To Brie or Not to Brie (14 page)

“Sylvie!” Grandmère chugged toward us, arms pumping, gaze smoldering. “What are you
doing here?”

“Charlotte invited me.”

“Chérie?”
Grandmère turned to me.

I lasered Sylvie with my best
liar, liar, pants on fire
gaze, but she didn’t balk. Rather than buckle myself—a weak habit that I was eager
to break—I concocted my own set of battle conditions. “Yes, I did invite Sylvie, because
she said how delighted she was about the wedding plans, and she couldn’t wait to see
the twins in their bridesmaids’ dresses. And guess what, Sylvie? You’re in luck.”
I held up a gleeful finger. “Girls, the dresses are here. I hung them in the bridal
dressing room inside the house. Go put them on. Your mother will be so thrilled.”
I petted Sylvie’s arm. “Won’t you, Sylvie, love?”

Amy dropped the dirndl outfits like stones and dashed away. Clair loped after her.

Grandmère eyed the pale green dresses and the old suitcase. “What are those?”

“Play outfits for the girls,” I said. “When they want to pretend they’re part of the
von Trapp family singers. Sylvie brought them. Isn’t she ever so much fun?” I added
an extra cube of sugar to my tone and winked at Sylvie.

She muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, but I was pretty sure it rhymed
with
witch
.

“Charlotte,” Tyanne called.

I shielded my eyes from the sun and gazed down the knoll. Tyanne, wearing a stylish
ecru linen suit, beckoned us to the white birdhouse gazebo. Matthew and Meredith paced
inside the gazebo, chins tilted upward as they took in the space. Iris, dressed in
a balloon of a floral dress that nearly swallowed her whole, her company tote slung
over her shoulder, hovered outside the gazebo. She examined the vines of white roses
that weaved up the latticework, and the lavender, hosta, and variegated pittosporum
bushes that surrounded the base. By the look on her face, she must have learned that
she was the final pick for wedding floral consultant. Her mouth was turned up in a
confident grin.

“We’re coming.” I slipped my hand around Grandmère’s elbow and escorted her down the
knoll to the gazebo. Over
my shoulder, I said, “Leave the suitcase, Sylvie, and join us. You can see for yourself
all the wonderful choices Matthew and Meredith have made.”

Grumbling, Sylvie followed.

I snuggled my grandmother. “How’s Pépère? How is he feeling?”

“He is still under the weather, but it is nothing. Do not worry.”

“I’ll make him some soup. I’ll put in all of his favorite things. Onions, kale, and
legumes.”

“Please,
chérie
. You have so much to worry about. You take care of yours”—she patted my arm—“and
I will take care of mine.”

“Nonsense. It’s not a bother.” I had all the ingredients in my kitchen at home and,
for me, cooking was therapy. Seeing stacks of moving boxes in my foyer growing larger
by the day was definitely making me feel sick at heart. Maybe downing soup would help
me drown my own sorrows.

“Gather ’round, everyone,” Tyanne said. “We wanted to walk you through the plan.”

Big blue organza bows were tied around the railing of the gazebo. An empty six-foot-tall
white rattan birdcage was situated to the right. A sample white chair and spray of
flowers stood beyond that.

Tyanne painted imaginary pictures with her hands. “I’ll set out rows of white chairs.
Meredith, you said the guest list was an intimate fifty, so there won’t be a ton of
chairs, but they’ll be well spaced and elegant. The altar will stand inside the gazebo.
A white carpet will run between the chairs to the altar. Sprays of white flowers with
blue ribbons will adorn the aisle chairs, as well as the gazebo columns. I’ll have
the buffet and dining tables set up by the dining hall.”

“Perfect,” Meredith said.

“We’ll have a tent ready, if necessary,” Tyanne went on, “although the weather forecast
is sunny, sunny, sunny. A
young man in a white suit will stand beside the birdcage, which will be filled with
Indigo Buntings. They’re blue birds, to match your color theme, and they sing in pairs.
Their warble is incredible. I thought they would be a good metaphor for your love.”

“Spare us,” Sylvie said.

Tyanne moved to the side of the gazebo. “Meredith wanted a string quartet to play
Beatles’ music. I love that idea. We’ll station them here.”

“‘Love, love me do,’” Matthew sang as he slung his arm around Meredith’s waist and
squeezed. She giggled her delight.

Sylvie coughed into her hand. I shot her a stern look and jabbed an index finger to
hush. Like a disgruntled teenager, she hiked a single shoulder.

“At the end of the ceremony, on my cue, the bird master will release the Buntings,”
Tyanne said. “They’re indigenous, so no harm will come to them. And Iris has suggestions
for the most marvelous table flower arrangements, as you already know.”

Iris flourished the blue album that I had previewed last night at the diner.

Tyanne folded her hands in front of her. “What do y’all think?”

Meredith said, “I love everything. Don’t you, Matthew?” If she had clouds for feet,
she couldn’t float any higher off the ground.

Matthew said, “I do.”

Meredith tapped his lips. “Remember those words, mister.”

“Oh, please, kill me now,” Sylvie muttered.

I flicked her hip with my fingertips. “If you don’t like it, leave.”

“And miss the fun?” She smirked. “Never.”

Amy raced through the dining hall door. “Look at us!” she cried.

Clair burst through after her and skipped toward us. Their midi-length bridesmaids’
dresses flounced around their calves. “How do we look?

“Tell them,” I ordered Sylvie.

She cocked a defiant hip. “Tell them what, love?”

“How beautiful they are.”

“I did at Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe.”

“Do it again. Now,” I hissed under my breath. “If you don’t, I’ll tell them that little
tidbit about you at eighteen that you shared with me after a few too many martinis.
It involved a missing brassiere, if I recall.”

“Oh, my darling girlie-girls,” Sylvie gushed as she ran toward them, arms outstretched.
“Princess Kate has nothing on you two.”

“Really, Mum?” the girls said in unison.

“Absolutely.”

Problem solved, for the moment. I clapped my hands. “Everyone, inside for the tasting.”

In addition to hearing Tyanne’s summation of the wedding plans, one of the other reasons
I had come to Harvest Moon Ranch was so I could explore the kitchen layout. Before
today, I had never been inside the main building. Although Tyanne had hired a caterer
to do the actual cooking and serving of the wedding appetizers and meal, I had wanted
a look-see at the kitchen so I could be mentally prepared for snags. Guests shouldn’t
go hungry; glasses shouldn’t go empty. I had arrived earlier than the others and set
out cheese platters. To my delight, the kitchen faced the backyard. Transportation
of food to the buffet tables would be a breeze. From inside, big plate-glass windows
provided a perfect view of the wedding site, and from outside, I could peer into the
kitchen all the way to the walk-in refrigerator. Nothing would go amiss.

In keeping with the red ranch theme, the Harvest Moon Ranch kitchen was set in a horseshoe
shape and was decorated with red-flecked Amazon Star granite and white cabinetry.
Platters of cheeses with dipping sauces and crackers on trays sat on the island. Bejeweled
spreaders rested beside the sauces. White porcelain labels jutted from each of the
cheeses to help identify them. Cocktail napkins stood in a stack at the center of
the island.

“This way, y’all.” Tyanne herded everyone into the kitchen. The crowd circled the
island as if it were a dining table without chairs.

I pulled a packet of comment cards and pencils from my purse and started handing them
out. When I reached Sylvie, I said, “Oh, my, I must have run out. But then I wasn’t
expecting you, was I?”

She growled at me.

I snickered. “My cat Rags can be scarier than that, love.” Discreetly, I brandished
a cat claw, then addressed the
group. “Try to taste everything. Write me a note about what works and what doesn’t.
Matthew brought some bottles of a sauvignon blanc from the Bozzuto Winery. It has
a luscious floral aroma and flavors of white peach and cloves. Girls, I made homemade
apple juice for you.” Ohio apples in October tasted like nectar of the gods.

“Charlotte.” Tyanne held up a snack made of cheese, cracker, and topping. “The spicy
lemon curd is delicious with this Dorset Drum cheese. Mm-mm good.”

“I’ll second that,” Iris said. “I’ve never liked lemon anything, but this is divine,
and I adore the presentation.”

The Dorset Drum English Farmhouse Cheddar was hand-dipped in black wax and as small
as a child’s tom-tom. Pépère had introduced me to its sweet, tangy goodness.

Matthew and Meredith sidled to me. “What is Sylvie doing here?” Meredith asked.

“Long story,” I said. “Smile and don’t let her get to you.”

“Not an easy task.” Meredith slathered apple butter on a cracker, added a slice of
the Bellwether Farms San Andreas cheese, which was a sheep’s cheese as smooth and
creamy as an Italian Pecorino—
pecora
meant female sheep in Italian. She downed it in one bite and sighed with delight.
“Oh, yum. Now, tell me, how difficult was it for you the other day at the fitting?”

“What do you mean?”

“With Edy Delaney telling you what looked good on you.” She elbowed me. “C’mon, admit
it. That had to gall you. I’ll never forget how Mr. Burger ordered the two of you
to the front of the tenth-grade science class and failed both of you on that test.
Like you would ever cheat.”

“I heard that story,” Matthew said. “Edy was mean-spirited.”

I waved a hand. “It’s water under the bridge.” But thinking about Edy made me reconsider
the scenario that had come in a flash to me the other day. Had Edy contacted Giacomo
Capriotti and told him where to find Jacky? Had she
asked him to pay her for the information? She said she wasn’t hurting financially,
but she was a liar and a cheat. I felt I should press Urso to dig a little deeper,
but how could I do so without sounding petty? And what if it wasn’t Edy who had called
Giacomo? Who else might gain from luring him to Providence? Jacky, his heir, would,
but I couldn’t believe she had called him. She had a career, a life, and anonymity.
She didn’t need his money and the heartache that would go with his reappearance. I
wiped the theory from my mind.

“Charlotte.” Iris joined us.

“Congratulations on getting the gig,” I said, drawn back to the moment at hand.

“Thank you. I’m thrilled, if you couldn’t tell.” The smile still hadn’t left her face.
“I was walking by All Booked Up yesterday. I know it’s not open yet, but Octavia let
me in. She has done a great job reinventing the place, hasn’t she? I knew right where
to go to find a historical romance. Have you visited?”

“I helped her unpack boxes.”

“Anabelle looks a little forlorn about the whole move, poor thing.”

“That’s because she doesn’t want to leave town.”

Iris downed a morsel of cheese then licked her fingertips and wiped them on a cocktail
napkin. “Isn’t she the one who saw someone running from the scene of the murder?”

“So she says.”

“She claimed the person was tall.”

“Which isn’t saying much.” Again I wondered about Anabelle’s account. She was inches
shorter than I was, and she was a head shorter than Iris and Edy and just about everyone
else standing at the counter, other than my grandmother and the twins. How tall was
tall? Vinnie tall? Hugo Hunter tall?

“
Chérie
,” Grandmère cut in. “This herb aspic is lovely with the Tomme de Bordeaux.”

“Thanks.” For the aspic, I had combined tomato juice, rosemary, and basil. It balanced
well with the juniper-encrusted cheese. “What do you think of the crackers?” I had
chosen a basic butter cracker for all. Even Clair’s gluten-free crackers were simple.
I wanted guests to be drawn to the flavors of the cheeses and accoutrements and not
the crackers.

“Perfect and understated,” my grandmother said. “By the way, you look happy and vibrant,
chérie
, which warms my heart.” She petted my face. “Now, let us get the twins involved.”

“Use the round, gluten-free crackers for Clair, Grandmère.” I pointed with my index
finger to a separate plate.

“
Oui.
Amy, Clair, come taste.” She made up a portion of cheese and aspic for each of the
girls.

The twins swooped around the island and came to a stop by Grandmère.

“Girls,” Sylvie said. “Before you eat, change out of your dresses.”

Amy and Clair glimpsed from their mother to me, their faces studies in confusion.
Normally I was the one to remind them about napkins and not spilling. Sylvie…well,
she was a little more cavalier. However, looking at the twins’ faces, I couldn’t help
remembering when I was a little girl and how I would put on my Halloween costume the
moment I purchased it and wore it day and night until Thanksgiving. I gazed at Matthew.