Four
1212 Words
Four“You’re looking dreadful, Aristide. Anything I can do to help?”
“Nothing. But thanks for asking.”
He gestured her to the breakfast table. “Help yourself to croissants, Sis.”
His eyes, usually sparkling with good humor, were dull, ringed by smoky shadows.
“Things went from bad to worse last night, that’s all.”
Madeleine dropped into the empty chair beside him. They had already used two settings at the small gingham-clothed table because Sir John and her husband Caleb Stewart had risen early and were out and about on their joint business.
It was after ten o’clock, so she and her brother were starting late. The sheriffs had kept Aristide until the early hours making a statement about that man’s death. She knew that. And she was enjoying the luxury of a few sleep-ins, pampering herself after discovering she was in the early stages of coming motherhood. She’d wed only three months ago, and at thirty she was old to be having her first child, so she was digesting the news for a while.
She’d sensed this morning was no time to be sharing the happy event with her younger brother, although he’d greet the news with enthusiasm.
“A terrible business last night. I’m sorry you were anywhere near it.”
He stopped in mid-pour, the coffee pot poised above his half-filled cup, and stared up at her, his eyes troubled. There was a long silence.
“You’re all right, aren’t you, Aristide? It must be upsetting, a violent murder and all, but it’s nothing to do with us, is it?”
He shook his head and finished pouring his coffee without speaking, before passing the pot to her. He hesitated before the plate which held several fresh croissants oozing strawberry jam, his usual appetite notably lacking.
“Now that shows me there’s something seriously wrong, when you don’t look happy about croissants,” she joked.
He had the grace to give her a weak smile.
“Sorry, Maddie. I’m not very good company today.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Ten months ago, he’d been a rock when she’d endured terrifying blackmail threats from a murderous ex-husband who deserted her years before in France and whom she’d assumed was long dead.
“You were an anchor in the storm for me this last year. Let me return the favor now.”
She reached out her hand and gave him a brief touch. “It can’t be that bad. I mean you didn’t have anything to do with his death.”
A dart of pain darkened his handsome features.
“Something is wrong, isn’t it? Tell me, Aristide.”
“That girl. Woman. The Hawaiian. Leilani Manolo.” His words were coming in short, pained bursts.
Croissant-laden hand poised midair, he paused to take a deep breath.
“She had a public spat with the man who was killed right before it happened. It just feels as if something’s not right. I’m not saying she killed him. Although Candy’s not so willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“Candy?” Madeleine couldn’t help the doubtful tone that crept into her voice. She didn’t like Candy Meadows, the princess daughter of a powerful California wine merchant, who’d suckered herself onto her brother like a tick on a Bordeaux deer. “What would she know about it?”
Aristide shrugged. “Nothing, Madeleine. You’re quite right. Not a thing. But she’s certainly got it in for her.”
Madeleine choked on her coffee and broke out coughing.
“Well, it’s not hard to see why that would be. She’s not too fond of competition, as far as I can make out.”
“I’m in a stew about it, that’s all. I was putting a lot of hope in a special deal with Bully to get our wines into the Golden Gate Symposium.”
He paused to finish his croissant.
“We need an official export agent to show we’re ready for the big time. Winning the right to have our wines on the menu at the famous places—Delmonico’s in New York, or Le Café de Paris—would set us up for international sales. It’d be an announcement that we’d arrived. There’d be no more battling the terrible reputation of California wines.”
Madeleine took in her brother’s pale drawn face, and wondered if finding an agent was all that was bothering him.
“Bully Pike’s death is bad luck. I can see that. But surely you’ve got other options. One in particular staring you right in the face.”
“You mean Ramsden Meadows?” He put his coffee cup down with a bang.
“That’s who I mean, yes. Candy’s father. Isn’t it obvious?”
“Too obvious, if you ask me.”
His eyes flickered with uncertainty. “Honestly, Maddie, I get the feeling more strongly all the time that they think this is a package deal. They take over Vino d’Oro sales, and in return Candy and I tie the knot. They’re expecting a family as well as a business alliance.”
“And you don’t want that?”
“Firstly, I’m not convinced Ramsden can handle the wines the way I want him to. You know how fanatical I am about protecting them from adulteration or tampering. That’s what’s giving California wine a bad name. The practice is far too easily accepted here. I’m insisting we have security from any possibility of adulteration.”
The energy returned to his voice at this topic, one of his pet hobbyhorses. He’d seen too much evidence of lax practice among California wine merchants and exporters to trust his precious drop to anyone.
“This is my first big chance to make something of myself, Maddie. I don’t want to be like our father, all big dreams and hot air. I want to do it right.” He paused, reached out for a refill.
“And the rest? The alliance? You’re not sure about that either, are you?”
His face took on a reluctant, guilty expression.
“I’m not.”
He shot her a weary smile. “Terrible, aren’t I? Candy is smart, beautiful, comes with the promise of a substantial inheritance as the sole heir. She’s been trained to manage it all after her father goes . . .” There was a painful silence.
“But?” Madeleine was flooded with warm relief at her brother’s discomfort. Thank goodness he’d had the sense to see through Candy’s scheming.
“But I’ve got cold feet. I’m not convinced her father is trustworthy. That’s important, isn’t it?”
Madeleine eyed him with bubbling humor.
“That’s not the whole story though, is it? It didn’t escape my notice that you seemed more than a little enchanted by Miss Hawaii last night—and that Miss Meadows wasn’t impressed.”
Aristide shot her a sheepish grin.
“Was I that obvious?”
She shook her head, laughing.
“Only to a sharp-eyed sister who loves you dearly. Don’t worry. I’m sure everyone else was too engrossed in the food to notice.”
“Well, I guess I can be thankful for small mercies.”
He pushed his chair back from the table and gave her one of his lopsided grins. “You caught me red-handed.”
He hesitated, hands resting on the back of the chair.
“But Maddie. What if she did have something to do with that agent’s death? How stupid am I to even think of getting involved?”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
His eyes momentarily couldn’t meet hers. She sensed him steeling himself to confront her gaze.
“Yes.” He straightened his shoulders.
“Yes, I am. It’s fool’s talk—pure la folie de l’amour, I know. But I can’t let this one go. She—” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “She’s different from any woman I’ve ever met.”
He wiped a hand across his tightly screwed eyes.
“Please God let her not be mixed up in murder.”
- Writer
