I had to laugh. "Well as long as you're the serving type, that's all I care about tonight."
"And exactly what are we serving?" Ava asked, thankfully changing focus as she took an apron from my box of supplies and tied it around her waist.
I handed a copy of the night's menu to Ava.
"We'll start with mini almond flour blini's with carrot lox, then we'll do sweet potato canapés with mung bean sprouts and tofu teriyaki tartare. After that, we'll bring out Wine Marinated Stuffed Mushrooms, eggplant scallops, and small cups of butternut squash and porcini mushroom risotto."
Ava frowned. "All vegan, huh?"
"And gluten-free. It's what Carrie wanted." I shrugged.
She shrugged. "Well, if anyone can pull it off, it's you."
I grinned, appreciating the vote of confidence.
"And the wines?" Ava asked.
"I've brought a few bottles of our Petite Sirah, and plenty of the Chardonnay that I'm hoping will pair with the risotto, and the Zinfandel with the mushrooms."
Ava nodded her approval. "Sounds delightful. If missing meat." She grinned.
"One can hope. Now, let's get cooking. The guests will be here before we know it."
CHAPTER TWO
Ava was just setting out the last plate of canapés when I removed my chef's coat in favor of the simple black A-line dress I'd selected for serving duties. The dress was a bit more fitted than the last time I'd worn it, but then I'd been doing a lot of taste testing of late, so that was sadly to be expected. I made a mental note to look into this vegan thing later, if only for a few days to get the dress back to moderately formfitting instead of suck-it-in fitting. I slipped my feet into my stilettos. At least they still went on easily.
Carrie pushed through the kitchen doors and rushed toward me, smothering me with the latest scent from Tiffany's.
"Emmy, is everything ready?" She looked immaculately put together in her Gucci raspberry red knee-length cocktail dress. I'd heard a lot about that dress, and I'd admit that it was worth the money she'd told me she had spent on it. A black band enhanced her tiny waist, and the red silk accentuated her painted lips. She'd done the smoky eye thing and tied her hair up in an elegant chignon, emphasizing her long neck and smooth skin. The only hint at her anxiety was sitting in her eyes, as her lashes batted at excess speed.
"Relax. Everything is ready to go as soon as you give the cue."
"Fantastic." She took a deep calming breath as her husband, Bert, entered the kitchen behind her.
"Carrie, what have you done with Barkley for the night?" Bert asked.
"He's locked in the bedroom. I've left some meditation music playing softly so that he won't get freaked out by the sounds of the party. And I've taken Tripp's warning seriously. He can't go anywhere near Dante, so we have to keep a close eye on him."
"Good thinking." Bert placed his arm around her shoulders and lightly kissed her temple. "Now, I need a drink before our guests arrive." He turned to acknowledge me for the first time since stepping into the room. "Emmy, which of your wines do you recommend?"
Bert and Carrie had only married a couple of months before I'd left LA, and I'd first met him when I'd catered their wedding. Bert had the handsome Prince Harry thing happening, with the sandy ginger hair and blue-gray eyes. He kept his face cleanly shaven, accentuating the boyish features that had made him a child star. Home with the Hendersons had been one of my favorite television shows as a kid. His character, Little Bertie, had coined the catch phrase "You know it, Mama!" complete with a cheeky wink, and I'd driven my mom crazy by copying it at every opportunity. As far as I knew, Bert had left acting in his childhood, but apparently he still ran in the same social circles, as I remembered Carrie saying she'd met him at a party at her agent's house just a few months before they'd wed. These days he was more on the financial end of things. Carrie had described him as a "whiz with money," and I knew he handled all her finances, making investments with her portfolio that had apparently been paying off big time. Big enough to afford the home that I knew had to have set her back a number well into the seven figures, knowing the current California real estate market.
"I brought a couple of bottles of our Petite Sirah," I told him. "It's a red that we only do small runs on." I had an uncorked bottle close by and poured him a glass.
Instead of inhaling the aroma and allowing the liquid to slowly hit his palate in order to get the full taste of the wine, he downed the glass, finishing with a smack of his lips.
"Nice stuff. Your friend knows her booze, Care," he told his wife.
I held my smile in place with no small effort as I poured more "booze" into the empty glass he held toward me. I'd just topped it off when Ava rushed into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
"He's here! He just pulled up in the driveway." She stopped as she spotted Carrie and Bert. "Sorry, I um, thought Emmy was alone."
Carrie didn't bat an eyelash. Instead she asked, "Who's here?"
Ava recovered from her faux pas and grinned as she removed her apron, throwing it back into my supply box. "Nolan Becker. He's driving a flashy little sports car, and he looks good enough to eat."
"He looks that way even without the sports car." Carrie smiled.
"You are so lucky to work with him every day," Ava gushed.
Bert snorted, but no one seemed to pay it any attention.
"Would you like to meet him?" Carrie asked.
"I would kill to meet Dr. Drake Dubois," Ava said.
Carrie laughed. "Well, I assure you Nolan is nothing like his character."
"Oh. Right," Ava said, looking slightly deflated.
Carrie leaned in close and winked at Ava. "He's hotter."
Ava grinned and might have even swooned a little.
Bert downed the rest of his "booze" and grunted again as he set the glass on the counter with a thump. "Perhaps we should greet our guests," he suggested, taking Carrie by the arm.
Ava and I followed the couple into the living room, where we watched them welcome Nolan—which had Ava almost passing out—as well as a couple of other men who'd arrived at the same time. We'd just had time to offer drinks to the newcomers when several more guests followed, a steady stream entering until the expansive room seemed to echo with the din of chattering voices, tinkling wineglasses, and laughter, as the crowd enjoyed Carrie's hospitality and hopefully our food as well.
"He kissed my hand," Ava said, sidling up alongside me, a Chardonnay bottle in her hand.
"He?" I asked.
"Nolan. Carrie introduced us, and I swear the man actually kissed my hand." She looked down at the appendage as if it were anointed.
"Let me guess—you're never washing it again?" I teased.
"Wash it? Honey, I may just enshrine it for all time." She paused. "His lips were so soft," she said, eyes going across the room to the man in question, who was presently swirling the last of his Chardonnay in a glass as he chatted with a slim woman in a green sequined cocktail dress. "I wonder who he's dating at the moment. The magazines are always quiet about that."
I shrugged. "I guess he likes to keep his personal life personal."
"He could have any woman he wants, I bet." Ava's eyes glazed over, as if mentally doodling her name in hearts with his.
"Is that bottle empty?" I asked, gesturing to the one in her hand in an effort to pull her back to reality.
"Uh-huh." She placed it on the side table we'd set up as a makeshift bar and pulled her phone from her pocket, bringing up a social media site.
"I wonder if Nolan would accept a friend request from me," she said, scrolling.
"I bet he'd accept a fresh glass of Chardonnay," I hinted.
But she was deep in social media and ignored me. "Oh, did you see Harper Bishop's selfie with a glass of the Zin?" she asked me, holding the phone for me to see.
Apparently Harper and the woman in the sequined dress were one and the same, the photo showing her standing by the large fireplace with the caption Livin my be
st life in Wine Country. I had to admit, the bottle of wine in the background with our label clearly visible was nice publicity.
"No, I hadn't seen that." I paused. "Because I'm working," I said, hoping she got the hint this time as I shoved an uncorked bottle of Chardonnay her way.
"Oh, so am I! I'm reposting every single mention that has been made from this party. So far your Zin has the most likes. You need to keep plenty of stock of that one. After tonight, you'll be getting loads of orders."
I said a silent prayer that she was right.
"Anyway, Harper was the most enthusiastic about it," Ava continued. "I hope she's not driving home later, because I've already poured her far more than the legal limit, and if the tabloids are correct, she's already been pulled over for a DUI."
I shook my head. "No, Carrie told me that both Harper and Nolan are staying here for the weekend. So there's no need to worry about how many times we refill their glasses."
At the mention of "Dr. Drake Dubois's" real name, Ava gave a dreamy sigh. "I wonder which room he's staying in."
"You wouldn't?" I laughed, knowing exactly what was running through Ava's mind.
"It would only be a tiny peek," she confessed on a grin, hurriedly pushing her phone into her pocket as Carrie stepped up to us, the sequined Harper Bishop trailing behind her.
"Everything is amazing, Emmy," Carrie said, the previous anxiety in her eyes gone—though thanks to a flawless party or a couple glasses of Oak Valley wines, I wasn't sure. Likely both.
"I'm glad the guests are enjoying themselves," I told her.
"Oh, we are," Harper piped up, her voice throaty in a Lauren Bacall way that felt the polar opposite to Carrie's perky one.
"Emmy, have you met Harper?" Carrie asked, turning to her companion.
Harper Bishop was probably the most classically beautiful woman I had ever met up close. Her high cheek bones, dazzling green eyes, and full lips looked as though they came straight from the gods. Yet I knew that you only got a body like hers from hours in the gym, no carbs, no fat, and no fun. And possibly a little help from a scalpel.
"Harper's my sister. Well, she plays my sister on the show, but we're so close, I tell everyone we're actually sisters." Carrie let out one of her tinkling laughs, putting her arm around the other woman's shoulder. "Anyway, I guess I should actually say, played my sister on the show. Her character had a slight incident recently and got herself killed."
"You're kidding!" Ava said, the bombshell clearly not one that had been leaked in Soap Opera Digest yet.
Harper gave a throaty laugh, flicking her luscious dark hair over her shoulder. "Yes, sad but true. This is one carefree heart that's stopped beating."
"But I'm sure your departure will have the highest ratings of the season," Carrie said, ever the one with silver linings up her sleeve.
"Oh?" Ava asked, her inner fangirl peeking out. "How does Allegra die?" She paused, turning to me to explain. "Allegra is Harper's character.
"In a thrift store, of all places. I mean, as if Allegra would shop thrift." Harper ran her hands over her emerald green designer label dress that I knew probably cost more than my car.
"What happens in the thrift store?" Ava asked on a breath, clearly completely enthralled.
Carrie leaned in close, ready to tell a secret that hadn't yet aired.
"Well, Allegra lost all her money in a bad investment and is poor now, only she didn't want everyone to know, so she was sneaking around the thrift store buying secondhand designer dresses and pretending they were new. But she didn't see the orange peel that had been discarded on the floor. She slipped and broke her ankle and was taken to the hospital. The nurse in the ER made an error and gave her the wrong medication. Allegra had an allergic reaction and died. Despite Doctor Drake's efforts to save her. Only the medication mix-up wasn't an accident at all. No. The nurse was none other than her arch nemesis, Abyssinia, in disguise."
Wow.
I struggled to stifle the grin I felt bubbling in my throat, not only at the unbelievable storyline but at Carrie's dramatic retelling.
"A thrift shop! Demoralizing, really," Harper said. "The producers' last dig at me, I suppose."
"I think the fans will love it. Even if they will miss you terribly," Carrie assured her.
"Yes, well, there's that." Harper smoothed an imaginary stray piece of fluff from her designer dress as Bert approached from behind.
"Harper, darling, what's this I hear? You're out of a job?" he joked.
"Oh ha-ha. Very funny, Little Bertie." Her tone matched his teasing one, but I could see an undercurrent of something else flitting behind her eyes. "But I tell you both, it's a blessing really. I needed some downtime."
"There's a bright side to everything, isn't there?" Carrie said.
"Yes, think of all that extra beauty sleep you'll be able to get now," Bert said, chuckling at his own wit. He glanced my way just long enough to see the bottle of Sirah in my hand and held out his empty glass.
Reluctantly, I filled it as a fourth joined their little trio.
"Well, you can't say I didn't try my best to save you." Nolan Becker approached the group of friends at our popular wine table, addressing Harper. "But even Dr. Dubois can only do so much."
He gave her a wide smile that flashed a dimple at the side of his cheek, giving him a mischievously boyish look. Bright blue eyes, tall, dark hair in a stylish cut, and clothes that spoke to both expensive taste and the money to afford it. Despite the fact that I usually went for the more rugged type, I couldn't help admitting he was strikingly good-looking.
"Well, at least we know the producers love you, Nolan," Harper responded, playfully swatting his arm. "Though, I have to say that scene where you declared your undying love to my dead body was very touching."
"It brought a tear to my eye," confessed Carrie earnestly.
"Some of my finest work." Nolan grinned, rolling his hand with an over exaggerated bow.
Ava looked about ready to faint. Or jump his bones. Maybe both.
"Well, I'm sure the Carefree Hearts fandom will be sorry to see Allegra go," added Bert, sipping from his third (or fourth?) glass. "But what do they say? All good things must come to an end, my dear Harper." He saluted her with his wineglass. "No matter how expensively gorgeous they are."
"Oh, Bert, stop. You're embarrassing me," Harper said, sending him a coy smile. Though, again, I caught some sort of look being exchanged between them that didn't quite jibe with their words.
"I hate to interrupt, but it looks like Eric is getting ready to leave," Carrie said, seemingly oblivious to any tension under the words of her husband and faux sister, as her gaze turned toward the door. I spied an older man in dark slacks putting on his jacket. "We should say goodbye."
Harper scoffed. "Why would I want to say goodbye to a network exec who basically just fired me?"
Carrie tilted her head to the side. "Come on, now, Harper. You know there are no hard feelings."
"Yes, come on, Harper," Bert teased. "Make nice with the gentry."
Harper rolled her eyes but complied, following Carrie as the host gave Ava and me an apologetic look.
Almost as soon as they walked away, another couple approached, looking for more Chardonnay. As I poured for them, my eyes strayed to Carrie and her entourage again as they met Eric From the Network at the door. I noticed as soon as Bert shook the man's hand, he faded away into the crowd. Carrie chatted in earnest with the exec, while Harper, on the other hand, barely gave the man a wan smile before her eyes followed Bert across the room.
"This is really delightful," the woman in front of me said, pulling my attention back to my task at hand. She was a bit older than the rest of Carrie's guests, though dressed just as stylishly. Her dark hair shot with gray was pulled into a low ponytail, and her husband appeared to be bored—possibly there out of obligation more than interest.
"Thank you. This was a particularly good year for us," I said, gesturing to the bottle.
"Well, it
's lovely. Do you happen to produce any other whites?"
"We do," I told her. "We have a very nice Pinot Grigio this year. We only brought a couple of bottles with us, but I'd be happy to open one if you'd like to try it?"
"Please," she said, nodding vigorously.
I glanced around, noting we must have left them in the kitchen. I was about to ask Ava to fetch one, when I realized there was one member of Carrie's group who hadn't joined the goodbye party at the door—Nolan Becker, who at the moment was being flirted with by my serving help. Though, the way that Nolan was smiling down at her and maybe even flirting back a little, I didn't have the heart to break it up.
"Let me just slip into the kitchen and grab a bottle for you," I told the woman. "I'll be right back."
"Thank you," she called as I retraced my steps to do just that.
Which took me a few minutes, as I realized the crowd had grown, spilling from the great room into the den, and even despite the chill in the air, out onto the back patios and around the blazing fire pit. I mumbled quite a few excuse me's and pardon me's as I bumped elbows with people and slid between laughing groups of Carrie's friends before I finally reached the kitchen and found the bottles of our Pinot Grigio. I grabbed two by the necks and, instead of shoving my way through the crowd again, decided to go around the back of the house and slip in through the side door. A little chillier, but probably faster. I wasn't sure how long my white wine loving woman would wait.
As soon as I pushed out the back door, a blast of cold air hit me, and I almost rethought my strategy. Instead, I quickly jogged as fast as my three inch heels would allow along the side of the building, toward the side door. I was shivering by the time I slipped back inside, coming into a small mudroom. From my earlier tour of the house with Carrie, I knew the hallway to the left led back to the great room—I could hear the sounds of the party at a dull roar. To my right was a stairway that led up to the second floor, where the bedrooms were located. I took a step toward the hallway, when a familiar voice caught my attention, coming from the stairwell above.
"…know why I'm asking, Bertie."
Death in Wine Country (Wine & Dine Mysteries Book 5) Page 2
