Ripped From the Pages (16 page)

“Who was that cutie pie?” my sister whispered.

I whipped around and gave her a hug. “I didn’t realize you were finished. How are
you?”

“Great. I’ve missed you. I was wondering when you’d come in to see me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner, but we’ve been running around forever, dealing
with the cave treasures and getting the exhibit prepared.”

She smiled. “You and Derek always cause such excitement when you come to Dharma.”

I laughed. “Oh yeah, excitement is one word for it. Look, Derek is waiting for me
over at Umbria, but can we get together for lunch sometime this week?”

“Absolutely. I’m dying to tell you about London’s latest claim to fame.”

“Oh no. Is she having triplets?”

China laughed. Our youngest sister, London, was always doing something that was so
much more fabulous than any of us had ever done. For instance, when China’s darling
baby, Hannah, was born, London used the occasion to announce that she was pregnant
with twins. We loved London to death, but we also enjoyed giving her grief.

London, who had been named after London, Ontario,
Canada, where my mother went into labor after a Grateful Dead show, never minded our
teasing. As the youngest, she was used to it.

Rather than name their children lovely, classic,
solid
names, as my mother had described
Elizabeth’s
, my parents had chosen to name us after the cities in which we were either conceived
or born. Because my parents had been rabid Grateful Dead fans, most of those cities
were places in which the revered band had once performed. The one exception was my
sister China, who was born after a protest march at the Naval Air Weapons Station
at China Lake, out in the Mojave Desert.

I promised China I would call her in a few days and grabbed her for a hug good-bye,
then jogged across the street to Umbria, where I found Derek in the middle of a Primitivo
wine flight. Wine flights had been popular for years and were a good way to learn
more about the different types of wines. A bar or winery would offer three half glasses
of either the same wine from different vintages, or three red wines of varying color
or richness, or three of the exact same wine that had been stored in three different
types of oak barrels. Places were always coming up with new themes for their wine
flights. It was a fun way to figure out how to distinguish one wine from the next.

The last time we’d visited Dharma, my father had been raving about the Primitivo grapes
he had planted. They were said to possess the exact same genetic characteristics as
Zinfandel, but the wines tended to be different in color, richness, and levels of
earthiness. It made sense, of course, given what we already knew about the
terroir
.

Derek stood when he saw me approaching and pulled out a bar stool for me. “Darling,
you’re just in time to rescue me from this diabolical bartender.”

“You poor thing.” I sat down and smiled at the man behind the bar. I’d known him for
years. “Hi, Lance.”

“Hey, Brooklyn. We just added this Primitivo wine flight to our list. Would you like
to try it?”

“Not tonight, thanks. I’ll just help Derek with his.”

I took a sip of the lightest of the three wines in the order. It was an old-vine Zinfandel
from a vineyard up in Geyserville. “I like that.”

“I thought you would.” Lance handed me the second glass. “This is the Primitivo. It’s
from Abruzzi in Southern Italy.”

I held up the glass and admired the color, then took a sip. “This is spicier than
the first one.”

“I thought so, too.”

I took another small sip and savored it. “I’m getting a hint of toasted almond.”

“Very good, love. I tasted more vanilla than almond.”

“That’s the oak you’re both tasting,” Lance explained. He handed me the third glass.
“Here’s the Barbera.”

I swirled the wine, feeling only slightly pretentious. But since this was wine country,
I was hardly alone. “This color is beautiful. It’s the deepest of the three.”

“As it should be,” Derek said.

“This is the kind of wine that stains my teeth.”

“We’ll only have a sip or two.”

I smiled and took that sip and tasted its light, sour-cherry essence. “Strange that
it’s so dark in color, but light in flavor.”

“That’s what makes it a perfect everyday wine,” Lance said. “Except for the unfortunate
teeth-staining part.”

After a few more sips of the three wines, our hostess arrived and Derek paid the bar
bill. As soon as we were seated at our table, I started to tell Derek about running
into Josh Atherton. But before I could get a full sentence out, we were interrupted
by our waiter, who approached with two fresh glasses of red wine and set them in front
of us.

“We didn’t order these,” Derek murmured to the waiter.

“From the gentleman and lady over there,” he said, pointing.

We turned and saw two of the reporters from our press conference at city hall. They
were easy to recognize because they both had red hair and freckles. The man was short
and heavy and wore denim overalls with a Hawaiian shirt, while the woman was almost
six feet tall and wore a bright yellow jumpsuit with turquoise high-top tennis shoes.
She was the spiky redhead who had asked the question about access to the caves. Together
they were the oddest, brightest, most interesting-looking couple I’d seen in a while.
And for someone living in San Francisco, that was saying a lot.

They were watching us eagerly, and since it was too late to refuse the wine, we smiled
and held up our glasses in a toast. The two grinned at each other and came to our
table.

“We just wanted to say a quick thank-you,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m
Darlene Smith.”

“And I’m Shawn Jones,” the man said. We all shook hands.

Darlene grinned. “We have a popular Bay Area news blog called Alias Smith and Jones.
Not exactly original, but we’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of it.”

“It’s clever,” I said. “I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s got a pretty good following, if I do say so myself,” Shawn said.

“Listen,” Darlene said. “We won’t take up your time, but we wanted to thank you for
recommending the photo exhibit. You were right—it answered a lot of questions. So . . .
thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said politely. “I’m glad it helped.”

“Was that your mother working there?” Shawn asked. “With the blond ponytail? You two
look a lot alike. Pretty.”

I gave him a questioning look. “I’m not sure . . .”

Darlene rolled her eyes and elbowed Shawn in the ribs. “Dude, you sound like a stalker.”
She turned back to me. “Don’t listen to him. We met a lovely woman named Becky, and
she told us her
daughter had given a press conference at city hall. We figured it was you.”

“Ah.” I smiled tightly, wondering what in the world my mother had told them. They
were, after all, reporters, and easy to talk to, it seemed. “Yeah, that’s my mom.”

“She’s a kick in the pants,” Shawn said, rubbing his side where Darlene’s elbow had
made contact. “And a real beauty, just saying. She was doing the whole tour guide
thing and working in a lot of her own opinions and thoughts about the caves. I wrote
it all down. Really great stuff.”

“I hope so.” But inside I was thinking,
Oh dear, I can’t wait for the exposé.

“We’re interrupting your dinner,” Darlene said suddenly, nailing her partner with
another elbow to the rib cage. “Let’s go, Shawn. Just wanted to thank you guys again.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek said. “Thank you for the wine. Very kind of you.”

Darlene leaned closer to me and said, “Oh, honey. That voice of his makes me want
to swoon.” Then she pulled Shawn away and waved over her shoulder. “Great to meet
you two!”

Derek and I stared at each other for a full thirty seconds before we could speak again.

No doubt about it, we were going to need more wine.

By the time I left to meet Trudy’s friend Elizabeth for lunch on Thursday, I’d heard
from four people who had been approached by Josh Atherton for interviews. According
to China, who called me first thing, he was so nice, she couldn’t say no.

His questions were good ones, too. More penetrating and insightful than the usual,
“What would you do with the treasure?” According to China, most of the reporters had
been asking the same litany of questions.

“And Josh is awfully cute,” she added. “I was thinking I might set him up with Annie.”

Annie, Abraham’s once-estranged daughter, had met her father just before he died.
A month after that, her mother had passed away from a long illness. Annie had decided
to move to Dharma to regroup and start over, thanks to so many of Abraham’s friends
welcoming her as they would a beloved family member. She moved into Abraham’s beautiful
home, and, months later, she opened an upscale kitchenware shop on the Lane and business
was booming. Annie had made a place for herself here.

“Josh is pretty cute,” I agreed. “But don’t forget he’s a reporter and he’s looking
for ways to boost his story. I wouldn’t get too close to him until the story’s been
written and published. And frankly, I doubt he’ll stick around once that happens.”

“Well, he’s nice and Annie’s lonely, so maybe I’ll drop a hint or two.”

I smiled as I hung up the phone. China was a much more open, generous person than
I was. Of course, I’d seen the seamier side of life and no longer had the ability
to openly trust people as she did. And didn’t that make me sound like an old warhorse?
I
hated the thought that living in the city might’ve made me more cynical than my sisters
who’d remained in the wine country.

Talking to China reminded me that I hadn’t been over to see Annie at her store yet.
It would be easy to drop by after lunch and say hello. I’d already been to the house
to use Abraham’s workshop this week, so I really needed to make the effort to see
her in person and thank her.

China’s phone call also reminded me that I wanted to look up Josh’s credentials. Especially
if he was going to go out with Annie, whom my mother considered an adopted daughter.
I went online and checked the
Antiquities
Web site. The magazine came out bimonthly and had an extensive online presence. Josh
was a senior editor and wrote several articles for each issue as well as a blog column
once a week for the Web site.

I clicked onto a few of his articles to get an idea of his style. His personality
seemed to come through in the narrative, which was completely accessible and entertaining.
I wasn’t used to that in an academic journal. To compare, I checked a few of his colleagues’
works and found them much drier. They were a little more educational, but not fun
at all. Some were downright boring.

It was good to know that Josh was exactly who he claimed to be. But I still wouldn’t
rush to recommend him as a date for Annie—not that my opinion would keep China from
doing so.

I pulled up in front of Trudy’s and saw her standing on the front porch with an attractive
woman about my age. They were waiting for me, I realized, and I wondered if they’d
come outside to avoid dealing with Amelia.

Maybe I was projecting, but I was still grateful to avoid the grumpy woman.

“Hi,” I said, strolling up the walkway.

“Oh, Brooklyn, you made it,” Trudy said, pressing a hand to her chest. Had she been
nervous that I wouldn’t?

I took a quick glance at my wristwatch. I was right on time. Was she that anxious
to get rid of Elizabeth? Or was Amelia making life difficult for her?

The other woman bounced down the steps and extended her arm to shake my hand. “Hi,
I’m Elizabeth Trent. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“I’m Brooklyn Wainwright. It’s good to meet you, too.”

I liked her immediately because of her open smile and obvious warmth. Elizabeth Trent
was just plain beautiful, with long black hair, intelligent brown eyes, and olive
skin. She was my height, and she wore khaki cargo pants with a white blouse and brown
flats. It was uncanny how similar our outfits were—tan jeans, white blouse, and brown
flats. What were the chances?

I started to walk up to the porch, but Trudy waved me away. “You girls go on now.
No need to stick around and keep me company.”

“Okay,” I said, “but I’ll stop to visit with you on the way back.”

“You’re a sweet peach. Now go have a good time. And thank you again, Brooklyn. I know
Elizabeth will enjoy herself with you.”

We both waved and climbed into my car. Elizabeth gave me a look of sheer appreciation.
“Thank you so much. Trudy is wonderful, but it’s nice to get out and meet people.”

Driving off toward the center of town, I asked, “And how’s Amelia handling things?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth paused. “She seems nice.”

I burst out laughing. “She’s a toad, but she’s a good companion for Trudy. At least,
that’s what my mother keeps telling me.”

Elizabeth was openly relieved to hear me say what she was probably thinking. “She’s
friendly enough with Trudy, but I’m definitely not one of her favorites.”

“Trust me. Compared to her feelings for me, she’s probably deeply in love with you.”

She shook her head. “I seriously doubt it.”

“Oh, Amelia has no favorites. Ever. About anything or anybody.” We shared a few Amelia
stories, and by the time we reached the Lane and parked, we were laughing like old
friends.

As we walked down the sidewalk, I pointed out spots of interest, such as the park
surrounding the town hall at the end of the Lane, the in-town tasting rooms for some
of the local wineries, and a few of the better restaurants, notably, my sister’s Arugula.

Elizabeth gazed into each of the store windows as we passed and finally stopped to
look at the items on display in the pottery shop window. “I’m going to have to devote
an entire day to shopping. These stores are calling my name.”

“They do that to me, too.”

“The whole town is so pretty.” She pointed to the row of shops across the street,
one of which was China’s Warped. “I love the vines growing on the buildings and all
the old stone and brick facades. It’s got a real old-world charm.”

“I agree. If you have time after lunch, I thought we’d go over to the town hall, and
I’ll show you our new exhibit.”

“I’d like to see it.”

We walked past another few stores and stopped at the corner. “We’re going to lunch
across the street. I hope you like Mexican food.”

“I love it,” she said. “I can’t get decent Mexican food where I live.”

“That’s a tragedy.” We crossed the street and walked into El Diablo. “Here we are.”

“The Devil,” she said with a laugh. “What a great name.”

We walked into the cool, dark restaurant. The hostess took us to a comfortable booth
where a waiter appeared with chips and salsa.

Elizabeth grabbed a chip, dragged it through the salsa, and took a bite. “This salsa
is fantastic.”

“Everything’s good here. It may be a little early, but if you like margaritas, they
serve the best in the world.”

“I’d love one, but I probably shouldn’t indulge at lunch.” She brightened. “Maybe
I’ll come back for dinner.”

I grinned. “Excellent plan.”

She crunched down on another crispy, salty chip and sighed. “I’m in heaven.”

Once we’d placed our orders, Elizabeth said, “Thank you again for playing tour guide.
I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. I’m having a good time.” I took a sip of water and leaned back against
the classic tuck-and-roll vinyl fabric of the booth. “So, where are you living that
you can’t get good Mexican food? I need to know so I don’t go there.”

She laughed. “I live in a small town in Michigan, in the upper peninsula. I know they
have some good Mexican restaurants in that part of the world, but not in my town.”

“Were you born and raised there?”

“Not really. I was a navy brat, so I grew up all over the place. Even spent two years
in Sicily.”

“We have a naval base in Sicily?”

“Yes, we do. It was fun living there, but being a kid, I naturally whined about going
home to Michigan most of the time. And once I got home, I couldn’t wait to leave again.”

“No wonder I can’t place your accent.”

“It’s because I’m a mutt,” she said. “I even affected an Italian accent for years
after we left Sicily. I was such an annoying child.”

“I’m pretty sure we were all annoying children.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “It’s the role of children everywhere to annoy adults.”

I smiled. “We sound so cynical.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re getting along so well.”

Chuckling, I grabbed another chip, dunked it into the salsa, and popped it into my
mouth. “So your grandmother and Trudy were old friends?”

“Yes, my grandparents spent their honeymoon here and returned every year for vacation.
At some point, Grandma Reenie met Trudy, and they became friends. After that, they
corresponded and got together every year. Grandma died last year, and I haven’t been
very good about contacting her old friends.”

“You can’t be expected to do it all right away.”

“I guess not.” Idly, she dragged the edge of one chip through the salsa and seemed
to study the pattern it made. “I had a hard time for a while. I think I fell into
a depression, although I didn’t recognize it at the time. Grandma was my only living
relative, and we were really close.”

“I’m so sorry.” I already liked Elizabeth. Knowing that she’d been alone and hurting
made me feel for her. “Is Reenie your grandmother’s nickname?”

“Yes, short for Irene.”

“Was she Irish?”

“Can you tell?” Elizabeth laughed. “She was my mom’s mother. Mom was Irish down to
her toes, with beautiful strawberry blond hair and a peaches and cream complexion.”
She brushed her hand over her head of dark hair. “Naturally, I take after my dad.”

“Your hair is gorgeous.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but thank you.”

There was a short pause, and we both reached for the chips.

Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve been doing better lately, contacting Grandma’s old friends
around town. And then I heard on the news that they found that treasure here, and
I recalled that Trudy lived
nearby, so I gave her a call. And it was the best thing I could’ve done. She reminds
me of my grandmother in so many ways.”

“That’s wonderful. I hope you two have a great visit.”

“I think we will. We’re going champagne tasting tomorrow.”

I laughed. “How fun.”

I recommended a few good champagne houses, and we settled into an easy conversation
over
poblano
chiles rellenos
and
tacos
al
carbón
.

After lunch, we walked over to the town hall in the middle of the park. On the way,
I explained that we’d decided to take pictures of the artwork and items we’d found
in the caves and display them for anyone interested in the story. “Not only is the
discovery historically important, but there are also a lot of families with a vested
interest in keeping these items safe. So we decided to keep everything locked up in
the storage caves and created this exhibit for the families and the community to enjoy
in the meantime.”

“It’s fascinating,” Elizabeth said. “It sounds like you were dealing with a lot of
disparate parties.”

“Yes, and some of them are very unhappy.” I was thinking of Henri as I said it, but
a picture of Noland Garrity sprang to mind and almost ruined my afternoon.

“I should think the owners would be overjoyed at the discovery.”

“Well, there’s a dispute over whether the items were actually stolen or just accidentally
hidden away for some seventy years.”

Her eyes were focused on something in the distance. “I’ll be interested to see the
photographs.”

“Here we are.” I led the way up the wide steps of the town hall and into the exhibit
space.

“Amazing,” Elizabeth whispered. She gazed around at the impressive display, walked
to the ends of each aisle to check what was there, and then headed straight for the
group of pictures detailing
the
Dancing Woman
painting, the one I thought had been painted in the style of Renoir. She stared at
each one of the photos for a long time and seemed to have forgotten I was there. I
was fine with that, just happy to know that someone could be so engrossed in the exhibit.

I left her alone and wandered over to the next row, where the photos of the furniture
were hanging. I loved the details of the inlaid wood that Robin had managed to capture
with her camera and my excellent lighting.

“It just figures you’d be here.”

I turned and found Noland Garrity glaring at me. I couldn’t think of anything pleasant
to say, so I waited for him to speak.

“This isn’t art,” he said derisively. “It’s a pitiful excuse. I get nothing out of
it. I need access to the caves, and if I can’t obtain keys from your boyfriend, I’ll
go directly to Robson myself.”

“Robson is a busy man,” I said, trying for the equanimity I’d seen Derek display.
“If you need access, Derek will assist you. Just call his cell number. He made it
clear, he’s available whenever you are.”

“I just called him, and he can’t be there until three o’clock. What am I supposed
to do until then?”

I checked my watch. “It’s two thirty. I think you’ll live till three.” So much for
equanimity. I couldn’t help the snarky comment. What was this guy’s problem? I wanted
to smack him.

“You have been nothing but rude and sarcastic and—”

“Good-bye, Mr. Garrity.” I said it quickly and walked away before he could insult
or threaten me any further because I would have to pound him into sand if he did.
For the next ten minutes I skimmed the outer edges of the room until I saw him walk
out the door. I breathed more easily.

What a crank! I didn’t care if he knew everything there was to know about art. He
was a horrible man who didn’t have a clue
about how to get along with people. I just prayed that he didn’t treat Guru Bob the
way he treated me.