D is for Drunk (7 page)

“Language,” Brendan said automatically.

“You’re just jealous, Aidan,” Sofia said.

“Why would I be jealous?” Aidan scoffed.

She held up her phone so he could see the pictures again. She didn’t need to say anything else. The photos spoke for themselves.

“Handsome man,” Brendan said.

“He’s nice, too.” Sofia looked at Aidan. “And courteous.”

Taylor arrived with the check and another smile for Aidan. Sofia took a Starbucks receipt out of her purse and wrote a number on the back while Aidan was watching Taylor walk back toward the hostess desk. She was going to do a good deed.

“Excuse me,” Sofia said. “I need to powder my nose.”

“My upholstery thanks you.” Aidan tore his eyes away from Taylor long enough to glance at Sofia.

She pulled out the most insincere smile in her repertoire, walked casually back to the bathroom, then cut left toward the hostess desk where Taylor was rearranging the menus. Sofia stopped in front of her.

“Yes?” Taylor asked. “Everything OK?”

Sofia handed her the Starbucks receipt. “That’s Aidan’s number. He’s too shy to call you, so you’ll have to call him.”

Taylor dimpled and slipped the number into her front pocket. “Thank you!”

“My pleasure,” Sofia said. Aidan needed to lighten up, step away from his checklists, and date a real woman instead of an Internet one.

CHAPTER 9

S
he took the turn at top speed. In the passenger seat, Aidan made a sound that might have been a whimper.

“I should never have let you drive,” he said.

“You had to feed your Tinder addiction,” she answered. When he wasn’t whimpering, he was swiping at his phone.

She poured on speed coming out of the curve. Aidan’s Porsche handled the curves as well as her Tesla did. It felt a little heavier, but still stuck to the pavement on acceleration. The road up to the winery was fantastic—twisty, flat, and almost empty. She intended to come up here every week from now on with her car. She’d learned car racing techniques for a movie once, but she almost never got a chance to practice them.

She made it to the winery gates within twelve minutes of leaving the Marmalade Cafe. Her phone had said it would take sixteen. Probably the person who programmed it drove like Aidan.

“Do you need a booster seat?” she asked. “Or a blindfold?”

Aidan didn’t uncurl his hands from the dash or answer her.

She cut her speed to sedate, drove through the open gates, and cruised up to the Grigoryan Winery. No need to scare the clients.

Grapevines arranged in curving lines covered the sloping hill as far as she could see. The grapes were so purple they almost looked black, and the leaves shone a brilliant green. She rolled down the windows and breathed in the heady smell of ripe grapes. “Not so bad up here.”

“Watch the road,” Aidan said.

She reached the end of the drive. Someone had flattened the top of the hill to build a castle—stone walls, curved towers on every corner, and graceful arched windows looking out over the vineyard. In place of a moat a sapphire-blue infinity pool ran along the front of the castle. She wasn’t interested in the castle, but she definitely could use that pool.

Unless they were over-leveraged, the Grigoryans would definitely be able to pay the bill from Maloney Investigations. That kind of money often made enemies. Maybe someone besides the Beforts was interested in messing with them.

The Lemon Drop rolled to a stop.

“We’re here,” she said.

Aidan kissed his fingertips and touched the dash. “Thank you, Jesus, for delivering me safely.”

“You could kiss the ground if you want,” she said. “I’ve never seen a driveway so clean.”

“I have my dignity,” he said.

“Not really.” She got out of the car.

Milena Grigoryan strolled out from a front door thick enough to hold off a battering ram. She wore a flowing white dress the camouflaged her curves and a straw hat perched atop her curly hair. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Of course, Mrs. Grigoryan,” Sofia said.

“Milena, please,” she said.

She folded Sofia in a hug that lasted about two seconds too long. She smelled of vanilla. Sofia wanted to pull away, but she waited it out. Then Milena hugged Aidan. That hug lasted longer. Aidan stood as stiff as a block of wood. His eyes pleaded with Sofia to get him out of there.

She decided to rescue him. “You certainly have a lovely home, Milena!”

Milena separated from Aidan and turned to face Sofia. “It’s mostly for show, a backdrop for tastings and events. Tonight we have a wedding.”

“Then we’d better get started,” Aidan said. “We’d like to turn off your water, then see if the meter is still moving.”

“We did this already. The water company did this as well. The meter doesn’t move when the water is off everywhere. We checked in the morning, they checked in the evening,” Milena said.

That didn’t sound like there was a leak.

Sofia asked, “Maybe it’s only leaking at night? Do you water at night?”

“We water once a week, and not all of the vines need additional water. You will find no waste here. We are very careful to maximize our precious resources.”

“We’re here to check, to see how things work. As a first step.” Aidan said. “We’ll be out of your way soon.”

“Not so soon,” Milena said. “I will show you the house first, then the winery itself.”

She led them toward the house, getting a few paces ahead. Probably so Aidan would have a nice view of her nice round butt.

They followed Milena through the grand doors and into the modern castle. Sofia was used to seeing mansions. Lots of people in the business had ridiculously lavish houses, it was why she loved her tiny blue trailer so much, but this castle was opulent even by those standards—oak laid in elaborate patterns, a smattering of marble floors and marble wainscoting, gilded everything, and rich fabrics. It felt more like a museum than a house.

She had the urge to escape to a clean white room with nothing except maybe a white yoga mat. She couldn’t imagine living in this kind of a place. Each individual item was beautiful, but the overall effect was suffocating.

She marveled at the giant kitchen. Emily would have loved it—a giant stove, countertops practically big enough to pitch a tent, a refrigerator big enough to climb in, and two full-time cooks hustling around dressed all in white. And no leaky faucets.

She lost count of the numbers of bedrooms and bathrooms. Each gold-plated bathroom fixture was immaculate and well-maintained. Either one of the Grigoryan’s was a pathological neat freak, or they had meticulous staff. She doubted they would tolerate a leak for more than five seconds without ripping out the offending faucet and replacing it.

Maybe a disgruntled staff member had put the poop in the car and was siphoning off the water. “Do you have many staff here at the vineyards?”

“Staffs?” Milena twisted the giant diamond ring on her finger.

“People who work for you. Employees.”

“A few. We have a housekeeper, two day maids, and a cook for the house, plus extras for events. A woman in the tasting room. Two who work full-time in the vineyard, plus many who come and go for harvest and planting.”

That was a few?

“Have you had any problems with any of them?” Aidan asked.

“I see what you think, but no. We have had the same employees for years, and nothing had changed in the last few months.” Milena shook her head decisively and her curls bounced. “Shall we go out to the vineyard, Aidan?”

Sofia didn’t expect to be asked. Milena had acted as if she wasn’t there the entire time.

“Sofia and I would like that,” Aidan said. “Both of us.”

CHAPTER 10

M 
ilena led the way down the marble staircase, under a crystal chandelier sparkling as if it had been washed five minutes before, through the giant doors, and out onto the driveway. There was no lawn to speak of. The entire top of the mountain had been covered with the building, the pool, and paving stones. The pavers gleamed in the sun as if they, too, had been freshly washed. Maybe that’s what was using up all their water—cleaning.

“There are the vines. We have two lots, twenty acres, and we have planted about ten acres. The rest is for the house, the buildings, and resting soil.” Milena adjusted her hat to shade her freckled face. “Armenians are the oldest winemakers in the world. Our Armenian grapes come from an ungrafted Armenian variety,
Areni Noir
, that has been in our land for more than six thousand years.”

“Wow,” Sofia said.

“When you drink our wines, you are drinking history,” Milena said. “Something old and rare. Herodotus and Strabo praised our wines long before the birth of Christ.”

She wondered if they’d actually get to taste any. They’d been on a water tour, which was a lot less interesting than a wine tour. Toilets and faucets didn’t have the appeal of reds and whites.

“We have only a hundred
Areni Noir
vines, but we are expanding. We also grow other more common grapes with six hundred vines of
Pinot Noir
; three thousand of
Cabernet
; two thousand
Syrah
; two thousand
Merlot
; and a few other varietals in smaller sections.”

“All reds?” Sofia asked.

Milena nodded once. “Shall we go, Aidan?”

Aidan shot Sofia an apologetic glance. Milena’s snubbing must be obvious for him to have noticed it.

Milena took them on a quick tour of the nearest vines, the area where the wine was made, and into the wine cellar. The underground vault smelled of vanilla and oak, and Sofia drew in a deep breath. It felt nice and cool in here after the sun outside.

“We use only Armenian oak barrels,” Milena pointed to rows of barrels. “They are denser than French oak, and they give our wine a silky feel and a spicy taste. It’s the subtlety of ancient traditions we’re calling out from the grapes.”

The room didn’t have any water flowing to it, so there was no reason to have come here, but Sofia didn’t say anything. She was tired of looking at toilets.

“I have one more thing to show you.” Milena took them to the back of the cellar. “Do you see those?”

Sofia followed her pointing finger. At the back of the cellar large clay jars were half buried.

“They are
karas
, what you call amphorae,” Milena said. “We are using them to age the
Areni Noir
the traditional way, to see if Americans can appreciate something so antique and precious.”

Sofia wandered over to look at the tall clay jars. They looked like they belonged in a museum, too. Some of the tops had been sealed with what appeared to be wax and buried in the dirt floor of the cellar. It was pretty cool to think the Grigoryans were aging wine the same way mankind had six thousand years ago. She touched the top of a
karas
. It felt cool and rough under her fingers. Would it be a conflict of interest if she bought some of this wine for her mother? Janet and Tim, Sofia’s step-dad, loved wine.

A shadow flicked on the wall ahead of her, and she turned around to see what was going on. A lot. Milena pressed against Aidan. He was backing up, but he didn’t have a lot of space left before he’d be up against the stone wall. Even in the dim light, she could see he wasn’t happy about it. Milena advanced another step, and he retreated.

“Aidan,” Sofia called. “Come take a look at this!”

“You bet.” He detached himself from Milena and practically sprinted over.

Milena flashed Sofia a wicked smile, then went back to watching Aidan’s butt as he walked away. Sofia stifled a giggle. Aidan rarely bailed her out when she was getting unwanted male attention, but she was going to be the bigger person.

“Imagine,” Sofia said. “Winemakers with cellars like this thousands of years ago.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Aidan tilted his head toward the door. “But we need to go back to the office. We have to pick something up.”

“Do we?” she asked.

“We do. We very much do.”

CHAPTER 11

A 
idan’s car was parked in. The lot had been empty when she arrived, but now it was full—two catering trucks, a limousine, a selection of SUVs, and one lonely green Prius. The driveway reminded her of a film shoot.

“It’s the wedding!” Milena said. “Come! There will be dancing.”

“I’ve a couple of hours before I have to be in Burbank,” Sofia said.

“What’s in Burbank?” Aidan asked.

“The Riders of Randorin.”

“That is an outstanding show,” Milena said. “I saw it with Annabelle. She loves horses. I’m not such a horse lover, but the show is still wonderful. The men are so sexy!”

“What’s so sexy about a guy who smells like a horse?” Aidan asked.

“Muscles and grace. And the control of such a huge animal,” Milena answered. “Sexy.”

Sofia laughed. “Sexy.”

“I’ll get the catering van moved,” Aidan said. “And we can go.”

But no, the head of catering had the only van keys, and she had left to fetch cheese plates.

Sofia sipped a glass of the
Areni Noir
. She’d already bought a bottle for Janet and Tim. The wine tasted different from any she’d had before. It had a berry taste underlain by an almost earthy flavor. That must come from the clay amphora. It was fantastic, and she thought about buying another bottle for herself.

“Go ahead, I’m driving,” Aidan said.

“It’s just a glass of wine,” she said. “Actually, it’s just a half a glass.”

He took a sip of sparkling mineral water and looked across the giant ballroom at the bride and groom. The bride was tall, African-American, and gorgeous. She wore a one-shouldered mermaid gown with delicate lace accents that shone against her dark skin. The groom was Asian and about her height. He wore a designer tuxedo and a stunned and joyous expression.