Cut to the Chaise

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Do you want to open it, or should I?” Grant asked her.

  “Why don’t you unwrap it and I’ll take off the lid.”

  Grant didn’t prolong the suspense. He slipped off the bow and set it on the table, then he tore off the wrapping. The box was a carton as if whatever the present was wouldn’t fit into an ordinary gift box.

  Caprice told herself she was going to be delighted whatever it was. But when she lifted the lid and laid back the tissue paper, she gasped. It was a beautiful wooden box with her name and Grant’s burned into the lid.

  “Your father made it,” Diane Weatherford said proudly.

  “Dad, it’s beautiful,” Grant said, his voice tight.

  Caprice seconded his sentiment. “I love it.”

  “Now you’ll definitely have a big enough box for your affirmations every day,” Grant said, recovering, though he still had a world of emotion in his eyes.

  “There’s something inside,” Grant’s mother said.

  Caprice’s look told Grant’s mom the box itself would have been enough. What made it even more special was the gift that Grant had given her when he’d wood-burned their names into a heart. The gifts were tradition passed down from father to son.

  She motioned for Grant to lift the lid on the box. He did that, the scent of recent stain and wood emanating from inside. Tucked into the box were two velvet pouches. Grant handed one to Caprice and he took one. They unveiled what was inside at the same time. It was a beautiful pair of silver candlesticks.

  Diane said, “These were handed down to me from my mother and her mother before her. When Sam and I were at Caprice’s for dinner, I noticed the beautiful glassware and dishes that her Nana had handed down to her. That’s how I knew she’d like these for her table whenever family gets together.”

  Caprice responded, “We’ll treasure these, as well as the box.”

  And they would. She exchanged a look with Diane, her mother-in-law-to-be, that said they both knew now that they had common ground—their love for Grant . . . and tradition.

  * * *

  “You’re still thinking about Grant’s good-night kiss, aren’t you?” her Aunt Marie asked with a sly smile.

  Caprice had taken Lady out for the last time for the night and now they were in the kitchen having mugs of tea before they went to bed.

  “I am,” Caprice answered. “And I’m thinking about tomorrow. Grant said the temperature is supposed to be warmer and it’s going to be sunny.”

  Marie stirred honey into her tea. “What are you going to do with the dogs during the Mass and the reception?”

  “Grant will bring Patches over early in the morning without seeing me, of course, and we’ll leave them here during Mass. But then Uncle Dom’s going to pick them up and bring them to the reception. They can’t be around the guests and the food, but Michelle said we can put them in her screened-in porch at the house.”

  “Now isn’t that inventive. In a way, they’ll be at your reception.”

  Caprice sat down at the table with her aunt. “I’m so pleased tonight went well with Grant’s family.”

  “Your mother said they’ve been polite and not at all demanding since they’ve been there.”

  “Mom, Dad, and Nana are on their best behavior,” Caprice joked.

  Lady came over to Caprice’s aunt’s chair and sat under it.

  “It’s as if she knows you’re going to be taking care of her,” Caprice noted.

  “Mirabelle and Sophia both let me pet them now. I’m sure we’ll all get along fine. I’m looking forward to a few days of reading and sketching new jewelry pieces and spending some time with the family.”

  Caprice’s cell phone played. She stood and took it from the counter where it was charging.

  Marie suggested, “Maybe it’s Grant wanting to say a last good-night.”

  Caprice studied the screen. “Nope. It’s Michelle.” She answered the call, worried their reception could still be in jeopardy.

  Michelle began, “I know it’s the night before your wedding and you’re leaving on your honeymoon tomorrow. I really need to talk to somebody and I know I can’t call Vince.”

  Michelle sounded panicked and Caprice didn’t know why. “What’s going on?”

  “Jarrett’s mother wants to invest in the winery and help me run it, but Andrei Moldavan wants to buy it. I need to talk this out with someone, someone who doesn’t have an interest in what happens.”

  Caprice knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep. She covered the phone with her hand and asked her aunt, “Do you mind if I go to the winery? Michelle needs to talk over some business stuff, and she doesn’t have anybody else to do it with.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, you stay here with the animals. After I talk with Michelle, I’ll make sure the events room is perfectly ready for tomorrow. Everything should be set up.”

  Returning to Michelle, Caprice said, “I have to change and then I’ll drive out. But I can’t stay too long. I do need my beauty sleep.”

  “I know you do. And I promise, I won’t keep you long.”

  “Are Vivian and Jarrett there?”

  “Yes, they are, but they’ve turned in for the night.”

  “All right, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  Marie studied Caprice over her cup of tea. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “No, I’m not. But I really don’t expect there’s going to be a problem. After all, Vivian and Jarrett are at the house.”

  Her aunt still looked worried. Caprice would make this a quick visit and be back home before her aunt missed her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  As Caprice walked up to the front door of the house at Rambling Vines Winery, Michelle called to her from the sunporch door. Lights ran along the sidewalk and across the roof of the porch so it was easy for Caprice to see where she was going. As she approached the sunporch, she noticed that Michelle was dressed in an emerald green short-sleeved sweat suit.

  She asked Caprice, “Is it okay if we sit on the porch? We’ll have more privacy out here. Even though Vivian and Jarrett went upstairs . . .” She stopped then explained, “I don’t want to be overheard, and they seem to hear everything.”

  Michelle had poured glasses of iced tea. One sat on the round wicker table next to the wicker armchair, and one sat next to the settee. When Caprice settled on the flowered cushion, she realized this was the type of wicker look that could withstand weather. So many things weren’t exactly natural anymore. Was Michelle still dressed up because Jarrett was in the house? Did she hope she could snare Jarrett and Dion Genet was just a stopgap?

  When did you become so suspicious? she asked herself.

  Caprice had changed into a tie-dyed T-shirt and embroidered jeans. She’d simply worn her jeweled flip-flops. She had to remember to pack them in her suitcase for her honeymoon.

  A half moon glowed up above, and she wished she was sitting on the porch with Grant. “It is a beautiful night,” she murmured.

  “I had Neil open the events room for us so you can take a peek. I won’t keep you very long. I promise. I know you want to be rested for tomorrow.”

  “It may take a quart of chamomile tea to do that,” Caprice joked wryly.

  Staring out into the dark, Michelle said, “I remember the night before my wedding. I was so excited. I had such plans for me and Travis . . . romantic plans. He’d been romantic when we were dating, but then it just stopped. Lots of things stopped.”

  Caprice decided not to let Michelle know that Jarrett had told her Travis couldn’t have children. Michelle would realize what that meant for the investigation as well as Caprice did. After Caprice and Grant were on their honeymoon, she’d call Brett and give him the information. That way her conscience would be clear.

  Michelle took a few swallows of her iced tea and so did Caprice. It was sweetened and tasted refreshing. Something from dinner, probably the crab cakes, had made her thirsty.

>   Michelle took in a long breath and exhaled. “As I told you, Vivian wants to invest money to get the winery back on its feet.”

  Caprice asked, “What about Vivian and her alcoholism?”

  Michelle looked pensive for a moment and then said, “I brought that up with her. She insists she has no desire to take a drink. But she could work out of an office in the house, rather than at the winery. Or . . . if the wine does become a temptation, she’ll be a silent partner, keep her investment in Rambling Vines and go back to New Hampshire. I know I need to consider the offer for lots of reasons. First of all, I don’t want to declare bankruptcy. I don’t like failing.”

  “If you want me to play devil’s advocate . . .” Caprice suggested.

  “Go right ahead,” Michelle encouraged her.

  “There are times when it’s better to cut your losses and consider other options.”

  Michelle turned her glass around and around on the small wicker table. “I know. But the thing is, I really like planning the events here, and I’m not stupid. I could take over some of the business workings despite what Travis and his father thought.”

  “He didn’t want you doing bookwork, inventory, that type of thing?”

  “Travis wouldn’t let me near his computer. He told me just to keep my mind on the events and running the house and he’d take care of everything else. But obviously he didn’t.”

  “Who would you hire to help you?”

  “I would fire Neil. He and I just don’t think alike. Vivian has a good head for figures. After all, she ran the mill without a husband for a while. She and I could take over the finances. We wouldn’t need Neil.”

  “It sounds as if you have this worked out.”

  Michelle shook her head. “The main problem is that I need someone to make the wine. I really know nothing about that. I could get involved in promotion for it, promotion that works. But I need a vintner.”

  Caprice decided to take a chance and plunge into delicate territory. “You could ask Dion to recommend a vintner.”

  Michelle’s mouth opened in surprise. “You know about Dion Genet?”

  “I know that you’re close. I know that you and Dion possibly are having an affair. If you are, you should tell the police before they find out on their own,” she advised, knowing from experience that the truth always came out.

  “I love Dion. I want to have a future with him. He’s helped me dream again. Because of him, I realize I do have self-worth. If I would decide to sell the winery, I wouldn’t sell it to my neighbor. I could go back to nursing, and in some ways, that would be the easiest thing to do.”

  “There is another option if you don’t want Dion involved.”

  “What?”

  “You could hire Fred back. He’s been making wine here for years. My guess is he was the creative force behind it.” Caprice was about to add that he needed work when—

  A boom pierced the night silence. The sound was sharp and slicing. Caprice knew exactly what it was because she’d heard the sound before. It was a gunshot.

  Standing and getting her bearings, she realized the sound had come from near the garage. When another shot sounded, she doubted it was a backfire or someone shooting a groundhog at this time of night.

  Michelle ran into the house and called up the stairway. “Jarrett.”

  Vivian called back downstairs. “He went out for a walk.”

  Before Caprice could stop Michelle, Michelle had run out the front door toward the tasting room and the garage.

  Caprice jogged to catch up with her. “Michelle, wait. You could be in the line of fire.”

  But Michelle didn’t wait. She kept running.

  Caprice ran too but slipped her phone out of her pocket. She tapped in 911 and ran around the tasting room and winery to the garage. One of the garage doors was open. Halogen lamps lit them all.

  Instantly she focused on Michelle kneeling on the berm of the garage, leaning over someone’s body inside. Bloodstains registered before the man’s identity. As she hurried closer, she realized the man was Neil Allen and he had been shot in the shoulder. Glass from the Dodge Coronet’s window sprinkled the ground around him.

  Her phone to her ear, Caprice told the dispatcher, “Rambling Vines Winery. A man’s been shot. This is Caprice De Luca. Notify Brett Carstead.”

  The woman asked her to stay on the line. Michelle was already caring for Neil, checking his breathing and his pulse. She took off her jacket, folded it, and placed it over Neil’s shoulder wound, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding.

  Caprice had just answered the dispatcher with, “Yes, I’m still here. The woman with me is a nurse. She’s putting pressure on the wound.”

  The next second, however, she heard the loud rumble of an engine . . . a powerful engine.

  A black quad-cab truck screeched around the far corner of the garage and paused. Its headlights glared. They were all caught in the spotlight gleam. Frozen, Caprice felt like prey.

  Neil pushed Michelle away from him and yelled, “Run. Leon is going crazy.”

  Next, everything passed in a frightening blur.

  Somehow Michelle ended up on the lane in front of the garage. Neil pulled himself up to his feet, using the frame of the garage door. Taking a step back, he hit a button and the garage door began to lower.

  He shouted to them both, “Go to the events room and put the alarm on.”

  Panic gripped Caprice’s chest and her heart raced as she tried to unfreeze her brain and absorb Neil’s words.

  The truck had braked when it had come around the corner. Now the engine revved as Leon stepped on the gas and aimed toward her and Michelle with a velocity unfit for the gravel lane.

  Not a moment too soon, Caprice grabbed Michelle’s arm to yank her out of harm’s way. The truck whizzed by, brushing the flap of Caprice’s bellbottoms. She hardly stopped to think about how lucky they’d been. Instead, still pulling on Michelle who seemed to be in shock, she encouraged her to run and run fast. Michelle had mentioned that the events room was open. Would Neil direct them there if it wasn’t?

  Caprice only glanced over her shoulder once. The truck had continued down the lane but then screeched to a stop in a spit of gravel.

  The door of the truck opened.

  Still pulling at Michelle to hurry, they finally reached the events building. Caprice yanked the door open and pushed Michelle inside. After she locked the door, she said to Michelle, “Engage the security alarm. If it goes off, your monitoring service will send more help too.”

  Michelle, who seemed to come back to life again, looked like she was going to break down. “I canceled the service. But the alarm still works. Leon won’t know I canceled it.”

  Quickly studying the door and the rest of the room with its pastel tablecloths and beautiful place settings, she directed Michelle, “Help me move that credenza in front of the door.”

  Seconds later she and Michelle pushed and pushed and pushed the heavy mahogany credenza in front of the entrance.

  “We can run out the back entrance,” Michelle gasped, out of breath from the exertion.

  However, they’d run halfway through the events room when the French doors at the rear of the room exploded with the sound of a gunshot and the piercing alarm. Apparently, Leon was cunning . . . more cunning than they were. Aiming at a chandelier, he destroyed the glass shade with shards of it spraying over the tables. He obviously wanted to prove to them he had good aim.

  After that terrorizing display, he pointed his handgun first at Michelle and then at Caprice. His eyes were glazed and his expression wild.

  Caprice expected to be dead in a matter of seconds. Tears burned in her eyes as she sent Grant and her family all the love she could visualize.

  “Leon, stop,” Michelle yelled over the sound of the alarm. She put up her hands as if they could ward off bullets.

  “No reason to stop. No reason at all. I missed Neil’s heart when I shot him, and I knew someone at the house would have heard.
He slipped behind that Coronet and I tried to shoot him through the window. Then I heard voices, so I figured I could run you down with my truck.”

  He waved his gun at Caprice. “But she was too quick,” he complained loudly to be heard over the alarm. “I should kill you first.”

  Caprice involuntarily gasped. She felt sweat at the back of her neck as panic squeezed her heart.

  Again, Michelle tried to reason with Leon even though she had to shout. “You can’t kill us all. The police are going to catch you.”

  “The police can’t figure nothing out. You two will be dead and I’ll be out of here—”

  Suddenly in the midst of the alarm sounding, they heard pounding on the front door. Jarrett yelled, “Caprice. Michelle. Let me in! I can help.”

  Leon turned toward the door.

  Caprice knew she had to move fast because she might not have another chance. She wanted to marry Grant. She wanted them both to be surrounded by family for years to come. She had to be smart since she had nothing to use as a weapon.

  Maybe Leon was drunk. Maybe he was just crazy. He shouted at Jarrett, “Get away. Go back to that clam shack.”

  In the time Leon gave that order, Caprice yanked the rose tablecloth from the closest table. Dishes flew as she pulled it free and threw it over Leon.

  Michelle picked up the crystal vase from the wedding party’s table and conked Leon over the head with it.

  Outside, Jarrett had gone quiet and Caprice wondered if he was running around to the back door. However, instead of Jarrett, Brett burst in the back, patrol officers behind him. To her relief, delight, and joy, Grant followed them in.

  Still dressed in his suit from the rehearsal dinner, minus the jacket with a pulled down tie, Grant took Caprice into his arms. The officers deftly relieved Leon of the tablecloth and cuffed him.

  “He has a gun,” Caprice called to them.

  Brett picked up the gun which lay on the floor. Leon was still out.

  A patrol officer checked his pulse. “It’s strong,” he told Brett. He’ll probably come around any minute.

  “How did you know?” Caprice asked Grant, gazing into his caring gray eyes.