by J. C. Eaton
I did at least three mental eye rolls and one silent scream. “Can’t the initials represent something else? Drop the west side part of the title, since no one uses it anyway, except for my sister, and have the WOW stand for Winery Owners of the West. That would work, wouldn’t it?”
“Norrie, you’re a genius,” Stephanie said. “So? Is it agreed, ladies? The Grey Egret joins our group?”
Everyone said, “Yes,” and Madeline announced she’d call Don and Theo to let them know the news.
“I hope the Federweisser portion doesn’t take too long,” Rosalee said. “I’ve got some pressing business to deal with.”
“Everything okay?” Catherine asked.
“Not really, but I don’t want to take up all of your time.”
Madeline looked at each one of us. “It’ll be fine. Go ahead.”
Rosalee clasped her hands together and squeezed them tight. She sat up even straighter than before. “It’s our water situation. At the winery, not the house. Fortunately, the house is located close enough to the road so we get water from the village waterline. The winery wasn’t that lucky, and the village has no intention of expanding its waterline. Anyway, we’ve been getting the water for our vineyards from the lake, and we truck in potable water for our own use at the winery. Lots of lakeshore wineries use a surface water source as well as a commercial one.”
She paused for a moment and none of us said a word.
“We paid for a special waterline that went through the Baxters’ property. For years we paid them for the land use. No different than someone owning a mobile home but renting the lot. It was a fair and reasonable price. Then, a few months ago, the Baxters sold their property and moved to Texas. The new owner jacked up the price to an astronomical level. He said if we don’t pay, he’ll cut off our water access.”
“My God!” Madeline put her coffee cup down and covered her mouth.
“How can they do that?” Stephanie asked. “That’s highway robbery.”
Rosalee’s voice sounded shaky. “I’m afraid they can and they will. Without water, our vineyards will be destroyed and our winery gone for good.”
My heart began beating faster. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“There are stopgap measures, like having nonpotable water trucked in and placed in huge holding tanks. We’ve already started to do that, but it’s an awfully expensive way to get water. That’s why I’m headed into Geneva to see our attorney. Maybe we have legal rights. If not, we’re doomed.”
Catherine made a strange chortling sound. Something in between clearing her throat and gargling. “What kind of a selfish thug would do a thing like that? Terrace Wineries has been in the Finger Lakes since before I was even born. This isn’t right. Clearly, there must be something we can do.”
Rosalee gave a halfhearted smile. “Thanks, dear. I’m hoping my attorney will have an answer. Or even a decent idea. Anyway, I really must go. I’m sure you’ll all get on fine with the rest of the meeting. Thank goodness the Federweisser event is at Two Witches this year and not my place. I’m sure Norrie will do a splendid job.”
With that, Rosalee picked up her floral pocketbook, which looked as if it could double as a carpetbag, and headed out of the room. The rest of us sat there in silence for a few seconds before Madeline spoke.
“My husband’s a county board representative. I’m going to see what he has to say about this. Rosalee was right, you know. About the wineries on the lake having to get their water from the lake. What if some of them are in the same predicament she is? Putting in pipelines and paying for land use because they don’t own the property rights. A greedy land owner could really put the screws to them.”
“I think we should call Henry Speltmore. He’s in charge of the wine association. Maybe he has an idea or two floating around in his head,” Stephanie said.
Madeline laughed. “If he does, that would be a first. But yeah, give him a call. He’s a nice enough guy, and it couldn’t hurt. Well, I suppose we should get on with the last piece of business—the Federweisser.”
I squirmed around in my seat, certain they were going to ask me what we had planned for the event. I knew I should’ve paid more attention to Cammy, our tasting room manager, when she went over the food menu for the Federweisser, but I didn’t. I was too busy trying to get a dialogue straight in my mind for a scene that had to be worked out for my screenplay.
Same thing with Franz, our winemaker. He must’ve explained the process for making Federweisser to me at least three times, but I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure I understood. Something about adding yeast to grapes so they fermented quickly. Oh, and the sugar. I remembered that part. The sugar in the grapes turns into alcohol and carbon dioxide, and when it reaches four percent, it becomes Federweisser, a really cool drink that tastes like a champagne soda. The thing is, the alcohol percentage keeps growing, so the Federweisser has to be consumed within a few days. Otherwise, the stuff just becomes regular wine.
“Entertainment. Didn’t you hear me, Norrie?”
“Huh?” I looked at Madeline and knew she had asked me a question, but I was too busy trying to recall the last two conversations I’d had that I didn’t pay attention to.
“Um, can you repeat that?”
Stephanie jumped in before Madeline could reply. “She asked if you were having any entertainment at the Federweisser. Last year, when it was held at Rosalee’s, they hired a polka band.”
I don’t suppose watching Alvin, our Nigerian Dwarf Goat, spit at people constitutes entertainment. “Uh, yeah. We’re working on that. But everything else is all set.” And if it’s not, it will be.
Madeline nodded and gave me a thumbs-up. “That sounds fine. Let us know if there’s anything you need. We’ll all make it a point to advertise for you, and we’ll be sure to drop by for the festivities. Goodness. That’s only three weeks away. My, how time goes by.”
Not fast enough, judging by the length of this meeting.
“Well, ladies,” Madeline said. “That about concludes the meeting for me, unless anyone else wants to bring up something.”
My eyes widened, and I held my breath.
Madeline clapped her hands together, startling us. “Okay then. We’ll meet again right before the Federweisser. And if my husband has any bright ideas about how the county can help Rosalee, I’ll let you know.”
The next few minutes were spent commiserating about the mess Terrace Wineries was in, and then we all left Madeline’s place. Stephanie motioned for me to chat with her once we got to the parking lot. I walked over to her car as she clicked the door open.
“You’re a good sleuth, Norrie. Think you can dig up the dirt on that new landowner who’s bilking Rosalee?”
“Me? I’m not an investigator.”
“No. You’re better. You get answers. They get red tape. Look, I’d be willing to do some checking, too, as long it’s on the Internet. Between the winery and two first graders, I’m lucky I can get through the day with a coherent thought. Not to mention, we’ll be closing on the Waters property in a few weeks.”
“That’s right. I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“Me, too. Elsbeth’s niece, Yvonne, couldn’t sell that B & B fast enough, but she knew it would be a tough sale with all that land. Fortunately, she was able to have it divided up so we could buy the property for vineyards and someone else could buy the B & B.”
“Did she find a buyer for the business?”
“Uh-huh. I’m not sure who, but she said they were thrilled to run a bed and breakfast in the Finger Lakes.”
“Did she say anything else? Like what she plans to do?”
“Not really. She was kind of tight-lipped about it. Can you blame her?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Anyway, let me know if you decide to poke around regarding that crummy water hog of Rosalee’s.”
“Sure thing.”
“At least you don’t have to find a murderer this time.”
“You’re not superstitious are you?”
“No, just careful.”
I waved good-bye to the other ladies in the parking lot and drove home. Maybe I was just a tad superstitious, but at least I wasn’t downright loony, like Glenda from our tasting room. I still couldn’t believe I let her hold that ridiculous séance to contact Elsbeth’s restless spirit. Stephanie was right. This time I’d be snooping around to dig up dirt, not a dead body.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
J.C. Eaton is the wife-and-husband team of Ann I. Goldfarb and James E. Clapp. Ann has published eight YA time travel mysteries. Visit their website at www.jceatonauthor.com.
