Silenced By Syrah (3 page)

“It is so good to see you, Mademoiselle Nikki,” he said, his French accent rolling off the end of each word.

She went to shake his hand. He took it and kissed it instead and tucked a piece of salt-and-pepper hair back into his ponytail, revealing a large diamond stud earring. Nikki found him sort of cute in a weird, over-fifty, eccentric, French chef kind of way. Maybe it was the dimples when he smiled, or that twinkle. Whatever it was, even with his offbeat behavior, she thought Georges charming.

“It is soo difficult to maintain control here. My partner is late. I will kill Baron when I see him. Never have an Irishman as your partner.”

Nikki had only met Baron O’Grady twice before and he came off as the quintessential Irishman, brogue included.

“Baron is likely off drinking whiskey on the job,” Georges continued. He waved a hand through the air. “Enough of that, though. Come on, you are here to tell me about the
vin
and I am here to look at those green eyes of yours.
Oui?
”

No. But whatever. He looked around. “Janie! Where is Janie?”

A young twentysomething woman walked around the corner. She was petite, pretty, with long blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and freckles dotting her nose that made her look childlike. She came up next to Georges. “I was making sure the escargot you ordered from the city had arrived.”

“
Oui
. You have met my
assistant
, Janie Creswell. My angel from God.”

“Oh Georges, don’t lie to Nikki. I am not an angel.”

Nikki smiled as the two of them laughed at the comment. “Nice to see you again, Janie.”

Georges said, “You are an angel.”

Nikki had not figured these two out yet. It was weird because they bantered back and forth and seemed to share a certain intimacy, but he still flirted with every other woman around, and Janie wore an engagement ring.

“Why don’t we go into the bar and go over the wines for this evening?” Nikki said.

“
Oui
. Janie?”

“Right behind you,” she replied, notebook in hand.

Nikki had never seen the girl without a notebook.

They entered the bar, elegantly painted in Tuscan tones of gold, champagne, sage, and burgundy. Malveaux Estate wines sat on glass shelving behind the bar, reflected in the mirror that covered the rear wall.

“You tell me about the
vin
and I tell you more about Georges,” the chef said.

Nikki tried to laugh. Janie gave Georges a dirty look. “I am only teasing,” Georges said.

“I’m sorry. He’s incorrigible. I do try to keep him in line,” Janie said.

“Keep me in line.
Blaspheme
. I do not need to be kept in line. I am a good boy. Very
bon
.” He winked at Nikki.

Okay, robbing the cradle and trying to get two women in his bed.

“Georges,” an attractive woman seated at one at the end of the bar called out.

“
Oui
, Lauren?”

“I have some questions. I’m meeting with Rick and we need to ask you a few things before we go forward on some of these campaigns. He’ll be right back; he went to the men’s room.”

“Is that not why I hire you? To do the job? Get it done. You are the best. I have been told that. I was not lied to, was I?” he snipped. “I do not have time for questions now. Do your job.
Oui?
”

“That’s true, but we are dealing with
your
money here, and Rick and I need some approvals, and he needs to show you a few things on the books. Can we get five minutes of your time?”

Georges sighed. “Come, Mademoiselle Nikki. Meet Madame Lauren Trump.”

“No relation to The Donald,” Lauren replied and stood to shake Nikki’s hand. She had a firm handshake—all business. She wore a cream-colored suit and peach blouse, and had recently spent time in either a tanning booth, the sun, or in a spray-tan booth. She had silvered hair, cropped short in a pixie, and there weren’t any visible lines on her face. Classic, elegant type of beauty. Either one helluva plastic surgeon or someone who aged really well, because she had to be in her fifties and it had nothing to do with the silvering of her hair, but rather there was a glint of wisdom in her eyes that reminded Nikki of Aunt Cara, who had raised her. The kind of glint that only comes from many years of living, loving, and learning. “Lauren Trump. I’m Georges’ marketing director for his restaurant in the city and now I’m going to be doing some things here at the vineyard for this restaurant. I also work for Rothschild, Georges’ publisher, but only on Georges’ books.”

“I see. Nice to meet you. I’m Nikki Sands, the winery’s manager.” A spicy, mandarin scent wafted her way. Must have been Lauren’s perfume. Strong, but fitting for the woman.

“Fantastic. Maybe we can meet up soon and discuss some kind of campaign with the winery. I know you’ve been helping Mr. Malveaux with the notes on the book and passing them on to Georges. I think that’s wonderful. I’m surprised we haven’t met before. Granted Georges and I usually conduct our meetings in the city, but I’m certain I’ll be spending more time out here in the wine country seeing how Georges’ new restaurant will be the hottest thing around.” She turned to Georges and winked; he smiled and winked back at her.

“Absolutely. Give me a call.” Nikki handed her a card. She knew when Derek had set out on this venture that the restaurant would be an almost separate entity. Sure it was in conjunction with the vineyard, but Derek and the rest of them had no clue how to run a restaurant. That was why he’d brought in Georges and his partner, Baron, and had given them control in that department.

“Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Debussey. I see Lauren got your attention.”

A slight man walked into the restaurant, he, too, wearing business attire—a charcoal suit. His hair, the color of sand, was almost shade for shade the color of his skin. Quite a contrast to Lauren Trump’s tan. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and as mean as Nikki knew the thought was, and as hard as she tried to shove it away, the word “nerd” popped into her mind. Knowing that was not nice, she stretched out her hand and introduced herself before Georges had a chance to.

“Hello,” he replied. “I’m Rick Moran. Hello Ms. Creswell.” He nodded at Janie, who briefly glanced up from her notebook to reply.

Funny how Ms. Trump hadn’t even looked Janie’s way, even though Janie stood behind Nikki, almost as if she were trying to hide.

“I’m Mr. Debussey’s accountant,” Mr. Moran added.

Accountant? Yep. That fit. Jeesh! She really had to stop thinking in terms of stereotypes.

“Rick, stop calling me Mr. Debussey. I am Georges. Now what is the problem?”

“Maybe it would be a good idea to discuss financial matters in private,” Rick said and gave Nikki a half-hearted smile.

“Actually that’s not a problem for me. Janie? Why don’t we go in the other room and talk about the wines together and you can fill Georges in?” Nikki suggested.

“Sure,” she replied with cheerleader enthusiasm.

Georges sighed and faced Rick Moran. “Make this quick.” He waved a hand at Janie and Nikki. “I will be with you in a moment. I am so sorry.”

Nikki and Janie walked outside to the patio dining area. This place was definitely going to be a hit. Nikki breathed it all in. This was where she and Andrés would sit tonight, right out here. But would that be too romantic?

They had just sat down when Georges came outside.

“That
was
quick,” Janie said.

“Bah. They did not need me to make the decision. Conservative.” He looked at Nikki and smiled. “Accountants are
conservateurs
, and Lauren, she is not and I am not. I take
risque
and Lauren
comprends
this. Rick no. I make the
décision
that I know Lauren wants to hear and Rick, he will have to make the money work out. Nikki, Lauren will phone you next week. I want to have a grand campaign over the next few months and she thinks that we need to include the Château, as do I. You will discuss this with Derek,
oui
?”

“Sure.” Nikki had learned Frenchlish over time. Most of Georges’ words were easy to follow and she’d learned that Château was Georges’ word for winery, as that is what they’re called in France. “Is Lauren still here? I can maybe get some thoughts from her before I leave today and speak with Derek tomorrow.”

“I told her to have a visit at the spa. Maybe tonight you will see her at the fete.” He laughed. “I did not invite Monsieur Moran. He would not spend the money on a gourmet dinner, and I do not want to treat him.”

“Georges, he’s your financial advisor and accountant. Don’t you think you should invite him tonight?” Janie suggested.

Georges rolled his eyes. “I am irritated with Monsieur Moran. He has made some errors as of late and I am considering replacing him anyway. Enough of that. Let us open a bottle of
vin
, and you tell me what we will
recommendons
for the soiree at Georges on the Vineyard.”

“Actually, I thought we would do a tasting rather than having a bottle right now. You know, sample each one. I can give you my recommendations on what to pair the wine with and you can decide from there. Let me grab a spittoon. And get someone in the bar area to bring out the wines.”

“Spit? I do not spit.
Je bois. Ouvre le vin
.”

Janie touched his hand. “Georges. It’s a really big night. Maybe you should wait to start celebrating, you know.”

It was then that Nikki noticed the addition to the ring on Janie’s finger. Along with the small, delicate, not-even-one-carat diamond ring—but pretty and simple like the young woman—was now a gold band. Nikki also noticed Georges’ eyes soften as Janie touched his hand. Wait a minute. Were they married? Janie had to be at least half his age.

“Fine. No
vin
.” He patted her hand and smiled. “Mademoiselle Nikki, write down the list for me. I know the servers are versed in the
vin
already. If you look at my menu for the night, and tell me what to have the servers recommend, that is what I will do.”

“Sure. I can do that. You don’t want to do a tasting, then?”

“I cannot simply taste
vin
, mademoiselle. You tell me which to have the waiters
servirant
, and I
boirai
later.” Georges looked at his Rolex. “Where is Baron? Janie, phone him!”

“Did ya call me name?” A round-shouldered man approached them. He wore a light green T-shirt that matched his eyes and a pair of jeans that met the T-shirt at the hem. His paunch of a belly showed through as he extended his hand to Nikki. “Nice to see ya again, Miss Sands. The Frenchy givin’ ya fits?” Dark Irishman down to the brogue and black hair. “Lauren tole’ me where I could find ya.”

“Lauren is not gone, yet?” Georges asked. “I told her to go take a spa treatment.”

“She was in the lobby in the hotel when I passed her twenty or so minutes ago and she tole’ me where ya were.” He blushed. “It took me that long to take the walk up here. Phew, mighty steep that trail is.”

“Where have you been?” Georges roared.

“I’m sorry, old man. Calm down and don’t have yerself a heart attack. Who would take care of ya if that happened? Not me. I was on the telephone with me ma back on the Emerald Isle. She’s a wee bit lonely, today being her birthday and all and me pa gone now. I couldn’t hang up with her crying in me ear. Ye know.”

“
Oui
. You and your
mère
. It is late. You are lucky I think of you as my
ami
.”

“Oh yeah, mighty lucky to be yer friend. Ya should see the way he treats those he don’t care fer.” Baron winked at Nikki. “Listen Frenchy, why don’t ya take a load off and go for a spa treatment yerself like ya told me ya was gonna do when we talked on the phone this mornin’.”

“How could I go to the spa? You were not here. I had to cook and watch over the imbeciles in the kitchen. Did you hire that Bridgette? She does not know what she is doing.”

Baron laughed. “I’m here now. Go on to the spa with ya. Bridgette is fine and she’s a good helper.”

Georges let out something that sounded like a growl. Janie smiled at him. She turned a page in her notebook. “Baron is right. Take an hour to rest. You are scheduled for one of those Syrah bath splashes at the spa. Between the two of us and Nikki to help with the wine, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Hmmm?
Oui
. I do love the baths at the spa—relaxing and invigorating at once. I will go. Do not make mistakes. I will have
no
mistakes.” He took Nikki’s hand again and kissed it. “Mademoiselle, it has been nice to see you again. Tonight you will dine on food meant for the kings and queens.” He nodded at Baron and Janie, and stood.

“I better get in the kitchen,” Baron said. “Good day, miss.”

With the two men gone, Janie turned to Nikki. “He’s a handful. They both are. Oh God, working with them can drive me crazy, but they’re really great. And together, well, they might fight but you know what, it works. They’ve been cooking together for years. They really love each other. The best of friends. Baron is the only one I’ve seen who can get away with any crap, except for me.”

Nikki couldn’t help but ask. The girl had opened the door, after all. “You and Georges are . . .”

“What?”

Nikki looked at the ring. Janie caught on. “Oh my God, no. Georges is like a father to me. I’ve worked with him for about a year. I’m married. Almost a month now.” She blushed. “My husband is in law school in San Francisco. We’re debating what we’re going to do because he clerks for a firm there, and now with Georges opening the restaurant here, I don’t know. I mean I’m the one making the money right now, so it’s not like I can afford to lose the job. Plus, I really love it, you know? I mean it’s totally cool but hard on me and Trevor. I don’t know. He’s coming to visit this weekend and we’re gonna have to talk to Georges and see what he says.”

What to say? Old standby. “Good luck. I’m sure it’ll work out.”