. Just why did Grant want her to come to dinner on Holden’s first night here?

  “Just me?” she asked.

  “Just you.”

  “Do you want me to bring dessert?”

  “That would be great.”

  “I’ll make that coconut cake you like so much.”

  “Do you have time?”

  “I’ll make time. What time do you want me there?”

  “How about six?”

  “Six o’clock it is. Tell Holden I said hi. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  “And he’s looking forward to meeting you. I’ll see you at six.”

  After Caprice arrived at Grant’s townhouse, she’d find out what was really going on . . . besides dinner.

  * * *

  Caprice walked in on something at Grant’s townhouse that evening and she wasn’t sure what.

  Patches ran over to greet her and Lady. After she took off her color-blocked poncho, she noticed the tension both in Grant’s stance and on Holden’s face.

  Grant introduced them. “Caprice, this is Holden, my brother. Holden, this is Caprice, my fiancée.”

  She held out her hand to Holden and he took it, but his expression looked wary. She’d hoped tonight would be a fun night, a get-to-know-you-dinner. She’d worn a white full-sleeved blouse, a large flower-print vest with fringes, and pants with flutter bell-bottoms. Now she wondered if she should have dressed more conservatively as Holden looked her over. “Mom said you dressed like an escapee from the seventies,” Holden said.

  “Holden,” Grant chastised.

  Holden was about an inch shorter than Grant. His hair was dark-brown and his eyes green. He had Grant’s well-defined jaw though, high cheekbones, and thicker brows. He was handsome and she supposed he could be charming if he smiled. He was wearing chinos, a beige polo shirt, and loafers.

  Caprice could make a snappy sarcastic comment as a comeback, but that wouldn’t advance any relationship. Instead, she said, “Thank you, I think. You should see my Beatles military jacket.”

  Holden gave her a disbelieving look, then smiled. “Mom said you had a sense of humor.”

  “Don’t confuse a sense of humor with being tactful,” Caprice responded with a smile.

  Apparently Grant could see where this conversation was headed. He said, “Let me take your poncho, Caprice. I’ll hang it in the foyer closet. Dinner’s almost ready. If you want to settle in the kitchen, feel free.”

  Caprice followed Holden into the kitchen where the table was already set. After she set the cake on the counter, she took a seat across from Holden, leaving the head of the table open. “What are we having?” she asked.

  “Steak, salad, baked potatoes. A manly man meal.”

  “Do you consider yourself a manly man?” she asked, half joking. Something had to lighten the atmosphere.

  “Sometimes I do, but Grant always is. He’s the perfect man. At least he was until he got engaged to you.”

  Choosing not to feel hurt, trying to swim past what she felt was a personal attack, she wanted to get to the bottom of Holden’s problem. Or maybe it was Holden and Grant’s problem.

  “First of all,” she said, “I don’t think Grant would consider himself a perfect man. And I’m really interested in why you think marrying me would change somebody’s opinion of him.”

  Holden frowned and shrugged. “My parents don’t approve.”

  “Really? When we visited them after Christmas, they were welcoming to us, even to Patches.”

  “He brought the dog with him?”

  “We brought the dog with us. I have a cocker spaniel too, Patches’ sister. We thought two dogs might be a little much, so I left Lady with my parents. Your dad doesn’t think of pets the same way we do.”

  “You use that ‘we’ pretty loosely.”

  “I know what Grant feels about animals. Do you?”

  Holden’s frown deepened. “Are you asking me if I know my brother?”

  Just then Grant returned to the kitchen.

  Caprice was glad for his presence. She was afraid she was delving into water that was much too deep for her alone. This serious conversation wasn’t at all what she’d expected tonight. Holden definitely seemed to have a chip on his shoulder.

  Grant looked from one of them to the other. Then he picked up two potholders and went to the oven, opening it to check the steaks. He pulled them out and cut one. “Medium well for everyone,” he said.

  Grant collected their plates and one by one forked the steaks onto them. Then he pulled the salad from the refrigerator and set the wooden bowl on the table. The baked potatoes wrapped in foil were next and he put one on each plate. Butter was already on the table, but he pulled the container of sour cream from the refrigerator.

  “You thought of everything,” Caprice said with a smile, wanting to give him encouragement.

  “He always does,” Holden said.

  When Grant shot him a sharp look, Caprice had the feeling this was an old battle . . . or an old war.

  They all began carving their steaks. Grant had prepared the salad with a vinaigrette dressing that Caprice had given him the recipe for.

  Using a tongs, she served herself salad from the bowl and asked, “Anybody else?”

  “Sure,” Grant said, passing her his dish. After she served Grant, her gaze met Holden’s. “How about you?”

  “Why not?” Holden said. “I’ll add something healthy to this cholesterol-lover’s dream.”

  “I thought you liked steak,” Grant said with a quizzical look at his brother.

  “I usually don’t buy Porterhouse. Way too expensive. Especially grass-fed. I saw the label on the steak package.”

  Caprice could continue the conversation about food or she could change the direction of it. “Grant told me you’re the manager of a division in a medical supply company. Do you enjoy your job?”

  “Is there anyone who really enjoys work?” Holden asked.

  “I do,” she answered him quickly.

  “Right. You stage houses for high-end clients. Even rock stars. I’ve heard all about that. Must be really hard work.”

  Grant stopped eating and eyed his brother. Caprice knew that look. Grant was at the end of his rope and he was going to say so. Maybe she could stop him. She laid her hand on his arm, but he just patted her hand as if he understood what he was doing. He seemed determined.

  “Caprice had an interior design degree and a decorating business. It started tanking because of the bad economy. Intelligent and savvy woman that she is, she recreated her business into home staging,” Grant explained.

  After he laid down the knife and fork he’d been holding, he continued, “Fairly quickly, she earned a good reputation and more and more clients. She spends hours with a client, decluttering their house. She pulls furniture from her storage shed. She works with her assistant to arrange the furniture they bring into the houses. She coordinates with her sister Nikki who’s a caterer to put out a unique spread at open houses for each client if they choose to have one. She often works seven days a week with long hours, many of them on the computer. But she loves what she does. That’s why it works. That’s why she’s successful. I like being a lawyer. That’s why I can make a living at it. Why don’t you tell Caprice what you’re thinking about doing?”

  Holden’s face turned a shade of red as if he was embarrassed. “All right, I’ll tell her what I want to do. I’d like to quit my job, drive out to California, maybe Venice Beach. I’d like to own one of those stores on a pier and sell T-shirts. I’d like to experience a little bit of paradise before it’s too late.”

  “My parents don’t approve,” Grant told Caprice.

  Holden bristled. “That’s because there’s only ever support for what you do, not what I want to do. Except in this latest stunt of you and Naomi going through an annulment. Mom and Dad don’t understand canceling out a marriage. They also don’t understand why you picked her.”
He pointed to Caprice.

  “Holden, that’s enough,” Grant scolded, loud enough for Patches to come running to him.

  Holden pushed back his chair with such force it almost fell over. “It’s not nearly enough. I’m going to take a walk. You two enjoy dinner.”

  As he walked out of the kitchen, Grant called, “Holden. Wait.”

  But his brother acted as if he didn’t hear him, and soon they heard the front door open and close.

  “What was that about?” Caprice asked, turning toward Grant, reaching for his hand.

  He interlaced their fingers. “It’s about resentment that he’s been harboring for a long time. I really don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Why don’t I help you clean up, then I’ll leave. I have an early appointment tomorrow with Jarrett at the Koffee Klatch. When Holden comes back, the two of you can talk.”

  Grant shook his head. “I don’t want you to leave this way.”

  “What way? I love you and you love me, and we’re getting married on Saturday. That’s what I care about most. But I care about you and your brother too.”

  Grant leaned forward and kissed Caprice. Then he murmured, “That’s exactly why I’m marrying you,” and he kissed her again.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was seven thirty on Friday morning, the day of the wedding rehearsal and dinner, when Caprice met Jarrett at the Koffee Klatch. He’d told her he was meeting with distributers later in the day and this was the only time he’d had open. But he hadn’t arrived yet as Caprice ordered a latté and then chose a table, thinking about her family and Grant’s having dinner tonight.

  Her mind had plenty of places to go. Grant had texted her last night to tell her Holden was back and they would talk. He’d said everything was okay. She didn’t push for more because she knew he had a lot on his mind. He’d be picking up his parents at the airport today.

  Not only was she worried about Holden and Grant, but when she’d gotten home last night, Vince was in her living room talking to Roz! She’d gone to bed and fallen asleep before Roz came upstairs. This morning Roz hadn’t been up but she’d left a note—I WAS UP UNTIL 3 A.M. SLEEPING IN. I’M PACKING UP MY THINGS AND GOING HOME TO VINCE THIS MORNING. WE’LL TALK LATER.

  While Caprice waited for Jarrett, she sipped her latté and checked her phone. No messages. Was he going to stand her up? It wouldn’t surprise her. He knew she was probably going to ask questions he didn’t want to answer.

  How long should she wait? Until eight?

  At seven forty-five, Jarrett came in the door, looking harried instead of his usual casual self. When he saw her, he waved and went to the coffee bar. A few minutes later he was sitting across from her. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, “With my mother in the house, a simple conversation can lead to a situation that needs multiple answers.”

  “About the winery?” Caprice asked.

  “Yes. My mother is tossing a few ideas around. Michelle is considering them all. Michelle has to think of her life different and separate from Travis’s now. She couldn’t do that while they were married.”

  “Even though she was having an affair with Dion Genet?”

  “Even though. At heart, Michelle is a loyal person. She meant her vows. Oh, by the way, she got a call from Vince yesterday. He cut ties with her. She called a defense attorney he recommended.”

  After a look at Caprice, Jarrett said, “You can say what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking I’m happy for Roz and Vince if this fixes what their arguments were about.”

  “I know what you mean. You think you’re arguing about what someone made for breakfast when it’s really about finances.”

  “So you have been involved in serious relationships.”

  “I have,” Jarrett admitted. “But none were serious enough.” He took a few swallows of his coffee and checked his watch.

  Caprice got the message. “I know your time is limited today and mine is too. So I’ll get to the point. I want to know what you’re not telling me about Michelle or Travis. I can tell you’re holding something back. Any tidbit could make a difference in solving the murder. Don’t you want to do that for your brother?”

  Jarrett drank more coffee as if bracing himself. But then he gave Caprice a shrug. “What I know has nothing to do with the murder. It just shows how despicable my brother was.”

  She was surprised at that answer. After all, they had been brothers. “Don’t you want to know who murdered him?”

  “You know, I really don’t care.” He frowned, stared into his coffee, and admitted, “That’s not true. I care because I don’t want Michelle to be blamed.”

  “And you think what you know will put Michelle in more jeopardy?” Caprice guessed.

  “Possibly. If I tell you, you’ll tell that detective . . .”

  “Jarrett, it all has to come out. Don’t you understand that? It’s the secrets and lies that hurt people, not the truth.”

  “The truth,” he scoffed. “Everyone sees the truth differently.”

  “I like Michelle. And, yes, there are two sides to every story, maybe even three. But facts are facts. What are the facts that you know?”

  Jarrett glanced around as if he thought about escaping. Then he seemed to deflate. With resignation, he revealed, “My brother married Michelle, knowing full well he couldn’t have children. But she didn’t know that until a year into their marriage when she wanted to start a family. He told her then and she felt betrayed. That’s when their marriage fell apart.”

  Whoa! Jarrett was right about this truth. This revelation gave Michelle even more motive for murder.

  * * *

  That evening after the rehearsal at St. Francis, when Caprice and Grant walked into the room at the Country Squire where their dinner was being held, Caprice stopped cold. Roz had said she’d take care of the decorations and she had . . . wonderfully.

  Caprice murmured to Grant, “It looks like a fairy tale.”

  Grant confided, “Roz told me she was going to use a Cinderella theme. I told her just not to go too heavy on Prince Charming.”

  “That’s not true at all,” Caprice protested. “You are my Prince Charming, but a very human one. It just took me a while to figure out that I deserved one.”

  “And you are my quirky Cinderella, though I haven’t seen you in the glass slippers yet.”

  Caprice laughed. The theme could have gone very much awry but Roz had excellent taste. She’d used lots of crystal with the vases and the decorations. The Cinderella coach atop the mascarpone and strawberry cake was spun glass and absolutely beautiful. Twinkle lights blinked everywhere.

  Grant suddenly turned Caprice toward him and stared into her eyes. “You look beautiful tonight. I can only imagine you in a wedding gown.”

  Tonight, the dress she had chosen could have been worn in the Gatsby years. The lace inset bodice fell into three scalloped tiers. It was her favorite color—turquoise.

  “You look pretty spiffy yourself.” Grant was wearing a pale gray suit, a white shirt, and a geometrically designed gray tie.

  “I’d kiss you but I’ll mess up your lipstick.”

  “I don’t care about the lipstick,” she murmured.

  Grant had just circled her with his arms when Vince and Roz came in behind them. Caprice immediately went to Roz and gave her a huge hug. “This is absolutely beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Roz said, beaming.

  Vince encircled Roz’s waist. He was grinning and Caprice could see the couple looked happy.

  “Did you two come together?” Caprice asked.

  “We certainly did,” Vince said. “And we’re going to be doing a lot more things together, including owning my house—our house. I have all the paperwork ready for Roz’s name to go on the deed.”

  Caprice hugged her brother, realizing that his situation with Roz had been similar to when Grant’s ex-wife came to town. The two of them had finally found closure to their relationship. Cap
rice hadn’t been happy about it, but it had been necessary.

  A short time later they were all seated at the table, everyone, that was, except Holden. The waitresses had just served the salads when Holden rushed in, carrying a large shopping bag. After he handed it off to his dad, he gave Grant and Caprice an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he mumbled, as he took a seat beside Grant. “But I bought a new tie. I’m glad I did. This place is grand.”

  Caprice had almost been ready to become defensive but she realized there wasn’t any sarcasm in Holden’s tone. When he seemed engaged in conversation with Aunt Marie who was beside him, Grant leaned close to Caprice. “I think it helped that I saw a parallel between Travis and Jarrett’s relationship, and me and Holden. I have to let him find his own way.”

  “I’m glad your argument cleared the air. Maybe the two of you can find real bonds.”

  “I have a feeling there are a few more arguments in our future before that can happen. But at least we started.” Leaning closer to her ear, Grant asked, “Are you off-the-wall excited about tomorrow?”

  She turned her face toward his so their lips were almost touching. “Off the wall about describes it. I doubt if I’m going to sleep tonight.”

  “You and your aunt might be up late talking anyway.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t want circles under my eyes for the wedding.”

  Grant gave her an understanding smile. “I can’t wait to see you walking down the aisle toward me, ready to start our future.”

  Tears were burning in Caprice’s eyes when Grant’s dad did the unexpected and interrupted the conversation. He stood and clanked his spoon on his glass to capture everyone’s attention. He glanced at his wife and she gave him a nod.

  Addressing Caprice and Grant, he said, “I know you’ve probably gotten a couple of roomfuls of presents, but we wanted to give you something special. Holden brought it in his car for us. We didn’t want anything to happen to it on the plane.”

  Suddenly Grant’s dad stooped over and pulled a box out from under the table. It was about the size of a breadbox, wrapped in white shiny paper with a huge white bow. He brought it over to Caprice and Grant and set it on the table between them. He touched Grant on the shoulder and returned to his chair.