Chapter 5
Nikki had to think
fast on her feet and hope the older woman bought her story. “Hi. I
was looking for my purse,” she said, knowing that Derek had offered
to take it with him as he headed out to the car.
“It wouldn’t be in
here,” Sara remarked.
“I realize that now.
An attendant took it from me for safekeeping in one of these rooms
when we first arrived for the wedding. With everything that
happened tonight, I can’t remember which room she told me it would
be in.”
“The coat room, dear.
All the coats and purses were to be put into the coat
room.”
“Of course,” Nikki
replied, laying a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I can be a bit
ditzy sometimes.”
“Oh, I doubt that,”
Sara replied. “You’re that young woman who works for Derek
Malveaux. The one who helped solve the winemaker’s murder some
months back. I recognize you from the papers. Such a brave girl you
are.”
“Not me. I didn’t
really solve anything. I really should be going. Sorry to have
gotten lost.”
“Yes, you have to be
careful around this old place. My grandfather walks these halls,
you know. I hear him at times. He was a son of a bitch, even worse
in death than life as he’s always banging around wanting to keep us
from sleep since he can’t seem to rest in peace
himself.”
Nikki was startled by
Sara’s terminology for her grandfather, albeit she couldn’t help
but be amused by it.
“I’ve even had a
shaman over here to get the old bastard to go to the Light or
somewhere but here, but no. He doesn’t have my grandmother or
mother to torment anymore; because there’s no doubt when those two
died they got on past him faster than you can say boo. No. The old fart wants to drive me crazy
because he knows I never liked him and he never liked me. Hell, no
one ever liked him! You hear that, Grandpa? You always were a pain
in the ass and you still are a pain in the ass!” Sara lifted her
cane up in the air, shaking it.
“Gosh. Well.” Okay,
so what do you say to that? Nikki had no clue, but she was ready to
hightail it outta there. Listening to the ranting of a
ninety-year-old was not exactly what she wanted to be doing at this
point, and she didn’t need anyone else walking into the office and
seeing her there. She got the feeling that Sara might be old, and
even strange, but not stupid. Nikki couldn’t help wondering if Sara
hadn’t seen more of what she had been doing in the den than she’d
let on. Nikki knew there was a good possibility that Sara may have
seen those pictures herself. Someone had. “I’ve got to go. Thank
you for everything. I am terribly sorry for your
loss.”
“What loss? I never
liked that blonde pickpocket hussy anyway. Good riddance. Maybe if
we’re lucky she grabbed grandpa on her way out of here and took him
to hell with her.”
“Right. Good night.”
Nikki wanted to leave that comment and
Sara as quickly as possible.
She met Derek at the
car and before long they were on their way home.
“You’re sure quiet,”
he said as they drove back over the pass.
“A lot happened
tonight.” She’d already decided not to say anything to him about
the photos she’d found. She knew Derek wasn’t crazy about her
occasional side job of wine country snoop.
“It did. I’m sorry
you found Susan like that. It must’ve been terrible for
you.”
“It appears I have
some sort of magnet that attracts me straight to dead bodies.” She
tried to laugh at her own macabre joke, but couldn’t.
Neither did Derek. “I
really didn’t want things to go this way tonight. I wanted us to be
able to talk and laugh, dance . . . you know. We’re always so
focused on our business and since I haven’t replaced Gabriel with a
new winemaker yet, I’ve been busy trying to do it
myself.”
“I know. It’s
okay.”
He sighed. “Do you
want to stop off at Hurley’s for a late supper? We can catch up.
I’ve missed visiting with you.”
Nikki knew what he
meant. Since the loss of the Malveaux Estate winemaker shortly
after Nikki came to work at the winery, he’d buried himself in his
work. Nikki was so new that she’d taken his lead and worked
constantly herself, learning everything she could about the wine
business. When she’d first started working for him, they’d taken
some time to hang out in the evenings and share dinners, while he
educated her on winemaking and grape growing. The industry
fascinated her and so did Derek Malveaux. But he was always the
gentleman and never took it any further than the casual business
relationship they shared. However, Nikki knew at least for her,
that something was bubbling inside her for Derek and she wished
that he felt the same way toward her. She’d realized soon after
taking the job at Malveaux that he would need time to get over some
of the rough stuff that had gone on in his life in the recent past,
including an ugly divorce. And she’d decided he was worth the
wait.
“What do you
say?”
She wanted to. She
really, really wanted to, but she also wanted to sort out in her
mind what she’d seen in those pictures inside the envelope at the
Waltman Castle. “Tell you what. We’re both tired. Why don’t you
come back to the cottage with me for a nightcap and some snacky
stuff? You like Saturday Night
Live?”
“Let’s do
it.”
Once inside Nikki’s
cottage she poured them each a glass of chilled pinot
noir.
“Look at you,” Derek
commented when she handed him the glass. “You continue to amaze
me.”
“What, with chilling
the red wine?”
He nodded and took a
sip.
“I recently read a
small article in one of the wine magazines about which reds taste
good chilled. This one topped the list.”
“I can see why, with
the strawberry and floral notes. I think the chilling enhances it.
What do you think that floral note is?”
Nikki brought the
glass to her nose and inhaled the bouquet of the wine. “Violet,
maybe?”
“I think you’re
right. I like this idea. Maybe we should see how our zin would
taste chilled.”
“I think it would be
good.” Nikki went back to the kitchen and set her wine down on the
center isle in the kitchen. Alrighty. She rubbed her hands together
and then opened her fridge, finding what she was looking for—a
roasted chicken. She roasted at least one a week and made it one of
her staples. This one was perfect for what she was about to do
because she’d roasted it in an ancho chili rub.
Derek walked over to
her and reaching around her set his wine next to hers. Having him
so close inside her cottage sent her nerves churning. “Can I help
you do anything?”
“Um, sure. Grab a
knife if you don’t mind peeling and slicing a couple of those
mangoes.” She pointed to the ripe tropical fruit in a
bowl.
He selected three of
them and the next thing Nikki knew, Derek was performing a juggling
act for her. She opened her mouth and covered her laughter with her
hand. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“Yes, it’s true, I’m
a closet juggler.” He dropped one of the ripe mangoes, which went
splat on the floor. “Wait, let me change my title, I’m a
world-class juggler.” They both laughed. Derek set the other two
mangoes on the kitchen island. “I think maybe I should stick to
winemaking.”
“There does seem to
be more money in that, and I hate to tell you, but it doesn’t
appear juggling is going to be your claim to fame.” Nikki grabbed a
dish towel off the counter and bent down to wipe it up. He bent
down too, scraping the fruit into his palm. He looked at her and
their laughter subsided.
“Here, let me do
that.” Taking the towel from her hands he finished wiping up the
mess on the floor.
Nikki stood and
fanned herself with her hands, then grabbed her glass of wine and
took a big gulp. Good thing it was chilled. Derek finished cleaning
the mess and started peeling the mangoes. Nikki cut up an avocado
and some scallions and then placed the ingredients over some
mesclun. “Okay, I’m ready for those mangoes.”
“Me, too,” he replied
and then went suddenly bright red.
Nikki opened the
fridge and stuck her head inside to find a lime, figuring her face
was as red as his, and not wanting him to see. It was funny how
they seemed to always do that with each other. Those double
entendres. For goodness’ sakes, innocent words should not make a
grown man and woman blush.
Nikki squeezed the
lime on top of the mangoes, then mixed all of the ingredients
together with some oil and balsamic. All in less than ten minutes a
fairly healthy gourmet dinner was created.
“Nice night, should
we take it outside?” Derek suggested.
“Why not? Let me get
my sweater.” She went back into her bedroom and slipped out of the
spectacular sea green Calvin she’d worn. She pulled on a pair of
light blue cashmere sweats Aunt Cara had indulged her with last
Christmas, the label on the inside reading Juicy. It made Nikki
smile. How could you not feel good in something cashmere with the
name Juicy on it? Even better—they were in a size small, a size she
worked hard for everyday with the jogging and the Tae Bo, and those
Firm tapes with the steps and weights. Those were some evil women
on those tapes. But right now those insane “step up, step down,
lift your leg to the side and do the samba up and over the two-foot
step” tyrants were freaking goddesses because Nikki’s ass was
fitting right into those Juicy sweats.
When she came back
out, Derek had not only taken the food and wine onto the front
porch, but he’d lit candles all around and had put her Jack Johnson
CD on the stereo.
“Hope you don’t mind.
This is such a great CD. I always wanted to learn to play the
guitar. This guy is really good.” He was sitting on the porch in
her wicker love seat. The dinner plates were in front of him on a
matching table.
“Of course I don’t
mind. But I have to give you some advice about learning to play the
guitar. If your musical talent parallels your juggling ability,
then don’t do it. Just listen to someone else play.”
“Harsh. Very, very
harsh.”
She laughed and sat
down next to him, brushing up against his bare arm. He’d rolled up
the sleeves on his button-down shirt after taking off his jacket
and tie.
“Soft. Nice,” he
said. “Your outfit I mean, because you
are a mean woman.”
“Yes, well, it is
something I pride myself in. I promise I’ll be sweet for the rest
of the night, but I can’t promise what might happen when the clock
strikes midnight.” She picked up her wine glass, which he refilled.
“You sure know how to treat a girl.” She bit her lip the minute the
sentence rolled off her tongue. God, how dumb could one sound? She
hadn’t been a girl for over twenty years.
“Yeah, no kidding,
especially after taking you to a wedding where the bride dies and
you find her.”
Thank God, his
comeback was almost as dumb as hers. “It was really weird finding
her like that.”
“Let’s not talk about
it.”
He raised his glass
for a toast. “To you.”
“Me?
Why?”
“Why not? You’ve
lasted here for half a year, and you deserve a toast after what
these past months have thrown your way. After tonight, I figure I
better at least toast you, because, if I were you, I’d be running
from the wine country as fast as I could.”
“I’m not going
anywhere. Not much scares me away.”
“So we’ll drink to
you, my unafraid, ever curious um . . .”
“Assistant?”
“No.
Friend.”
She brought her glass
up. “I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked their
crystal together. She couldn’t help but follow Derek’s lips from
the time they touched the glass until he moved it away. And when
his eyes caught hers, she could’ve sworn he’d been watching her in
the same way.
“So, what’s up with
you and Andrés?” he asked, setting his wine glass
down.
“What do you mean?”
she asked.
“What do I mean? Like
you don’t know? Come on, Nikki, I’ve seen the way he looks at you
and I’ve also seen the way he hugs you and always gives you that
almost too-nice of a kiss on your cheek, whether it’s to say hello
or goodbye.”
Was someone jealous
here? If she didn’t know better, she’d think that maybe Derek had
been bitten by the green-eyed monster. “We’re just friends. That’s
all. Like you and me.”
Derek raised his
eyebrows in mock pretense. “If that’s what you think, I mean about
you and Andrés, then you’re blind, because he is after you.”
“I think you’ve got
it wrong there. How is your love life going, by the way? Tara
Beckenroe still chasing you around town at every
opportunity?”
“The blonde devil?
Yeah, she’s a royal pain.”
“No kidding. Talk
about somebody who has the hots for someone. She’s not going to
give up until she sinks those phony acrylic claws in
you.”
“She’ll have to do it
after I’m dead and six feet under, because Tara Beckenroe is
certainly not my type.”
Nikki looked
pointedly at him. His comment getting her interest. “What is your
type?”
Derek leaned back
against the sofa. “That’s a loaded question. I haven’t thought much
about it since Meredith,” he replied, referring to his ex-wife.
“Tell me, is Andrés Fernandez your type?”
“You don’t get off
that easy. You didn’t answer my question. And I don’t know if
Andrés is my type. I mean, do we really have to have types? Isn’t
falling in love or liking someone and falling for them more of a
natural progression than simply type casting, and searching out
that perfect ‘type,’ or what you think is that perfect type? At my
age . . .”
“Oh right, you’re so
old.”
She socked him
lightly on the shoulder. “You know what I’m saying. At least for
women in their late thirties and on, forming relationships takes a
different path than it once did. In your twenties it’s all about
who is the hot guy, but I’m finding that friendship and a building
of trust is what creates a real attraction.” What a bunch of crap.
The fact was, yeah Derek was a great guy and someone she felt close
to because they’d built a friendship, but when it came down to it,
he was not a hard man to look at. His baby blues, square jawline
and tanned biceps were still the initial attraction.
“I feel the same way,
too.”
“What a
cop-out.”
“Goes both ways,”
Derek replied. “I’ll let you off the hook for now.”
“Let me off the hook?
Ha! You’re the one getting away with avoiding answering the third
degree about relationships.”
“It’s all a matter of
point of view. I’ll change the subject. Let’s talk about your
family.”
Nikki groaned. That
was an even more difficult subject. “I’ve told you, my aunt raised
me. I was born in Tennessee, thus the very slight, once in a blue
moon accent. My parents were poor. My father was killed in a car
accident and my mom sent me to California to live with my
aunt.”
“I know that’s the
short version, but I want to know more. I want to know about your
childhood, your friends, where you went to school, all of
it.”
“It’s boring.” She
waved a hand in the air. “It really is.”
“Fine, tell me about
your teenage years, by then you were in California with your aunt.
She must be quite a gal.”
“She is. Definitely.”
Nikki didn’t mind talking about Aunt Cara who meant everything to
her and was really the only mother she’d ever known.
As she was about to
say, “Let’s talk about the vineyard,” which would be a safe topic,
a car’s tires squealed off the payment from Highway 29 and sped
into the Estate. They could see its headlights coming their way.
The next thing they knew a Porsche Carerra pulled up in front of
the cottage. Nikki’s jaw dropped. She looked over at Derek who
crossed his arms in front of him.
Ah, the Boys of
Summer. Nikki and Derek watched as Simon—Derek’s half brother, and
his lover, Marco, stepped out of the car. When Nikki signed on at
Malveaux she’d dubbed the two nitwits with her Boys of Summer tag
and they in turn had a pet name for her.
“Goldilocks, you’re
still here,” Simon said. “I thought after that bad business with
the murders and all last year, you would’ve taken your pretty tail
back on down to the City of Angels. We were hoping to stay in the
cottage.”
Marco swaggered up to
the porch and batted his long eyelashes at them. In his Italian
accent he said, “I’m happy you’re here, Bellisima. You make this place interesting. And,
look, do I detect love in the air?” Marco pointed to the now
emptied wine glasses.
“That’s not exactly a
shockaroonie. We knew it was a matter of time before you two were
shacking up. Mommie Dearest must be beside herself.”
“We’re not
‘together,’ you morons. We’re simply having dinner,” Derek
replied.
“God, you two are so
silly. Why don’t you get it over with? Get it on already and we can
all go forward with our lives,” Simon said.
“Boys, be good and go
stay at a B and B in town, please,” Derek said.
“And miss the fun? No
way. We’re going up to the main house. Let’s do lunch tomorrow,
Goldilocks. We have so much to tell. We’ve been Zenning out in
Sedona and found the most marvelous of gurus. His name is Guru
Sansibaba, and I’m telling you, both Marco and I are changed men.
Material things mean nothing. We’re like the openhearted, open
souls to the world and our fellow man and woman, of course, that
our spirit guides have so graciously shown us how to
become.”
“Along with Guru
Sansibaba,” Marco said.
“Yes, of course,”
Simon replied.
“That’s obvious with
the convertible there. What happened to the fashion shows in New
York?” Nikki pointed to the Porsche.
“Yes, well, just
because we know materialism is a fruitless path, we don’t have to
deny ourselves in this life,” Marco said. “Simon wanted to get rid
of the Mercedes. This is a fit for our new image. The shows in New
York disappointed me. I don’t think I have the need to design for
that world any longer.”
“Interesting. And as
far as the Porsche goes, well, I can totally see how the rest of
the world might not think of a Porsche as a materialistic person’s
kind of car,” Nikki said.
“See you love bugs
tomorrow.” Simon got behind the wheel and he and Marco tore up the
road toward the main house.
“I’ve really missed
them,” Nikki said.
“Yeah,
right.”
“Simon does seem a
bit more chipper, he’s usually sour-faced and nasty. I thought he
was almost nice.”
“It won’t last. Here,
I’ll help you clear the plates.”
Even though Nikki
wasn’t especially pleased to see the return of the boys after
they’d been gone for several months, she was happy they’d provided
the distraction they had. Derek dropped the topics of discussion
for the evening. With the dishes washed, he stretched, letting out
a yawn.
“Tired?” Nikki
asked.
“A bit.”
“Yeah, me, too, it’s
been a long day.”
“Tuesday, right?
Dinner? I have to go out of town for a couple of days to take care
of some charity business, but we are on for Tuesday?”
“Absolutely.” The
other day Derek had invited her to come to dinner on Tuesday with
him and their accountant, to discuss some business. She loved the
fact that he was so involved with the Leukemia Foundation. He was
very hands-on and had been for years. His mother had passed away
from the terrible disease when he was a kid, and he’d kept her
memory going by dedicating much of his time to helping find a
cure.
“I’ll call when I get
in.” He kissed her on the cheek. His kiss was different than
Andrés’. It was sweet and tender. Andrés’ kiss always came with a
sense of urgency and electrifying energy. Derek’s kiss on the cheek
was like melting chocolate candies inside the mouth.
Yummy.
He left and she went
into her room, flopping down on the bed. With a sigh she reflected
on the day’s and evening’s events from the morbid and horrific to
the light and funny, and she smiled at the tinge of romance that
filled the air. At least she allowed herself to believe it. What
was life without some fantasy to string you along?
However, her last
thoughts before drifting to sleep weren’t pleasant. The first was a
memory of the past—something she wanted to forget. When she was
seven she’d been in a car accident that had killed the man she’d
always thought was her father, only later discovering that they
were not related at all. She’d been hurt badly in the accident,
spending two weeks in a coma before her mother shipped her off to
California to be raised by her Aunt Cara. She didn’t want to think
about the one thing that she and Susan Jennings Waltman had in
common—the lack of a mother. But Nikki didn’t care if she ever saw
her mother again. The next and final thought she had before sleep
overtook her had to do with the photos she’d seen of Susan
Jennings, and who it was Susan had been having sex with in those
pictures—Blake Sorgensen.
Chile-Rubbed
Chicken,
Mango, and Avocado Salad
with Franciscan Oakville Estate’s
Cabernet Sauvignon
Mango, and Avocado Salad
with Franciscan Oakville Estate’s
Cabernet Sauvignon
Let’s say it’s been a long night and maybe you didn’t come across a dead body or have to cut the evening short with the man of your dreams due to unwelcome visitors, but you have your own reasons for wanting to mix up something easy, fun, healthy and fast. Keep in mind that Nikki does like to roast a chicken or two on Sunday afternoons to have on hand during the week. This is great whether you’re a single gal, a committed woman, or in charge of a family because you can use chicken for a variety of meals, including sack lunches. If you don’t prepare your chicken ahead of time, then it will take you a little more time to throw this dish together and your chicken will be warm. However, the flavors will still be delicious and you can open wine while you’re sautéing the chicken breasts in the chile rub. One to try is Franciscan Oakville Estate’s Cabernet Sauvignon. This wine has bold earth flavors of coffee, tobacco, and toasted oak, making it a full-bodied, rich wine with a maturity that leaves the oenophile desiring more as the supple tannins provide a lingering finish.
If you like a white
wine or a wine that has a bit of a sweeter taste to it, one to try
that would complement this dish would be a Riesling. Rieslings are
usually a good choice with Thai or Mexican dishes as they work well
with warm spices. They also pair well with light and fruity dishes,
so this is a perfect match because of the mango and spice. An
excellent value and delicious Riesling comes from V. Sattui. You
can only order their wines online, but it is well worth it. A blend
of Riesling and Muscat, this slightly sweet white is a great party
or picnic wine. It matches well with so many foods, it’s refreshing
to drink and it commands a modest price.
3 tbsp brown sugar
1⁄4 cup water
1⁄4 cup plus 2 tbsp fresh lime juice, plus lime
wedges for serving
1 tbsp red chile powder
1 tsp chipotle chile powder
1 clove crushed garlic
1⁄4 cup vegetable oil
Salt and pepper
One 3 lb roasted chicken, skin removed, meat
shredded (3 cups)
1 ripe mango, peeled and cut in 1⁄2 inch chunks
3 scallions thinly sliced
5 oz mesclun (6 cups)
Roasting the chicken: Clean and season the chicken with salt, pepper, or poultry seasonings, and ancho chile powder. Place on a rack in a shallow roasting pan and cook at 450° for 15-20 minutes. This will seal the juices. Then reduce the heat to 375°. There is no need to baste the chicken. Length will vary with the size of the chicken. The best method to tell if it’s ready is with a meat thermometer placed in the thickest part of the thigh, which should read between 175°-180°. Once the chicken is roasted, allow it time to cool before shredding and preparing the salad.
In a small saucepan,
bring the brown sugar and water to boil. Transfer to a large bowl.
Whisk in the lime juice chilé powder, chipotle powder, and garlic;
let cool. Whisk in the oil and season with salt and pepper. Add the
chicken, mango, and scallions and toss thoroughly with the
dressing. Add the mesclun and gently toss. Transfer the salad to
plates and serve with lime wedges.
If you decide to
sauté the chicken breasts, sauté over medium-high heat in sauté pan
with a tablespoon of oil. Season chicken with salt and pepper.
Brown the chicken on each side. When finished, dice chicken and
proceed with recipe as above.