by Nadia Gordon
“Please.”
It was getting late and the restaurant was slowing down. A handful of tables were occupied. A few more customers sat at the small tables near the bar. Nick waved over a busser and spoke to him. Sunny waited. She watched Remy help himself to two glasses down at the other end of the bar. He filled one from an open bottle of Mason Sauvignon Blanc, emptying it in the other. He pulled up each of the open bottles sitting on ice to check the label, but none was Mason. Finally, after a second’s hesitation, he topped up the glass with a bottle of what looked like Cakebread and carried the two glasses out.
Nick came back and busied himself nearby.
“Is anything what it seems around here?” said Sunny.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Sunny, looking away. “That star. I never noticed it before.”
Nick turned to look at a star of light striking the wall between the kitchen and the tall mirror behind the bar. It sat near the middle of the wall and was well proportioned, with slender arms and a fiery center. “It’s funny, isn’t it? It almost looks like it was put there on purpose.”
“Wasn’t it? I assumed it was art,” said Sunny.
“Nope, accident. When the light is on in Eliot’s office, it shines through the glass brick, hits the dragonfly, and gets refracted over there. I’ve been meaning to make it part of the usual setup to turn that light on when we open. We never noticed it until a couple of weeks ago, because Eliot doesn’t usually work in there at night.”
Sunny contemplated the burst of light. “He’s been working longer hours lately?”
“Trying to save our skins. Things were bad enough before Nathan died. Eliot’s been up there trying to find some way to make the numbers work.”
“I thought Vinifera was doing well.”
“We serve plenty of food, we just don’t make any money. I don’t think Eliot is even taking a salary right now.”
“Ouch. Has he been here all evening?”
“I think he’s been here all day. He was here when I got here at three. Just between you and me, I have a hunch it’s sink or swim for him right now. Make this place go or shut it down.”
“He seemed so casual.”
“Eliot doesn’t let on. It’s not good for business.”
The busser came out of the kitchen and waved to Nick from down the bar. He went over, listened for a moment, then came back. He braced himself in front of Sunny.
“Andre says he’s busy and won’t be able to see you tonight, but he’ll call tomorrow.”
Sunny frowned. “Ouch, that doesn’t sound very good. Isn’t he even going to pop out for a second?”
He shook his head. “What happened with you two? He was walking around like he won the lottery all week, now he gives you the big blowoff.”
“Thanks for clarifying,” she said, laughing. “I was still sort of clinging to the hope that he might actually be busy.”
“What do you think? So what happened?”
“Not that much. I wasn’t entirely honest with him last night and I guess he could tell.”
“Lies already? You two are on the fast track.”
“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t say where I was going.”
“Careful there. He’s the sensitive type. Passionate artist kind of guy. Like all you chefs.”
“I’m more of a pragmatist than an artist. I cook because I like to eat. Do you think he’ll change his mind?”
“You mean tonight? I doubt it. Maybe tomorrow.”
Well, she’d done it. She’d messed up the best chance at love she’d had in years, not to mention making a fool of herself, driving halfway across the state to test a perfectly pristine bottle of French brandy. “I guess it’s a fitting end to the day.”
“You don’t want that to be the end. Hang out and relax for a little while. Let me pour you something.” He surveyed the open bottles. “How about a nice, juicy Stag’s Leap Cab?”
“Okay, but I want to watch your hands. Looks like you never know what’s going to be in your glass around here.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just watched Remy mix Mason and something else, Cakebread maybe. I wouldn’t mind drinking either of them, but I’m not sure they’re good as punch.”
Nick frowned his disapproval. “He’s terrible. He says most of the people who come in here can’t tell grape juice from soda pop and don’t deserve to drink good wine.”
“Even if they can’t say what’s wrong with a glass of wine, they might just notice that they aren’t thrilled. That’s a great way to lose customers,” said Sunny. “Besides, what if somebody other than me saw him do it? In addition to being bad business, it’s illegal to swap out the goods on your customers. He’s crazy.”
“Not crazy, just arrogant. Imagine if you knew in your heart that you were a superior being, but you were stuck here waiting on a bunch of ignorant Americans. He does that stuff all the time. I’ll tell you something else.” He put his elbows on the bar and leaned close. “He loves to mess with people. He used to mess with Nathan constantly. I don’t know how Remy lives with himself, now that Osborne’s dead. Osborne almost never got what he thought he was drinking. It was a game with Remy. He’d bring in crappy wines we don’t even serve here and pour them for Nathan like they were some big deal. I don’t think Nathan ever guessed. He couldn’t taste much of anything when he was loaded.”
“And you didn’t say anything.”
“It’s not my job to squeal. I just pour what they tell me to pour and stay out of the funny business. Besides, it wasn’t always just for fun. There was a practical aspect to it. Nathan treated this place like a candy shop; enough to have a fairly serious impact on the bottom line. He’d come in with a group of his cronies, drink Manhattans for three hours, then start ordering the most expensive wines we serve. It drove Remy crazy to have his cellar hit like that. He called it enological vandalism. Remy got in the habit of decanting Nathan’s wines for him at the bar. So they’d have a chance to breathe, he said, which was bullshit. He’d pour a good enough wine, we don’t have any bad wine on the list, but he wouldn’t always open every six-hundred-dollar ego booster that Nathan wanted.”
Sunny made an effort not to betray her excitement. She said casually, “What about Nathan’s fancy Armagnac? I’ll bet Remy loved to see him toss back a shot of that without even tasting it.”
“That was the worst. That even made me shake my head. Especially since that stuff is my favorite. I could make a meal out of a snifter of really good Armagnac.”
“He wouldn’t know the difference if that was switched on him by that time of night anyway, would he?”
Nick busied himself with tasks behind the bar. Sunny took a drink of the wine he’d poured her and let the question linger in the air. After a while she said, “How long have you had a thing for Dahlia?”
He didn’t look up. He was matter of fact. “Long time. Why?”
“Even when she was dating Nathan?”
“We met her right about the same time. When she started working here. There’s never been much between us. Or at least nothing mutual.”
Sunny thought for a moment and then said, “What did you serve Nathan when you didn’t give him his 1944 Francis Darroze?”
Nick smiled. “Again with the Armagnac. You’re obsessed.”
“Yes, I am. Humor me.”
He sighed. “Fine. I almost told you the other day when you were asking about it anyway. I don’t see what harm it can do to admit it now. The only person who would be mad is Nathan. Eliot would thank us.”
Sunny put on an intrigued but not overly eager expression, hoping to encourage him without betraying the intensity of her interest.
Nick glanced up the bar to see that no one needed help, then settled in. “It was Remy’s idea. He said the next time we emptied a bottle, I should keep it and refill it with our cheapest Cognac. This was quite a while ago. A couple of years, I guess. I thought it was risky because they don’t taste alike t
o me, and the color is pretty different, but Remy said he’d take care of that. He’d be sure to always be the one who ordered Nathan’s Armagnac, and if he was still sober enough to notice a difference, he’d let me know. If someone else happened to put in the order, I poured the real thing, just in case.”
Sunny had to remind herself to breathe. “There were two bottles of Armagnac that looked exactly alike,” she said.
“I always kept one real bottle and one of the old empties refilled with cheaper—but still quite good—Cognac. On the rare occasions when Nathan was sober at the end of the night, Remy would ask for a glass of Francis Darroze and I would pour the real thing. Most of the time he asked for ‘our finest Armagnac,’ and then I’d pour from the decoy. I still don’t see the harm in it. We must have saved the restaurant thousands of dollars, and Nathan still got his nightcap.”
“But the bottles looked exactly alike. If you weren’t familiar with the contents, you wouldn’t notice the difference, right?”
“Oh, I could tell the difference. The Cognac has a glassier, crisper look to it than the Armagnac, and it’s much yellower, not as red.”
“You could tell, but that’s because you know what it’s supposed to look like. Could Eliot tell, for example?”
“I don’t think so. Besides, Eliot only drinks wine. And Nathan never noticed.”
“So only you and Remy knew there were two bottles.”
“I think so. I certainly never told anyone. It’s not the sort of thing you’d want known. There was another reason for the decoy. Somebody had been nipping out of the bottle fairly regularly. Enough that I noticed. We went from ordering a bottle every couple of months to needing a new one every month. It was probably the cleanup crew after hours. It was starting to add up, so I’d leave the decoy out and lock up the real stuff. Then during business hours I’d swap them in case I wasn’t behind the bar when Nathan wanted his drink.”
“Do you think Dahlia knew?”
“I don’t see how she would. Like I said, I never told anybody, and Remy isn’t the type to share confidences, especially when it comes to pulling a fast one on his boss.”
She took a deep breath and a drink of wine before she asked her next question. She exhaled, making a noise like steam in a pipe the way they did in yoga, ujjayi style, without meaning to, trying to stay calm. “Nick, where’s that second bottle now?”
“You mean the decoy? It’s gone. They got ’em both.”
“They?”
“Whoever stole it. They’ve both been gone since I checked on Monday afternoon.”
Both bottles were gone on Monday. Dahlia took one of them, as a remembrance of Nathan. That bottle did not contain taxine. The other was still missing. “Oh, shit,” she said. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“Are you having family meal tonight?”
“Every night. If you’re hungry, you’re welcome to stay. You can be my guest. Things are winding down. They’ll probably do it pretty soon.”
“What would you say if I told you I know where one of the bottles of Armagnac is? I think I ought to go get it and we can make a toast to Nathan.”
“How the hell do you know where it is?”
“I have my ways. I think it’s a good idea, don’t you?”
“I suppose it is. It would be a better way to finish off the bottle than it just disappearing. Did you get hold of the real stuff or the decoy?”
“I’m not sure. You can tell me when you see it. Listen, Nick, there’s more to this than seeing Nathan off. I know who took one of the bottles. I think it’s very important that we find out who removed the other one, but we’ll have to be tricky about it. Whoever it was, I don’t think they realized there were two of them. I can’t explain everything, but we may be able to tie up all the loose ends around Nathan’s death if we do this right.”
“You mean who broke the bottle at Nathan’s place?”
“Among other questions. Would you be willing to tell your story about swapping out the Armagnac? You could make it funny.”
“I could do that, I guess. I’ve definitely been curious about that broken bottle.”
“If you do this right, we’ll get it all. I’m convinced of it. I need to make some calls and get everyone here before the key players go home. Can you sell the idea of toasting Nathan to Andre, Eliot, Remy, and Dahlia so they’ll stick around? Once we have everyone together, you tell your story about the double life of the Armagnac, including how both bottles disappeared after Nathan died, and how one reappeared today. Oh, and after you give your speech, make sure you suggest that Eliot offer the final toast. That part is crucial. I’ll explain everything to you later. I have to go get the bottle.”
“I don’t know about Eliot. He almost never stays for family meal.”
“It’s just for the toast before. Tell him that Pel and Sharon Rastburn are coming down specially for it. One more thing, don’t be too clear about where each bottle was kept and when you moved them back and forth. It will be better to leave the impression that they were both just hanging around and only you could tell the difference.”
“This sounds like a setup. I don’t like theatrics, and I’m not a snitch.”
“You won’t be snitching. You’re just going to tell the truth. If there’s nothing to be learned, we’ll all have a shot of brandy, wish Nathan well, and forget about the whole business. However, if my hunch is right, somebody at this restaurant is going to be very upset when they hear about your economizing.”
“I think I need to know where you found the bottle,” said Nick. “People will ask.”
“Just say it reappeared as silently as it disappeared.”
“That’s not true.”
“Okay, say that a certain individual removed it for sentimental reasons, then thought better of it and asked me to return it. When you saw it, you had the idea to use it to say bon voyage to Mr. Osborne.”
“Another lie.”
“That’s not a lie, that’s spin. I’m just trying to give you credit.”
“What’s this really about?”
“It’s about finding out what happened last Saturday night. Trust me.”
Nick shook his head. “Those are the two most dangerous words I know.”
24
The Rastburns did not need to be persuaded. They were touched by the sentiment and more than happy to get up from their video, drive forty-five minutes down Valley, and join the party, despite the hour. Sunny thought it was testimony to their devotion to Nathan, or perhaps Eliot.
Rivka was a different story. “Why do you need my help? Can’t you have your inquisition without me?” she said.
“I could, except I need the Armagnac. It’s sitting on my kitchen table. Be a good lass and bring it down here? The key’s in the usual spot.”
“Inside the faux dog turd around the side of the house.”
“Exactement.”
“Mind explaining what you’ve got up your sleeve?”
“I would, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“Throw me a bone.”
Sunny pinched the tiny phone awkwardly against her shoulder and opened her umbrella. She walked across Vinifera’s parking lot through the downpour to make sure she was out of earshot.
“Details later, but I think the only way to solve this is to force the guilty party to step forward, and I think I’ve found how to do it. This toast may be our last, best chance.”
There was a brief silence, then Rivka said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Sunny hung up and dropped her phone back in her pocket. That was it. All she had to do now was wait until everyone arrived. She huddled under her umbrella and watched the rain strike the blacktop. She dug in her handbag for a mint, turned it on her tongue for a count of twenty, added five more for extra credit, then crunched it up, wondering what she would say to Andre when this was all over.
A few customers left the restaurant, no one arrived. The Rastburns pulled up sooner than she wo
uld have expected. They must have dashed for the door. They were more jovial than the occasion seemed to merit.
“A fine idea,” said Pel, striding up with hands in his pockets like a student. “Eliot must be coming to terms if he feels up to this. It’s a lot to lose your best friend.”
Sharon followed behind, beaming from under an umbrella. She stood beside them and shook off the water. “We wouldn’t miss it,” she said.
They lingered under the awning, the Rastburns lulled briefly by the rain, Sunny stalling for time. A moment later, Rivka drove into the lot, then walked up carrying a brown paper bag. Sunny introduced her.
“Shall we join the others?” said Pel.
Inside, the restaurant stood empty except for a foursome chatting over coffee in one of the booths along the far wall and another couple talking softly at the bar. A collection of staff from the front of the house had pushed a string of tables together and were serving themselves from platters of polenta, roasted root vegetables, and a pork loin. Family meal was going to be indoors tonight. Sunny led the way to the bar, where Nick was waiting.
“Are we ready?” she said.
“I’m ready if you are,” said Nick. He handed her a tray of empty glasses and took up another himself. He gestured to Remy, who walked to the kitchen door and leaned in. A few minutes later, several of the kitchen staff collected around the group seated at the long table. No one knew exactly what was going on and they whispered to each other, waiting for whatever announcement was to take place. Nick stood at the head of the table. Andre came out of the kitchen looking somber and sat down. Dahlia was already seated at the far end of the table, talking to one of the other servers. The Rastburns sat across from them with Rivka. Remy came over and Nick whispered something to him. Remy went to the phone by the bar and made a call. Soon after, Eliot appeared at the top of the staircase. He took in the group below him. A flash of surprise was swiftly replaced by annoyance, and just as quickly glossed over by enthusiasm. He jogged down the stairs with a gracious smile.
“What’s going on?” Eliot asked Nick.
Nick made eye contact with Sunny and she nodded. “We all know how Nathan liked his Armagnac,” he began in a toastmaster’s loud voice. “Straight up and the more expensive the better.” Everyone chuckled. He went on. “Someone, and it seems we may never know who, took the liberty of removing Nathan’s favorite bottle after he died.” The chuckles stopped. “I assumed it was gone for good, but today it happens to have reappeared.” He put the paper bag on the table and pulled the bottle out of it. He took a moment to examine the label, then put it back down. “Which brings me to something of a confession. Since Nathan’s death I’ve suffered a guilty conscience for my complicity in a ruse originated by our own Remy Castels.”
