Stuffed French Toast and Mimosas
Maybe Nikki should be watching that waist of hers, but stuffed French toast is one of those scrumptious meals that is too difficult to pass up. Plus, there is no better way to take the edge off when people are being just plain icky and rotten than digging into this delightful morning treat. A mimosa is the perfect match for this specialty breakfast.
1¼ cups sliced strawberries
½ cup of sugar
1 teaspoon brandy
¼ cup grated orange peel
4 eggs
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1 tbsp brandy
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
12 slices of egg bread or brioche (thickly cut)
1 tbsp butter
8 tsp mascarpone cream
Powdered sugar
Butter
Maple syrup
In bowl, mix strawberries, sugar, brandy and orange peel. Let it sit for 30 minutes.
For French toast, beat eggs in medium bowl. Add the cream, sugar, vanilla and brandy. Soak bread in egg mixture. Melt butter on griddle and place bread on and cook for about 4 minutes on each side. Remove from griddle and spread 2 teaspoons mascarpone cream and ¼ cup strawberry mixture in middle and fold in half until cheese melts and strawberries warm up. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve with butter and syrup. Pour mimosas.
Six
BY the time Nikki had made it back to the house, anger had taken over. Do you believe in fate? She’d deleted the stupid text. What the hell? There were a handful of people who would love to throw a kink into the Sands/ Malveaux wedding. Nikki could think of a few in just a matter of seconds—people who might find pleasure in having Nikki all riled up and feeling on edge just two days before her nuptials, as if she needed any more things to set her off. Well, she wasn’t going to let any of that get to her. She stood up straight and marched down the cobblestone pathway that led to their front porch, more determined than ever to marry the man of her dreams. Then she stopped dead in her tracks.
Sitting on the porch swing was one of those people who would love to put a kink into the week of wedding festivities. “Patrice,” Nikki said, void of any emotion.
Simon’s mother stood. She hadn’t changed much— still with the taut face that had been exposed to too much plastic surgery, the fake fingernails that reminded Nikki of claws, the designer outfit over nips and tucks that gave the seventy-year-old woman the body of a thirty-year-old, and, of course, the blond hair that underneath the pale gold color was surely white. Patrice brought her hand up to a diamond cross hanging from her neck. “Hello, Nicole.”
“Nikki.”
“Yes. It’s so nice to see you.”
Nikki took a step back. Where the hell was Ollie? Probably asleep in her and Derek’s bed. Some watchdog. Who knew how long the old wench had been sitting outside just waiting to get under Nikki’s skin. Surely Patrice’s visit wasn’t a call of congeniality and graciousness. “Really? Nice to see me? Come on. I wish I could say the same thing, but let’s be real here, you don’t like me and I don’t like you. At all.”
Patrice’s lips eased into a tight smile. “Darling, can’t we let bygones be bygones? We are, after all, about to be family. And I adore the new look. It’s so much more Napa Valley chic than that mousy look you had before.”
Nikki shook her head. “I really don’t know why you’re here. I mean, I can guess. A few reasons. One, you want the winery or the estate or something, and you see my marriage to your stepson as a problem, because I know that you think this should all be yours, but that wasn’t the deal.”
Patrice crossed her arms in front of her. “Yes well, the deal is that I do still own a quarter of the winery, along with the main house.”
“Great. Then I think we should discuss buying you out. Face it, you don’t want to be here any more than Derek and I want you here, and I doubt that even your own son wants you close by. I believe his pet name for you is ‘Mommy Dearest.’ ”
“Oh, dear.” She clucked her tongue. “You may be mistaken. I’ve had a nice conversation with my son this morning, and had a wonderful time with my grand-daughter, and I believe that Simon has no issue with me being close by. In fact, seeing that I own the villa on the hill, I have decided that I am going to be moving back into it. Simon and Marco and Violet can stay as long as they like until they find other accommodations. You see, I need a new home, and I so love the wine country. I’ve missed it. I feel home again, and my new husband absolutely adores it.”
Nikki balled up her palms. “New husband?” Oh boy, the writing was on the wall. This was all becoming just a little too clear for Nikki.
“Yes. You’ll get to meet him at your rehearsal dinner. He’s adorable. He’s actually tanning himself by the pool up at the main house. My house.”
Nikki sighed. “Patrice, you’re not invited to my wedding and you are not invited to our rehearsal dinner.”
“Let me be frank. No matter what you think or say, we are about to be family, and yes, I do know that I have caused you some problems in the past. I am truly sorry for that. I had no control over Meredith, and what she and Cal tried to do to you and Derek. I didn’t know they were cold-blooded murderers. I really didn’t.” Patrice’s eyes teared up.
This could not be for real. “Whether or not you knew they were killers, you were all gung ho for Meredith to try to win back Derek, get pregnant so there was an heir. Then, because she was your daughter, a fact which, let me remind you, no one knew but you, you and Meredith would have had control over the estate and the winery. But that didn’t happen because your daughter lost her marbles and planned to kill Derek and me, too. So, this sob act you have going? I’m not buying it.”
“I’ve changed. I really have, and I think in all fairness you should give me the chance to prove it. I’m Violet’s grandmother and you’re her godmother. Can’t we move forward, forget the past? It’s fate that we’ve been brought together as a family.” She rubbed the cross again around her neck.
“What did you say?” Nikki asked.
“Let’s forget the past.”
“No, about fate?”
“That we should be a family.”
Nikki glared at her for a second, then turned around and unlocked her front door. Once inside she turned back around before slamming it in Patrice’s face, yelling, “Fate nothing. We will never be family. You and me. Never. And you are not coming to my wedding.”
Hands shaking, Nikki went to her bedroom and changed quickly into a pair of shorts and T-shirt, and put on her running shoes. She glanced over at the bed and, sure enough, the Ridgeback was spread out across it, half the covers on him. Ollie had a knack for pushing and pulling on the covers until he had them the way he liked them. His head rested on Nikki’s pillow. She smacked him lightly on the butt. “Get your ass up, you lazy bum. We’re going for a run.” Usually not much got Ollie moving, but he did like the jogs they took, so he pricked his ears and lifted his head. Nikki laced her shoes and stood up. “Let’s go, watchdog of the year.” Ollie jumped off the bed. Nikki grabbed his leash because she planned to take an extra long run and go on into town where she’d need the leash. She may not really have had the luxury of spare time, since there were preparations to check off for the big day, including the final fitting on her wedding gown, but at that moment all she wanted to do was get outside and run away from all of it.
And that’s what she did.
Nikki and Ollie took off down the dirt road, kicking up dust behind them. Chaparral and grape vines lined the pathways. She ran hard and fast, the colors of the early summer months in the wine valley all bleeding in together—shades of pale gold to mustard seed yellow, sand to mahogany soil, grapes the colors of palm fronds and deep purple, and overhead the sky was bright blue with a scatter of fluffy clouds here and there. The smells were a heavenly brew of wine, oak, olive, and something sweet and wild—maybe orange blossoms. It was why she ran like this. The colors, t
he smells, the sounds of birds singing and her feet pounding against the hard dirt, and her dog chasing after every rabbit—never catching one—melted all the crap away. At least for those moments. All the stress and anxiety—the hair, Derek’s friends, Patrice, Aunt Cara not coming to the wedding, the stupid note and text from some creep who called himself Moros Apate Thanatos—she knew she still had to look up the meaning of that, but there was so much going on, so much to handle she’d barely found a minute to breathe. Taking this run with the dog was something she knew would calm her and help her think clearly. She was right, as the negative feelings seemed to dissipate in the warm summer breeze that floated down from the hills of Napa and into the valley.
Nikki and Ollie ran until they came into the little town of Yountville. She thought about going in and seeing if Isabel would talk to her. Isabel’s restaurant Grapes was in Yountville, and Nikki had spent plenty of time there with Isabel and Andrés, eating good food, drinking good wine, and spending time with great company. But those days were behind her, and she knew she should let them go and leave Isabel alone.
They walked along the sidewalk, Ollie huffing and puffing away. She ducked into a store and bought a couple of large waters, and took Ollie to the quaint park area where she sat down on a bench and poured several handfuls of water into her palms for Ollie to drink from. Once he had his fill, she pounded her water and leaned back, closing her eyes and soaking in the sun. Ollie lay down at her feet, and they both daydreamed for a few minutes, until Nikki heard her name. Startled she opened her eyes. Shocked, she couldn’t speak. Before her stood Andrés Fernandez.
Seven
“ANDRÉS. Oh my gosh. Hi. I didn’t know you were in town.”
“Yes. I came back a couple of days ago. I have business here to take care of, and I wanted to see my sister. Your hair. It’s nice. Very pretty on you,” he said, his Spanish accent rolling off his tongue.
A flood of memories of times they’d spent together ran through Nikki’s mind.
She brought her hands up to the tips of her hair above her ears. “Thank you. You look great. And business is good with the winery in Spain?” And he did look great. That was no lie. Andrés had always been a handsome man with olive skin and dark eyes with lashes that were so thick they almost didn’t look real.
“The winery is good. Grapes are planted and in a few years we should have our first harvest, but I had always promised the winery here that I would come back and make wines for them until my first harvest is ready. I’ll have to go back at times to make sure everything is working fine, but I have good people working for me. And you? How are you? I hear you’re getting married.”
She shifted a little on the bench. “I am. Yes. Actually in two days.”
“Oh. Soon. Good for you. I think you and Derek will be happy together. I always thought that we would be happy together, too. But you once told me that the heart knows what the heart wants, and your heart didn’t want mine.”
Why didn’t he just take out a knife, stab it in her heart and twist at that moment. “I’m sorry. You know that I am. I thought we were okay. That you were okay.”
“I am, and you have no need to feel sorry. I have moved on.”
Those words moved on tugged at her a little bit and she wished they didn’t. “Good. So you’re seeing someone?”
“Maybe. I had a friend in Spain. She was lovely but not the one I wanted to finally make a life with. And I think you know that ultimately that’s what I’m looking for.”
“Yes. But then what’s this maybe all about, if the woman in Spain isn’t exactly what you want?”
He pointed to the bench. “May I?”
“Of course.” Why was it that things between two people who had once deeply cared about one another—and if the truth were told, they still cared about one another, it was simply that the way they cared had changed—could be so awkward in the way they communicated and acted around each other afterward? It was always like that with breakups. Even with people who didn’t have bad breakups. Nikki wished it wasn’t like that. But she couldn’t deny that she was happy to see him. There was something about him still that made her feel at ease, almost peaceful. The camaraderie between them had never been the problem. The chemistry, for Nikki at times, had.
He sat down. “I see you still like to run with your sidekick.” He scratched Ollie between the ears.
“He’s definitely my pal. I think he missed you.”
He smiled. “I missed him.”
“So tell me what’s going on.” Nikki didn’t want to walk down memory lane with him. She was afraid of the turmoil it might cause.
“Actually there is this woman, and you know her.”
Nikki felt her eyebrows shoot up. “I do?”
Andrés nodded. “Yes. See, she contacted me about a month ago, and we’ve been e-mailing each other back and forth about some ideas.”
“Ideas. What kind of ideas? Who is it? You said that it was someone that I knew.”
“Oh, well, there she is now. We’re planning on having lunch.” He pointed across the street to where an amazing looking woman sat—all golden and toned. Totally one of those women that all other women hate because she’s that gorgeous and men love because she’s that gorgeous.
Nikki recognized the woman and the convertible, a silver blue BMW, immediately. Renee Rothschild. “Renee? You’re interested in her?” Of course he was. Most men, all men, including Nikki’s man, had at one time or another been interested in Renee.
Renee Rothschild’s father owned a publishing house in San Francisco where Renee was the editor-in-chief. She also wrote a gossip-type column that was syndicated in newspapers on the West Coast. A couple of years back, Renee had been working on a cookbook with a chef who worked at Malveaux, but then the chef was tragically murdered. At the time, Renee decided it would be brilliant to do a book with Derek on wineries and spas and wanted to showcase the Malveaux Winery and Spa in the book. What she really wanted to do was get Derek in the sack, and she’d come awfully damn close. She’d even almost gone to Australia with Derek, who at the last moment changed his mind and asked Nikki to go.
Now what did she want with Andrés? And why was it upsetting Nikki to know that Andrés was interested in her?
“I do like her. We haven’t really had any dates, only back and forth with the e-mail. She’s working on a book about international winemakers, and she wants me to be the focus, I guess.”
“Of course.” Modus operandi hadn’t changed for Renee.
Andrés called out to her and waved at her. As Renee sauntered over, Nikki tried hard not to run away. Maybe Renee wouldn’t recognize her with the new ‘do.’ She was surprised that Andrés had, especially with her eyes closed.
“Oh, my goodness. Nikki, how nice to see you. I love your hair,” Renee said. “Glamorous. What are you doing here? Don’t you have a wedding to get ready for? I saw you and Derek in the paper.”
“Yes. I was out getting a little exercise with Ollie. I stopped for a rest, and Andrés found me here.”
“Ah, fate,” Renee said. “Nice.”
Nikki cringed, and Ollie lifted his head and growled. He’d never liked Renee. “Yes. Fate. I better be getting back, and you two better be working on that book. Andrés, please tell your sister hello. I miss her.”
“I will do that.”
Nikki put Ollie on the leash, and they started back toward the winery with Renee’s interesting choice of word ringing in her ears.
Eight
COULD anyone have a stranger couple of days leading up to their wedding? Not only had all the crazy stuff happened, but now it seemed like all the ghosts of Nikki’s past were coming back to haunt her. First Patrice and now Andrés and Renee. The even stranger part was that two out of three of the ghosts from Nikki’s past had both used the word “fate” when speaking to her.
She knew it was likely just a coincidence, but was it? What was Renee’s deal with Andrés? Did she just like to go after men that Nikki dated?
Or, again—coincidence?
There was no time to ponder it at all. She was officially running late after taking her late morning run. She’d had to reschedule the nail appointment Simon insisted on, and then she’d had to pick up her dress and call the caterers to make sure they added two vegetarian plates, as a couple of late replies had just come in. She then made it by the florists to drop off the final payment, and then she ran by the drugstore to pick up a few items—like new mascara and some eyeliner.
Planning their wedding had been quite a large undertaking. At first they’d agreed that smaller was better, and Derek helped as much as he could. Simon had really stepped in where he was needed, loving every second of playing wedding planner. He had much better design and fashion sense than Nikki did, so she pretty much allowed him to take over. The cake he’d chosen was five times more beautiful than any Nikki might have picked—lemon with raspberry cream, the top decorated with miniature rosebuds and plumeria. He just had that flair, and she was grateful that he did.
The problem was that the idea of a small wedding had gotten way out of hand. Although Nikki only had Simon and Alyssa standing up for her, and Derek only had Marco and Jonah, the guest list wasn’t reflective of the tiny wedding party. It seemed that Derek knew virtually everyone in Napa and Sonoma Counties, and almost everyone was important in some way to him or the business. By the time the final count had come in, they were expecting almost four hundred guests. Nikki felt that this was about three hundred and fifty too many, but what had gotten out of hand was now too late to rein in, so she was going to make do. Her focus needed to be on her groom and her day and not all of the people who would be attending.
A Toast to Murder Page 6
