3 Savor Read online

  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.”

  “Hey!” Margaret said, “That’s my man you’re talking about. Don’t get any ideas.”

  “That’s my brother you’re both drooling over and it’s making me a little nauseous,” Billie said, but she couldn’t hide how proud she was. Too bad Sabrina couldn’t have been here to see him perform. She would have loved it.

  “I better get in there and make sure the boys are keeping up with the customers,” Sally said. “This is a great crowd for a Saturday.”

  Billie waited until she was gone before confronting Margaret with her suspicions. “So which one of you canceled Jimmy’s Jazz Crew? You, Adam, or Sally? And how did you manage to get all these people here,” she asked, waving a hand to encompass the grounds.

  Margaret pulled out her cell phone. “Adam and I sent out an invitation. He’s been amassing a lot of local followers on his Facebook and Twitter pages,” she said, and laughed. “I can’t believe it worked! Look at all these people!” She grabbed Billie’s arms and pulled her into a hug.

  “Thank you,” Billie said in her ear. “I owe you both.”

  Margaret pulled back with a smile. “You don’t owe us anything, Billie. That’s the beauty of family.”

  Adam finally managed to break away from his fans and join them. He threw his arms around them both and squeezed. “Group hug!”

  “Hey lady!”

  Billie turned around at the loud voice behind them. A young Hispanic man stood a few yards away, arms crossed, regarding them coolly from behind red shades. His sleeveless shirt revealed arms heavy in ink and muscle.

  “Are you talking to me?” she asked, raising her brows.

  “You the wine chick?”

  Adam stepped forward. “Can we help you?” he asked, protectively putting his six-foot-two frame between her and the stranger.

  The man smirked and shook his head. “Naw. I don’t need no help. I come to give help. Maybe you need a strong Mexican worker to replant those smashed flowerbeds for you,” he offered. His grin revealed a diamond inset in his front tooth. It caught the light and sparkled in odd contrast to the skull and crossbones tattoo on his neck.

  Adam glanced back at Billie. “Something going on here I should know about?”

  “We had vandals last night,” she said, moving around Adam and confronting the young man face to face, despite the creeping fear that inched up her spine. “What do you know about that?” she asked him.

  He gave a slight shrug and pushed his shades up on the top of his head. His dark gaze swept boldly over her body before finally meeting her eyes. “Somebody must not like you very much, chica. Why else would they run over your pretty flowers?”

  “I’d like to know the answer to that myself,” she said. “Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

  He laughed. “No. I don’t know nothin’.” He turned as if to leave and then looked back. “But if I were you, I would stay indoors where it’s safe. Can’t be too careful these days.”

  “Hey!” Adam called after him. “Was that a threat?” He started to follow, but Billie grasped his arm and stopped him.

  “Let him go,” she said.

  They watched the man move through the parked cars until he opened the door of a black SUV and climbed in on the passenger side. The truck backed out and drove away, tinted windows reflecting the winery back at them.

  “What kind of truck is that?” she asked, squinting.

  “I think it’s a Lexus. Why?”

  “Because someone in a black SUV drove in here Monday night, tore up my flowerbeds and shot at me throu
gh our front window.”

  “What?” Adam grabbed her by the shoulders. “Why am I just hearing about this now?” he asked, practically shaking her.

  She pulled away. “We called the police. What exactly do you think you could have done that they didn’t?”

  “They shot at you?” he said again, unable to fathom the idea. “Why would anyone…? Do you even know that dude?”

  Billie shook her head. “It’s a mystery to me.” She smiled reassuringly and changed the subject. “Thanks for doing all this, guys,” she said, waving a hand toward the crowd and the stage. “I really appreciate it. But I need to talk to Handel.”

  She started walking toward the house taking slow, easy strides in spite of her inner desire to run. She dared a glance back and saw her brother making his way up to the stage again with Margaret following close behind. With no one watching, she broke into a jog. This whole thing scared her a lot more than she wanted to admit. Why would a stranger threaten her? What did they have to gain? Was it really a result of Handel’s case or someone with a vendetta against her? It didn’t make any sense.

  Chapter Four

  Margaret curled against Adam’s chest where they sat on the couch, pretending to be interested in the movie he’d chosen for the evening. It was definitely a guy movie, with explosions, gunfire, and short, terse dialogue that peppered the action without actually having a storyline or character development. Davy sat at their feet on the floor, completely entranced. He hadn’t even asked for popcorn or a snack.

  She wanted to ask Adam what he thought about Billie’s latest troubles but it would have to wait until Davy was tucked in bed for the night. She didn’t want to frighten him after what he’d gone through a year ago. Sometimes he still had nightmares and woke up crying out. Hearing that his aunt might have a killer gunning for her would not be a good bedtime conversation.

  Rambo, the tomcat Davy had adopted from the local shelter after begging for a pet for months on end, came padding in from the kitchen where he had been eating his dinner. He licked his whiskers and leaped up to the back of the couch with hardly any effort. After walking along the entire length and back, he settled down on the far end, curled into a rumbling black and white ball of fur and closed his eyes.