3 Savor (7 page)

“Always,” she said with a smile,
absently running a hand over the side of an oak barrel.

Despite his recent weeklong coma
and the last few days of home rest she’d tried to enforce, his eyes still had
dark circles under them. He refused to admit he was tired. The murder case had
him tied up in knots. The trial would begin in a little over a week and he
planned to be ready.

“He was tired of me nagging him to
rest,” Billie said, “so he insisted I come over here and check things out while
he goes through all his evidence and witness reports again.”

“Sounds more fun than watching him
not
rest,” Margaret teased. “He never
has been able to sleep more than four or five hours a night when he’s working a
case. But I guess you know that by now.”

“Yep, I learned the hard way.”
Billie pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He tries not to wake me
up, but the quieter he dresses and moves about the room, the more alert I am to
his every movement.”

Margaret stifled a yawn. “I didn’t
get much sleep last night myself.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

Margaret looked at her strangely.
“Did you forget Adam was playing the club again? I wanted to stay awake for his
show and I drank too much caffeine. I didn’t get home until after one and I
still couldn’t sleep. He did fantastic, by the way.”

Billie shook her head. “I
completely forgot about Adam’s gig at The Screech Owl. I wish we could have
been there.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be playing
there a lot. I think they’re signing him as a regular.”

“That’s great.” She knew he wanted
to be a musician and that he did the accounting for Fredrickson’s more or less
as a favor to her, but if he quit completely she would really miss him being
around.

“Did I hear you talking to Hazel
out there?” she asked and made a face. “That woman stopped by here Tuesday
morning and wanted to speak with you. I told her you weren’t in. She was
complaining about hearing gunfire over here.” She shook her head. “She’s as
batty as a…” she stopped, seeing the look on Billie’s face. “What?”

“Actually, we did have some
uninvited guests drop by Monday night.”

“Are you talking about the same
person who ran over the flowerbeds?”

“Sorry, I didn’t tell you, but
Handel and I thought we should keep that part quiet for now. The winery has
gotten enough bad press and with Sally’s ability to spread the news, it would
be all over Napa Valley within minutes.” She told Margaret all the gory
details, not even leaving out the part where Handel came
running–completely naked–to save her.

“So the police think they were just
vandals?”

“That’s the way it looks.”

“But?”

Billie shrugged. “It’s not the way
it felt. There was something bold about the way they spun around in our yard
and then very calmly drove right up to our front door, took aim at my head, and
pulled the trigger. They wanted to be seen. They wanted to be feared,” she said
slowly, thinking aloud. “Vandals usually sweep in when they’re sure no one will
be home. They leave a mess and run away, anonymous. Right? But these guys,” she
shook her head, “were making a point.”

“I don’t understand.”

She didn’t want to scare Margaret,
but it was better to be aware of the danger than oblivious, wasn’t it? “It may
have something to do with Handel’s case.”

The door opened at the top of the
stairs and Sally yelled down. “Billie? You down there?”

She hurried over. “What’s up?”

“I thought I saw you sneaking
around the back way,” Sally said with a look of satisfaction as though she’d
solved a Time’s crossword puzzle. “We’ve got a problem out there.”

“Is Hazel complaining about the
noise again?” she asked, starting up the stairs.

“Noise? I don’t think she’ll have a
problem with that today.” Sally leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her
arms. “The band didn’t show. I called the number we had for them, but the guy I
talked to on the phone said they were sick with the flu. Sounded more like they
were all hung over to me. I looked at their website and they played for a
wedding party last night.”

“Awesome.” Billie put her hands on
her head and groaned. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another. The one venue that
seems to bring in money is canceled due to lack of entertainment. I hope those
people don’t want a refund on the wine they bought for the concert.”

Margaret followed her up the
stairs. “Maybe you could ask Adam to fill in.”

Sally snorted. “That’ll be the day!

“Hey! I resent that,” Billie said,
leading the way down the hall to the front office. “I have no problem asking
Adam to fill in. I think he’s an excellent choice. I just don’t want to impose
on him anymore than I already have.”

The office door was open and
leaning back in Sally’s leather desk chair, feet up on the desk, was Adam. He
grinned smugly. “I’m flattered,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and
rocking the chair as he leaned. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of my
talents.”

She narrowed her eyes at Sally.
“Thanks a lot,” she said in a stage whisper.

“Bringing families together,” she
said, spreading her arms wide. “It’s what I do.”

Margaret stepped in front of
Billie, shielding her from Adam’s smug grin. “This is your winery, Billie. Your
responsibility. We get that. But we’re also your family. We’re ready and
willing to do whatever it takes to get people out here and bring Fredrickson’s
sales up.” She glanced back and gave Adam a soft smile. “Trust me, if anyone
can serenade those people and get the wine flowing, it’s your brother.”

“Sounds like he’s already been
serenading somebody in this room,” Sally said from her perch on the corner of
the desk.

Billie stepped around Margaret and
leaned over the desk, meeting her brother’s grin with one of her own. “Well,
don’t just sit there, little brother. We’ve got wine to sell.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He got
up, smoothed his hair back and picked up the guitar he’d propped in the corner.
It was almost as though they’d planned the whole thing. At the door, he hooked
a thumb over his shoulder toward the tasting room. “Better get Loren some extra
help in there. He’s gonna need it,” he promised, and strutted off singing, “I’m
coming up, so you better get this party started.”

They all laughed when he was out of
earshot and Margaret covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe what
that man does to me when he plays. I swear, I feel like I’m sixteen again at an
‘N Sync concert.”

Sally leaned in and lowered her
voice to a whisper. “I’ll lie and deny it like a politician if he ever hears
this from either of you. But,” she met Billie’s eyes and winked, “your brother
is one hot…”

Billie covered her ears.
“mmmmmmmmmmm,” she hummed loudly enough to block out the last words.

Margaret grabbed Sally’s hand and
pulled her toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go catch the show. Maybe he’ll do
that thing he did last night.”

Billie released a sigh once they’d
gone. This was obviously going to be one of those days. She shut off the office
light and pulled the door closed before following the sound of voices and
laughter to the tasting room. Loren and Sammie were in full swing, filling
glasses and chatting up the customers. About twenty people were wandering
around, or sitting at the tables talking and drinking. Not bad.

Loren looked up and waved when he
saw her. “Billie. Didn’t expect to see you around here today,” he said as she
approached the bar. His long black hair was pulled into a ponytail and he wore
a faded blue biker scarf over his head. He must have ridden his bike in today.
He owned an Indian Chief vintage motorcycle and had already talked Sally into
taking a road trip with him after harvest. Billie couldn’t imagine Sally riding
on the back of a cruiser down the Interstate. She’d be much too worried about
messing up her hair.

 
He poured a glass of wine for a
middle-aged woman in plaid shorts and a red shirt, and waited for her to rejoin
her friends before asking, “How’s Handel doing? Was the party too much for him
Monday night?”

“No, he’s fine,” she said, and
smiled. “The party was a pleasant surprise. He really enjoyed it. I’m glad you
and Sally could be part of it.”

“No problem. Sally wouldn’t have it
any other way. She’s known Handel a long time. She was really worried about him
there for a while.” He leaned over the bar, palms planted on the smooth top.
His eyes roamed the room off and on keeping track of his customers. “Ever
wonder what coma patients think about? I’ve always thought it would be like a
higher state of consciousness, like my ancestors found in their sweat lodge
ceremonies.”

Billie raised her brows. “You mean
after smoking the peace pipe?” she teased.

He reached for a bar towel and
wiped the walnut counter until it gleamed. “I think the brain is too complex to
just be sitting on idle, you know?”

A young blonde woman rushed up to
the counter to purchase a bottle for the concert outside. Her friends waited by
the door, carrying a blanket and tiny cooler. She paid her bill, took the
bottle and some of the free disposable wine glasses and headed out.

“I guess I’ll go check out the
entertainment. It seems to be quite popular with the younger crowd,” she said,
watching more young women enter the door.

“I’m surprised. Usually the jazz
bands bring in yuppyish forty-somethings.”

“You’re right. But the group I had
booked didn’t show.”

“No kidding. What are you going to
do?” He poured a glass with his own special blend of Sangria and slid it toward
Billie.

“Thanks.” Taking a sip, she looked
around. Another group of young women peered in the door. She frowned. This was
certainly a younger crowd than usual. She told Loren, “We’re using talent from
within today. Our very own Adam Fredrickson is at the mic.”

Loren’s smile lit up his dark eyes.
“I think I better take a break and go keep an eye on my lady. I assume Sally
ran right out there to gawk at him.” He signaled Sammie, who was busy clearing
glasses left behind by departing guests, to take his place behind the bar.

Sammie hurried over. Or at least he
hurried as quickly as Sammie ever did. He had retired from the navy and set up
residence in the valley so he could be near his adult children. Two of them
lived in Calistoga and one in San Francisco. Like most retired men, he was
bored, so he worked part time at the winery.

“Ma’am,” he saluted her as though
she were his senior officer.

“How’s it going, Sammie?”

“Pretty damn good,” he said, as
usual. “Say, how’s your husband doing? I heard he was out of the hospital and
back home.” He slipped behind the bar and set the tray of dirty glasses down
under the counter. “That was some accident, huh? One of my pals in the navy once
fell off the…”

Loren interrupted him with a hand
on his arm. “We’re going outside. Could you handle the dispensing of firewater
on your own for a bit?” He flipped the bar towel over Sammie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, chief.”

Loren followed Billie out the open
front doors into the bright afternoon sun. They were both surprised to see a
line of cars slowly turning into the winery. The parking lot was nearly full
and cars were pulling off the driveway onto the grass shoulder.

Under a clear blue sky, the sun glinted
off windshields and people in shorts and t-shirts meandered through the
vehicles making their way toward the winery. Most had come prepared with lawn
chairs or blankets. Apparently word had gone out. But how?

“What is going on?” Billie stood
with her hands on her hips looking around at the robust crowd like she’d fallen
into Oz.

She heard Adam over the speakers,
strumming an old classic Paul Anka song.
A
steel guitar and a glass of wine
. She recognized it right away. Their
mother used to play it on the record player when they were kids. Sabrina wasn’t
really from that era of music, but she loved it all the same and had shared her
love of it with them.

Billie smiled, and decided Adam was
a genius. “I think it’s about time I witnessed my brother’s charisma.”

 
They turned the corner of the building as
he was belting out the chorus. “
Bring me
wine! Make the music mine…”
Women, young and old alike, were swaying to the
beat, all eyes on the auburn haired guitar god on stage.

Billie laughed out loud, unable to
keep it in. Her brother really was something.

He segwayed into another of Anka’s
hits. The mellow, romantic love song had every woman wishing to share a glass
of wine with the man on stage.
“…in a
room where passions flow…”

Loren was scanning the crowd for a
glimpse of Sally. He pointed up front, close to the stage. Margaret and Sally
were in the thick of things, dancing and laughing, making sure they were Adam’s
biggest fans. Loren leaned in and spoke close to her ear so she could hear over
the music. “How does it feel to have a brother wanted by so many women?”

Billie grinned and sang along,
“…and I need you. I love you so. And I want
you…”

He shook his head. “Needs drums,”
he grumbled.

•••••

When Adam took a break to rest his
throat, women swarmed up front to meet him and no doubt told him just how
wonderful he was. Loren had already returned to his post at the bar by that
time, but Billie watched from a distance, arms crossed, a small smile on her
face.

Margaret and Sally broke away from
the mob and joined her. They were both starry eyed and pink-cheeked from their
enthusiastic support of her brother. She saw Adam look up over the heads of his
admirers and catch her eye. She grinned and blew him a kiss.

“Whew!” Sally fanned her hand in
front of her face. “My oh my,” she said in a terrible southern belle accent,
“that boy can sing. He sent my blood pressure skyrocketing.”