The Case of the Voracious Vintner

by Tara Lain

  The judges moved behind the table, and the sommelier began uncorking the first white and serving small tastes to each of the five judges’ glasses. Each judge had a spittoon, a glass of water, and a basket of crackers for clearing the palate in preparation for the next wine.

  For about fifteen minutes, most of the guests, who now numbered in the hundreds, clustered around the table, gazing at the judges’ expressions as they tasted the wines and guessing at their reactions. That game lost its appeal pretty quickly, and people drifted away to get more food and drink.

  “When shall we do the scene?” Jeremy glanced at Bo.

  “Soon, I think. People won’t leave until the wine tasting results are in, but they’re likely to disperse right after.” He nodded across the room. “Ottersen seems to have moved on from Llewellyn and Blaise, and I’d sure love to know if they learned anything useful.”

  Jeremy followed Bo’s line of sight. In a small alcove where Bo kept a display of very specialized wines, Ottersen stood huddled with Ezra and Marybeth, talking intently. Ezra smiled and rested a hand on Ottersen’s shoulder. “Damn, look at that.”

  Bo raised a sculptured brow. “For a man who says he hates Ottersen, he’s certainly doing his share of sucking up.”

  “Yeah. I wonder what he hopes to gain.”

  “Maybe to have Ottersen turn his attention to others and leave his business alone.” Bo shrugged. “Or maybe he’s just pretending, like you and I were when Ernest came in.”

  Marybeth waved at a friend and left the group, at which point Ottersen and Ezra really bent their heads together, and their expressions became more serious but not angry. “Man, they sure as fuck don’t look much like enemies.”

  “No. They sure as fuck don’t.”

  Christian rushed up like his feathers were on fire—as usual. “The judges are halfway through, so you better get on with whatever your big performance is, or the natives will get restless waiting for their prizes.”

  Jeremy dragged his eyes from Ottersen. “True. Shall we wax Shakespearean, Mr. Marchand?”

  Bo bowed in a true courtly manner. “My pleasure, Mr. Aames.”

  Christian waved a hand. “You two better take this show on the road.”

  They walked over to the small dais they’d set up with two stools. Their velvet hats, complete with feathers, lay on a side table, and two mics were positioned in front of the stool.

  Jeremy gave Bo a slap on the shoulder, though he’d rather have hugged him. “Do your thing.”

  Bo tapped on his microphone as he perched on the stool. “Ladies and gentlemen, gather round.” It took a minute of repetition, but most of the guests, except the most dedicated drinkers, did huddle up to the small stage.

  Bo said, “As you know, this is our first annual Central Coast Vintner’s Dionysian Festival. The original celebrations in Greece not only included massive amounts of wine—” People clapped and were drunk enough to cheer and whistle too. Bo laughed. “As I say, they not only drank wine and ate food, but also celebrated theater with performances of comedy, tragedy, and satire.” He looked at Jeremy, and Jeremy would have liked to describe it as fondly. “Jeremy and I put this event together on pretty short notice.” More clapping. “So we weren’t able to give the theater bit full attention. Instead, we’ve created a scene for you featuring us two celebrated thespians.” He bowed, and Jeremy hopped from his stool and did the same. “We promise you, this scene from Henry IV by William Shakespeare will be a comedy.”

  Jeremy snorted. “And likely a tragedy too.”

  Everyone laughed as Bo and Jeremy pulled on their hats, struck a pose, and plunged into the scene.

  The next few minutes were ridiculously fun. Jeremy gave his part of Prince Hal lots of swagger and sass, but Bo! The man was a wonder. With only his few lines, he turned from a tall, elegant, almost beautiful young man into a fat, scratching, wine-besotted drunkard with a keen wit. The audience laughed and screeched and applauded every time he opened his mouth. By the time they finished the short performance, the guests were stomping, and some of the drunker men moved forward and lifted both Bo and Jeremy on their shoulders for a short stint across the floor before they got too heavy and were plopped back heavily on their feet. To say it was a wild success would be far below the mark.

  When they hit the floor, Bo didn’t even hesitate. He gave Jeremy a huge hug—which didn’t last long enough to suit Jeremy but was way better than a handshake. Besides, one more second in that clinch and Prince Hal would have been Prince Half-Mast.

  People patted their backs and congratulated them as the whole group seemed to gravitate toward the judging area of the room.

  Ezra appeared out of the crowd and grabbed Bo’s arm. “When can we have that talk? I’d really like to know more about the inspiration for this event.”

  Bo smiled tightly. “Soon, Ezra. We just need to get this event behind us, and then we can talk about the next one.”

  Ezra frowned but said, “Of course. Of course.” He melted back into the mob as Bo walked beside Jeremy toward the wine tasting.

  The pretty dark-haired woman Jeremy had seen with Ottersen when he came in walked up to them with a smile. “You two were fantastic. You definitely should add performance art to your resumes.”

  Bo smiled but looked uneasy. Made sense since the woman had something to do with Ottersen.

  She extended a hand to Jeremy. “We haven’t met. I’m Sage Zilinsky. I do PR for Ottersen Wines.”

  “Oh. I see.” God, it was so damned hard to smile, but somehow he managed it. “Jeremy Aames.”

  “Of course, I’ve heard so much about you. And I love your wine.” Her smile seemed genuine, which still made him shudder. “I’m so anxious to see the results of the wine tasting. This was a great idea.”

  Bo nodded. “Yes, we need to get over there.” He struck out at speed, leaving Jeremy and Sage behind. Jeremy glanced at Sage, who smiled. He made a little bowing motion and let her go first.

  By the time they got near the front of the packed crowd, Bo had picked up the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, the tasting is concluded. Enjoy another glass of your favorite while the judges compile the winners and prepare the awards. Good luck to all.” He set the mic aside and walked out to where Jeremy and Sage stood, still side by side.

  Sage said, “I’m assuming you both entered. Are you nervous?” She giggled in a throaty way. “Being a newbie, this is all pretty exciting and nerve-racking to me.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “This is very small potatoes. The big wine tastings that publish their results in the wine magazines make the real difference.”

  “Oh yes, I understand that, but they’re so impersonal. This is hometown triumph, and it’s always a big deal, don’t you think?”

  Actually he did, but he didn’t want to say so in front of anyone connected with Ottersen. Jesus, what if Ottersen won? It would clearly suggest that all his winning of new accounts was on merit and not some kind of subterfuge or espionage—even though that would be bullshit!

  Sage gave a deep sigh. “Bo can do anything, don’t you think?”

  Jeremy tried to control his frown and probably failed, but Sage was too busy staring at Bo like he was made of gold. Jeremy muttered, “Yeah.” He was saved from having to say anything more by the crowd that surged forward as one of the judges placed the two first-place trophies on the table. Bo and Jeremy had agreed that getting the fanciest, classiest trophies possible would up the ante on the desirability and reputation of the contest, so they—meaning Bo—had invested a bundle in them.

  Sage said, “Those are beautiful.” She put a well-manicured hand on Bo’s arm. “How about I show my support for all you’ve done here by sending out an announcement email to my entire PR list of wine publications and blogs—no matter who wins.”

  Bo smiled, but there was some uneasiness behind his pale green eyes.

  Jeremy said, “We’d get to approve it, right?”

  “Of course. Don’t worry. And I assure you, my l
ist is bigger than yours. I know bloggers and thought leaders you won’t find if you ask everyone in the valley.” She grinned.

  Bo nodded. “That would be very nice of you.”

  “Great.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s see who wins.” She crossed fingers on both hands like a little kid, which Jeremy had to admit was kind of cutely clueless.

  Blanche, who’d been helping greet people and making sure they knew where the wines were being poured, bounced up beside Bo and gave Sage a hug. “Oh I’m so glad to see you, Sage.” She grinned at her brother. “About time you got busy. Mama will be so happy.” She gave him a smack on the arm, flashed her teeth at Jeremy, and walked off.

  What the hell? Jeremy wanted to follow her and ask what she meant. Of course, he didn’t.

  The judges stood in a tight group, backs mostly turned to the crowd, frowning in their judgey ways.

  Finally after what seemed like an hour, Genna Greenstein stepped forward and picked up the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I begin by introducing our esteemed judges.”

  Jeremy glanced at Sage as she pulled out a small notepad and a pencil and jotted down names while Genna recited the credentials of each judge. The judges preened as the audience members shifted from foot to foot.

  Next, Genna said, “We’d all like to note that we’re very proud as a result of judging this contest to say that we live and work in the central coast wine district. The quality of the wines we judged could not have been higher. With that said, I’ll ask my colleague, Vincenzo Rosario, to present the runners-up in red wines.”

  There was a lot of murmuring among the guests as Vincenzo took the mic. Reds were the claim to fame of the central coast wineries, so the winner in this category was a big deal. Next to Jeremy, Bo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He managed to look really cool, but he was sure as fuck nervous, just like Jeremy was.

  Vincenzo made a big deal of announcing his winners, which was both maddening and fun. “In third place, with eighty-five points, is Midnight Wines cabernet sauvignon.”

  Much clapping and cheering followed the owner’s trip to collect his ribbon and certificate.

  “In second place, with eighty-seven points”—a quick frown passed over his face so fast it might not have happened—“is Ottersen Wines pinot noir. Congratulations.”

  After a slight gasp, some of the guests only managed polite clapping. Others, who were probably not in the industry and knew nothing of the vintners’ troubles, cheered and whistled. That included Sage Zilinsky, who snapped photos of Ottersen as he walked up to collect his award.

  In definite haste, Genna collected the mic again. “And now it’s my honor to present the first-place trophy in red wines.” She cleared her throat and opened the paper. Unlike for the previous award, she broke out in a smile. “The winner of the first-place trophy at the first annual Central Coast Dionysian Festival Wine Awards, with ninety-four impressive points, is—Marchand Wineries zinfandel. Congratulations, Bo.” She clapped like crazy as did everyone else, and, happily, Sage also took photos of Bo.

  Jeremy glanced quickly at Ottersen. The man’s face was utterly neutral, which from Jeremy’s point of view was as damning as if he’d been scowling. Still, Jeremy looked back at Bo’s beaming face and felt like his heart wouldn’t quite fit his chest.

  Someone in the crowd yelled, “Fix! Fix!” But it was clearly said in jest, and everyone laughed.

  Jeremy put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

  Sage laughed. “You sure seem happy.”

  “I love it when good things happen to good people.” That her boss wasn’t included in that statement might or might not have been lost on her.

  Chapter Ten

  JEREMY KEPT whistling as Bo walked back with his huge trophy. Carefully he gave him the one-armed guy hug, but he hoped it conveyed a tiny bit of his pride and joy for Bo.

  Bo looked down at him, crinkles beside his jewel eyes. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’re happy for me.”

  “Hey, you’re a good man who makes great wine.”

  “Guess I better start fixin’ to be a great man who makes great wine.”

  Jeremy cocked a half smile. “I don’t think there’s much that needs fixing.”

  Their gazes clung. Man, he’d give a lot to get this man alone and congratulate him properly. “Maybe we could—”

  From the front, Genna said, “And now we’ll move on with the whites.”

  Bo looked conflicted but said, “Guess we need to pay attention.”

  Jeremy dragged his eyes away from Bo’s and caught Sage staring at them. She stepped in and gave Bo a hug, though he seemed to use the trophy as a reason not to hug back. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” Bo smiled, then turned as Genna called up another of the judges, Mrs. Winsap, to present the runners-up.

  The elderly lady looked very official as she opened the winner’s announcement and gave the third place to a sauvignon blanc from Ezra’s winery. Everyone clapped loudly but not with the same joy as when Bo had won. Ezra’s loud opinions and judgmental nature made him less popular than Bo by a long way.

  Ezra looked very full of himself as he accepted the ribbon and certificate.

  Mrs. Winsap said, “And now, in second place with a score of ninety—” She opened the paper, pressed her hand to her chest, and said, “Oh my. We have a tie. The second place goes to Ottersen Wines for their chardonnay.”

  Polite applause and some grumbling marked the announcement. Sage snapped photos again as Ottersen walked up smiling, though his lips looked tight. Maybe second place didn’t suit him either.

  Mrs. Winsap’s smile warmed. “And also in second place with a score of ninety for their viognier is Marchand Wineries.”

  The cheer was a notable contrast to the lukewarm reception for Ottersen.

  Jeremy gave a little hop and slapped a hand against Bo’s back as he walked up.

  Mrs. Winsap said, “I guess we’ll have to get another certificate for you, Bo. Congratulations!” She shook his hand, then gave the mic to Genna.

  Bo came back to where Jeremy was standing. “That was a big shock.”

  “Not to me.” Jeremy flashed him a grin and tried to put a lot of warmth into his eyes, though Sage also waggled her fingers and blew a kiss. Jeremy tried hard not to make a face at her.

  Genna smiled. “And now for our final award. The first-place trophy for white wine, with a wonderful score of ninety-five and congratulations from all the judges, goes to—” She paused, getting cheers from the crowd, then said, “—Hill Top Wineries, Mr. Jeremy Aames.”

  To say stunned would barely cover it. It had never crossed Jeremy’s mind that he’d win. His heart beat so hard, he felt deaf. He vaguely saw Bo glance toward Ottersen, but the thrill was so huge, he couldn’t even care.

  Somebody yelled, “You guys sure cleaned up. Pretty fishy.” Then he laughed like mad.

  Genna smiled and said, “I assure you, everything was totally anonymous, and we’re all completely proud of our new addition to the Paso Robles wine district. Jeremy, come get your trophy.”

  Bo’s warm hand gave Jeremy a gentle push forward, and he floated up to Genna. She grinned as she handed him the huge trophy he and Bo had picked out from a catalog. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” His voice came out almost as a squeak, and he chuckled. The heat in his cheeks suggested he was blushing, which unlike Bo, he never did. He held the trophy aloft for a minute, then walked back to where Bo stood holding his trophy.

  Jeremy laughed. “I guess this does look pretty bad.”

  Bo slid a strong arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. “Ask if we give a shit, darlin’.” He held his trophy aloft and pronounced, “Somebody take our damned picture.”

  Sage and about ten other people stepped up to do just that. An instant before the cameras clicked, Jeremy turned toward Bo, letting his mane of hair obscure the side of his face. There. That should be enough.

  Jeremy couldn’t stop staring at his tro
phy. Yes, he knew he made good wine, but that good? Good enough to win over everyone, even Bo? And even Ottersen?

  Bo leaned down and said softly, “Don’t look so surprised, darlin’. You make great wine.”

  Jeremy gazed up at Bo like he was the Oracle at Delphi. “Thank you. I honestly never knew I doubted that until this moment.”

  “Never doubt it again.”

  Sage said, “I didn’t get a very good shot. Let’s do another.”

  Jeremy waved a hand. “No, that’s okay—”

  Christian ran across the room, leaped at Jeremy, and ended up hanging off him like a monkey on a tree. “Yahooo! I knew we could do it, boss. Congratulations!”

  Jeremy staggered back against his wriggling and finally got Christian’s feet on the floor. “Thank you, Christian. You certainly helped make it possible.”

  He stepped back, hands on his hips. “You’re the genius with the amazing imagination and taste for special blends. I swear, nobody’s better.”

  “Thank you.” He handed him the trophy. “Hang on to this, okay?”

  “With pleasure.” Christian hugged it to his chest, and Sage grabbed a photo.

  “Congratulations, Aames.” Ottersen’s cool voice came from beside Jeremy, and he looked up into the dark eyes.

  “Thanks. You too. To place in both categories is quite an accomplishment.”

  “I’ll just have to do better next time.”

  Shit, that gave him a shiver.

  Sage proceeded to wave her arms and line up all the winners for photos.

  Jeremy whispered to Bo, “I need to go to the bathroom. Go ahead without me. I hate this part.”

  Bo looked surprised but didn’t object as Jeremy walked toward the back office where he had a private bathroom. The chances anyone he didn’t want to see the photos would actually get a look at them were slim, but still—discretion and all that. Jeremy hung out in the bathroom until the picture-taking stopped, and then he returned to that tall Southern gentleman.

  As Bo predicted, people started leaving quickly after the awards. With lots of backslapping and enthusiastic thanks to Bo and Jeremy, the crowd in the room diminished.