Deadly Offer (6 page)

Toby looked around for Cecilia, who was turning out to be one of the worst waitresses on the planet. Figuring she was out back smoking a cigarette, he grabbed a few menus and a pad of paper and headed for the new arrivals, giving the man at the bar a wide berth.
The best course of action is to leave the big guy alone. Hopefully his wife—if he’s got one—will realize he’s missing and fetch him before too long.

Toby approached the boisterous table and put on a big smile. “Hey folks,” he said in what he thought was a Western twang. “Get you all something?”

———

Darby carried a platter of sliced turkey, ham, and cheese into the kitchen and placed them on the counter. ET was behind her, a basket of finger rolls in hand. She turned to him. With concern in her voice, she asked, “How are you holding up?”

He shook his head. “Not very well, I’m afraid. I feel like I will collapse any moment.”

She nodded. The gathering had gone on much longer than she’d expected, with all kinds of people coming from neighboring towns to drop off food and pay their respects. They were beginning to leave, trickling out in small groups, and now only a few stragglers remained behind to help clean up. “Selena was certainly well loved,” she said quietly.

“Yes.” He looked around the kitchen. “Did I tell you about the holidays we spent here? When my mother was still alive, Carlos and I brought her for Christmas, and then another year for Easter. We had a wonderful time. Selena was a fabulous hostess, so happy to show off her winery and so proud of all she’d accomplished.” He paused. “I am glad my mother got to see her like that.”

Darby wondered why the family gatherings at Carson Creek had not continued, but she said nothing to her stricken friend. Instead she reached out and placed her hand on his. He gave a small, sad smile and walked heavily out of the kitchen.

Darby sighed. Would this have been any easier had Selena’s brothers known she was sick? Why hadn’t she confided in anyone from her family?
She wanted to keep her independence,
Darby thought.
I was the same way.

She flashed back to Hurricane Harbor, Maine, the craggy island on which she’d been raised, and her decision as a teen to flee her hometown for California. It was not unlike what Selena Thompson had done, leaving her family to settle in a ramshackle Victorian in San Francisco.
Except Selena’s family had been close-knit, and loving, and mine vanished in an afternoon, leaving me alone
. Perhaps Selena’s ties, as well-meaning as they were, had been even harder to sever.

She looked up as Michael Contento entered the kitchen, a distinguished looking man by his side.

“Darby, this is Edward Martin, Selena’s attorney.” She looked up into the dark eyes of a handsome African American man wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a suit that showed off his athletic physique.

“I came as soon as I could,” he said in a sonorous voice. “I’m absolutely shocked. Saddened, too. I really liked Selena.”

“It’s been a rough day for her brothers, but I know they’ll want to meet you.” She motioned for him to follow and threaded her way through the dining room and into the farmhouse’s living room. ET was seated on an armchair, his brother beside him talking quietly to a neighbor.

She introduced the brothers to Attorney Edward Martin.

“I’m sorry to come so late,” he said, “but I did bring a copy of your sister’s will. Would you like to know the details now, or should we talk at some point over the weekend?”

Carlos leaned forward. “I’d like to hear it now.”

ET shrugged, his face impassive.

Edward Martin opened a black binder. “It’s very straightforward. She left everything to the two of you.”

Carlos hung his head, muttering something softly under his breath.

“Enrique, your sister requested that you, as the eldest, serve as her Executor. In other words, you are legally empowered to make decisions concerning the disposal of her property. In terms of the vineyard, Selena met with me two months ago and we created a trust in which to hold the property. This means things can move along rather quickly, if that’s what you both decide. Enrique, you were also named as the Successor Trustee. That title indicates that you are the point person for the trust.” He paused. “I’ll need to file some paperwork on Monday to make this appointment final, but that shouldn’t be any problem.” He looked from ET to Carlos, a kind look on his face. “You can call me anytime with questions. I just wanted to stop by and tell you how sorry I am.”

The brothers nodded and Edward Martin handed ET the binder. “I’ll see you both at the funeral. Again, my condolences.”

Darby saw him to the door and nodded a goodbye. Back in the kitchen, she opened a drawer, found the plastic wrap, and stretched it over the deli meats, thinking about the attorney’s words. Selena Thompson had lived life on her own terms, even as an ailing woman. Thank goodness she had possessed the foresight to draw up not only a will, but a trust. Darby knew from her experience that with a trust in place, ET and Carlos could conduct the sale of Carson Creek in a matter of weeks, if that was what they wanted.

A slight man with a smooth, shaved head and Michael Contento’s handsome features entered the kitchen carrying a large tray of pesto-coated penne pasta. “May I?” He pointed at the plastic wrap and Darby tore off a generous sheet. Together they covered the platter and placed it in the refrigerator.

“Tim Contento,” he said, pausing to lick pesto off his fingers before shaking her hand. His brown eyes were framed by thick brown lashes. “You came with Selena’s brothers, right?”

“I’m Enrique’s friend, Darby Farr. I think I met your mother and father earlier.”

“Stepmother. Don’t worry. You’re not the only one who’s made that mistake. Even though there are ten years between us, she looks incredibly youthful while I’m getting positively ancient.” He grinned and his tanned face crinkled pleasantly. Just as quickly it clouded over in a frown. “Hey, I’m so sorry about Selena. She was a really great lady.”

“So I understand. I didn’t get the chance to meet her, but I know her brothers are devastated.”

“As they should be. Such a sudden thing.” He lowered his voice. “Carlos told me she hadn’t been feeling well.”

“Did she appear healthy to you?”

He frowned again and shook his head. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t seen her around in awhile, and when I did she was moving slowly. But certainly none of us knew she was truly ill.” He wiped his hands on a checkered towel and glanced at his watch. “Guess my sister isn’t going to make it tonight. Why don’t I get everyone else out of here so that people can get some sleep?”

Darby nodded. She felt weary, and could only imagine how Carlos and ET must feel. Not to mention Dan and his daughter, Sophie. “I think that’s a good plan. Thanks for your help.”

“That’s what we do here in the valley,” Tim said. “We help each other out.” Moments later she heard him telling the remaining visitors that it was time to “let these folks get some rest.”

When Darby reentered the living room, Carlos and ET had retreated upstairs. Only Dan Stewart remained in the room, standing and looking out a window into the darkness, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Darby gave a quick glance around the room for stray dishes or wine glasses, and spotted the slender figure of Sophie Stewart. She was in the adjoining dining room, leaning against the door frame, and watching her father intently. On her face Darby could see a mixture of tenderness and love. Without warning, Darby’s eyes filled with tears and she backed slowly out of the room.

———

The farmhouse was still and silent under the dark California sky, the temperature lower now than it had been since the spring. Vivian Allen shivered in her thin denim jacket. She had walked a quarter mile in her strappy sandals up the hill to the estate, hoping to speak with Carlos Gomez, but now it looked as though that plan was on hold. She hugged her arms to her chest and swore softly.
I should have gone in earlier. But everyone stayed so long, and I didn’t want to see that creep Wainfield
…

She made an exasperated sound and turned to walk back down the hill to her car. Just then a swipe of fur against her ankle made her scream and stumble.

“What the …” Vivian looked into the amber eyes of a cat as he turned his black and white body to rub once more against her calves. “Damn pest!” She wobbled on her sandals, making sweeping motions with her hands. “Shoo! Shoo! Go home!”

Jasper glared at her, narrowed his eyes, and leapt silently into the brush.

———

Back at the farmhouse, Darby Farr peered into the inky night. A cry had startled her and she’d gone to the closest window. Was it the shriek of a jay? Or something else? She shook off the unsettled feeling and reached for her smart phone. Time to respond to the list of e-mails she’d ignored all day long.

She responded to Helen Near’s chatty message and Tina’s engage
ment news as best she could, although she felt the need to tell them
both about Selena’s untimely death. Replying to the mysterious Kenji Miyazaki was far easier. She simply told the businessman from Genkei Pharmaceuticals that she had no wish to meet with him.

Several e-mails could be handled by Claudia Jones, and Darby forwarded them with a brief message explaining that she planned to drive home the following day.

ET and Carlos weren’t the most communicative of siblings, but they’d need to overcome their different styles and manage their sister’s affairs.
They’ll have to figure it out
, Darby thought.

Feeling a vague sense of uneasiness, she climbed into the guest room’s double bed. Hours later she fell into a troubled sleep.

———

“Closing time,” announced Toby Bliss, prodding the still slumped figure at the bar. Once again he jabbed a finger into the guy’s shoulder, noting how the white fabric of his tee shirt puckered and then released. “Come on, I’ll get you a cab.”

Slowly the man, whom Toby had started to think of as “The Incredible Hulk,” raised a shaggy head. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing drool across his cheek. “What’s going on?”

“You’re in a bar and you had a little too much to drink,” Toby said, thinking this was surely the understatement of the year. “Time to go home.”

The man turned his head slowly from side to side and tried to swallow. His eyes were dark and unfocused. Toby shoved a cup of black coffee in front of him. “Drink up,” he said.

Obediently he took the cup and drained it in one gulp, again wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve got a car out back.”

“That may be true, but you’re in no shape to drive.” Toby picked
up the phone. “Where you staying?”

“St. Adina. Little motel.”

Toby thought a long moment. His girlfriend would kill him, but maybe she didn’t need to know every single thing he did. “I’m going that way,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride, just as long as you don’t get sick in my car.”

The corners of The Incredible Hulk’s mouth lifted in what was nearly a smile. “No worries.” He reached behind him and Toby saw the circular tattoo—some sort of spoked wheel—on his bicep. The man plunked down a wallet thick with bills. “I owe you for those shots.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” He collected the money and
breathed
a silent sigh of relief.
The guy can’t be an ax murderer
,
he reasoned.
There’s no way he’d be paying off his bar tab.
He put the cash in the register and yelled to Cecilia to lock up. Turning to the Hulk he said simply, “Time to get out of here.”

Five

Dan Stewart switched off
a small television set positioned on the butcher-block counter in Selena’s kitchen and pointed at the coffee pot. His red-rimmed eyes were already tired. “Good morning, Darby. Can I get you a cup?”

She nodded and took a seat at the kitchen table. “Thanks. It’s Saturday, right? What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d better come in and keep an eye on things.” His voice caught.

“Where’s Sophie?”

“I dropped her at a friend’s house last night. She’ll call when I need to pick her up.”

“Have you seen ET or Carlos?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure they are exhausted. What about you? How did you sleep?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid. The room is very comfortable but …”

“This kind of thing isn’t conducive to resting, I know.” He took a seat at the table and rubbed his eyes. He wore a plaid cotton shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and jeans. “I figure work is the best thing I can do right now. It’s how I can help Selena the most, too.” He looked down at his hands, struggling to compose his thoughts. After a minute he spoke again. “According to the report I just heard on television, we’re in for some crazy weather. This cold front’s gonna give way to a heat spike, believe it or not. That means we’ll probably have to push up the harvest.”

“The grapes?”

“That’s right. I was planning on late next week at the earliest, but if the temperatures climb like they’re predicting, it could be much sooner.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh, an incredibly scientific test—I’m not sure you’d understand.” He saw her look of surprise and grinned. “I taste them. Fortunately for me, grapes are my favorite fruit.” The shuffle of feet made them both look up simultaneously. A rumpled Carlos Gomez pointed at the coffee pot and groaned.

“I think I drank too much of my sister’s wine last night,” he moaned. “The red stuff and I just don’t agree. I’m more of a gin man, myself.”

Dan handed him a cup of coffee. “Which did you drink? The Pinot?”

Carlos shrugged. “Maybe it’s not the kind that mattered, but the amount.” Lifting the coffee cup to his lips and taking a sip, he sighed. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Speaking of doctors,” began ET, declining coffee and pouring himself a glass of water, “Who was my sister’s physician?” He was impeccably dressed, as usual, in pressed tan pants and a striped Oxford shirt. “I’d like to find out just how sick she was.”

Dan nodded. “She saw Jenna Yang, a local internist with a very good reputation.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a flowered appointment book. “I’m sure Selena would have her number in here.” He flipped through a few pages and handed it to ET. “Top of the page.”

ET studied the book. “She was supposed to see Dr. Yang on Monday,” he muttered. He shook his head and looked at his brother. “Why didn’t she tell us about her illness? I don’t understand.”

Carlos spread out his hands in a gesture of incomprehension. “Who knows? She was stubborn, that little sister of ours, and she didn’t like us interfering.”

“I’m not sure she told anyone.” Dan Stewart poured more coffee into Darby’s and Carlos’ cups. “I could tell when Selena was in pain, because we worked together so closely, but she never wanted to talk about it. I think she did her best to hide her illness. Maybe she was afraid people would treat her differently. Even me.”

Darby thought a moment. “I think she was right about that. I’ve spoken to women with chronic illness who have to keep their conditions a secret from their employers and clients. Theoretically discrimination is illegal, but we all know that kind of thing happens.” She took a sip of coffee. “And think about the sale of the vineyard. As far as that’s concerned, keeping quiet was also smart. Why give a buyer a negotiating advantage?”

“What do you mean?” Carlos asked, running a hand through his bushy hair. “Remember, my brain is fuzzy this morning.”

“Darby means that if a buyer knew you were sick, they would use that as leverage against you and not offer as much for a property,” said ET. He rinsed his glass and put it on a drying board. “I am going to speak with the priest later this morning and discuss Selena’s mass. I guess we need to take a look at those three offers as well.” His eyes sought Darby’s. “I hate to ask for more assistance from you, Darby, but will you look at those with us?”

“Of course.” She glanced at Carlos. “I know that Harrison Wainfield spoke to you as well, Carlos.”

“Yeah. Seems like a nice enough guy. Said he’d be happy to list the vineyard for us if we wanted a fresh start.”

The coffee pot slammed on the counter with such force that it rattled the glasses in the cabinet. “Sorry,” Dan Stewart muttered. Darby watched as he struggled to get his emotions in check. “Here’s the deal: Harrison Wainfield works for the Contentos. All he cares about is helping them acquire Carson Creek so he can collect a nice fat check.”

Carlos raised his bushy eyebrows. “Oh.” He glanced at Darby and ET. “And what’s so bad about the Contentos getting the property? God knows they can pay for it, and they seem like decent people. Look at the way they came over with all that food.”

“And they have offered their private chapel for Selena’s funeral,” ET murmured.

Dan licked his lips, considering his words. “Michael Contento is a very decent man. A good man.” He paused. “I don’t know if I can explain it. On the one hand, they’ll take Carson Creek and make the wines famous, I know that. We’re producing a damn good product here and with their marketing muscle, it could be on everyone’s list of favorites in a few years.” He sighed and shook his head. “Contento Family Vineyards is a corporate winery. I don’t believe Selena would have wanted to see Carson Creek become just another of their labels.”

He looked at the brothers with an earnest expression. “I’m not sure if you know how we worked here, how special this place is.” He sighed. “In the vineyard, we have our own small crew and do all of our own tractor work and hand labor. Most vineyards—like Contento—have farm teams of a hundred people to do one operation, like leaf-pulling, and then do another operation with a whole different set of workers.” His face was growing more animated. “But you don’t build a vine-by-vine relationship like that, and that’s what mattered to Selena. We walk the same rows every day, and we treat each vine individually.” He looked down at his hands. “That’s what makes Carson Creek different.”

Darby regarded him quietly. “Dan, did you ever let Selena know that you wanted the property?”

He whipped his head around, clearly surprised. “That was out of the question. Whatever Selena was asking for Carson Creek, it’s more than I’ve got saved.”

“Did Selena know of your interest?”

He gave a harsh chuckle. “Did Selena know how I felt about this place? Is that what you’re asking?” He sucked in a breath and then with great effort whispered, “Yeah, she knew.”

The other three watched as he walked out of the room.

“Well, that explains a lot,” said Carlos, hefting his body off the chair and heading toward the coffee machine. He poured the steaming beverage into his mug.

ET raised his eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Obviously he’s angry that Selena wasn’t going to hand over her property. He admits he couldn’t afford it, but he thinks she should have just given it to him.” He ran a hand through his unruly curls. “I’m not sure if he should continue working here.”

ET shook his head. “Carlos, I disagree. It’s evident that Dan loves
this place. It’s that love for the property that is speaking. I think we need to listen to what he says.”

Carlos frowned and looked at Darby. “I know that my brother trusts your judgment. And after all, he is the executor of the will.” She heard the sarcasm in his voice. “What do you think?”

Darby turned her almond eyes toward the younger Gomez brother. “I can see where you’d be concerned, Carlos, but it seems to me that Dan Stewart is totally committed to the vineyard and knows the operation here inside and out.” She looked through the window, watching as Dan headed out to the fields, undoubtedly to test the ripeness of the grapes. “If you want to sell Carson Creek, the last thing you want to do is jeopardize the harvest, or lose Dan’s expertise and passion. He’s recognized as one of the top winemakers in the valley. Anyone purchasing this property would be lucky to have him.”

“Okay, okay.” Carlos rose from his chair. “I don’t trust the guy, but I’ll listen to you. Tell me, Rico, what do we do now?”

ET pointed at his sister’s appointment book and Darby saw pain etched across his handsome face. “There is a private number listed for Dr. Yang. I’m going to call her.”

“To find out exactly what Selena died from?” Carlos looked perplexed.

“Yes. Perhaps she also knows Selena’s wishes.” He looked at his brother. “We need to decide what happens to her body.”

Carlos put his head in his hands. “
Dio
,” he murmured, in a plaintive cry for help.

———

Dr. Jenna Yang’s voice was crisp and clear. “Normally I won’t discuss a patient’s illness without their consent, but I do make exceptions. In this case I feel that you, as Selena’s closest family members, are entitled to know about her condition.” She paused and Darby waited, listening over the speakerphone with Carlos and ET. “Your sister was suffering from a slow paralysis brought on by Guillain-Barré syndrome, a condition in which the insulators around the body’s nerves, the myelin sheaths, are destroyed by the immune system.”

“Paralysis?” Carlos ran a hand through his hair. “But no one here even knew.”

“She was determined to disguise her symptoms; nonetheless, it was becoming impossible for her to walk without pain. I suggested to her at our last visit that it was time she get a cane. I suspect that a wheelchair would not have been far behind.”

“Would this disease have gone away? Would she have been able to walk again?” ET’s normally resonant voice was shaky.

“It’s difficult to say. Selena was such a fighter that I think she would have worked very hard to regain her mobility, although she probably would never have been pain-free.”

ET gripped the table. “Is it common for patients with this syndrome to have heart attacks?”

Jenna Yang paused. They heard the sound of rustling paper. “I think we should speak in person. Could you come into my office in downtown St. Adina? I’m heading there in forty minutes to do some paperwork.”

ET looked at his brother and then at Darby. “We’ll be there,” he said.

———

The winemaker was in the middle of one of the fields, row upon row of trellised vines flanking him. He looked up as Darby approached.

“Hey.” Dan Stewart’s sandy brown hair was disheveled and he had a sheepish look on his face. He shielded his eyes from the sun. “Sorry if I was a little abrupt back there.”

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” Darby said. “You and Selena worked very closely for several years.”

“Five years. She was like a sister to me.” He raised his face to the sun. “This was the kind of day she loved.”

Darby fingered a cluster of grapes. They were glossy purple, and firm to the touch. “Have you always been in wine production?”

He nodded. “Growing up here, It was a natural choice. Before I worked for Selena, I was at Contento Family Vineyards.”

“In the same capacity? As their winemaker?”

“Pretty much. Contento is a bigger operation, so there are many more fingers in the pie, so to speak. That’s what attracted me to Carson Creek. Selena was passionate about doing a small-scale but excellent product, right from the beginning. She was uncompromising in how the grapes were raised and how the wine was made.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she took the whole organic thing seriously. For her, it wasn’t just a marketing term, it was a philosophy. Here at Carson Creek, we pay attention to soil depletion and erosion, water pollution, resistance to pests, and chemical dependence—things like that.” He snapped off a cluster of deep purple grapes and handed them to Darby. “Go ahead, give them a taste.”

She pulled off a grape and popped it in her mouth while Dan Stewart chuckled.

“That’s how you taste grapes? Come on, I thought you were a Californian.” He grabbed another bunch and held it before her. “This is how you taste them. Put a bunch in your mouth and then pull the stem.” He demonstrated as purple juice dribbled onto his shirt. “See?”

Darby opened wide and put about half of the cluster in her mouth. She pulled the stem and bit down, while the wonderful sensation of crushed grapes filled her senses. She tasted juice, skins, and a rich velvety flavor that hinted of blackberries, cherries, and the rich California earth.

“Ummm …” She wiped her mouth with her hand and Dan laughed.

“Now you’re talking. So what do you think? Are they ready to pick?”

“I don’t have a clue, but I can tell you this: they are delicious. Pinot?”

“Correct. Pinot Noir grapes, the hardest to grow, but also, in my humble opinion, the best.” Suddenly his mood grew somber and he swore softly under his breath. “It just keeps coming back to me—she’s gone. Selena is gone. I can’t believe she isn’t going to celebrate this harvest after all she’s been through.”

Darby looked into his tanned face, saw the circles under his blue eyes.

“What do you mean? Her illness?”

Dan shook his head. “Maybe I was obtuse, but I didn’t register that there was an illness—not a serious one, anyway. I can think back to times when she seemed wiped out, but I had no idea there was something so wrong.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He looked confused.

“You said ‘after all she’s been through’—what did you mean by that?”

Dan tossed the grape stem into the field. “Strange things happened over the past few months. A string of bad coincidences—or, at least that’s what we tried to tell ourselves.”

“What kinds of coincidences, Dan?”

“I guess the first thing was a fungus in the barrels, which fortunately we caught before it ruined too much of the wine. Then, one of our batches of yeast was so bad it would have spoiled production. Thank God we managed to find out before we’d added it to the juice.” He exhaled. “Was all this nasty luck? Maybe. But Selena wasn’t so sure.”