animosity.”
“Oh, go chow down on the appetizers, you cynical old cop. And drink some sweet wine while you’re there to brighten your outlook.”
He kissed the top of my head and headed back toward the oak bar. I walked over to Dove and Daddy, who were now comfortably situated on a long leather sofa next to an open window.
“Hey, honeybun! I swear, isn’t this place just like out of a magazine?” Dove said, patting the sofa next to her.
“Hey back.” I gave each a quick hug and sat next to her. Daddy stood next to the window, eating some barbecued Portuguese sausage. “I think it was in a decorating magazine once on California ranch estates. Maybe it was Country Living or Sunset .”
“I think it was Sunset, ” Dove said. “I remember Willow a-braggin’ about it at some historical meeting. She used to attend real regular, but I hear she spends most of her time either doing city council stuff or taking care of her mama. I guess Rose Jewel is a real handful over at Oak Terrace.”
“Really, why?”
“Apparently nothing is ever right to suit her. Willow’s over there almost every day. Would’ve been a lot easier if they’d just kept her here.”
“She didn’t want that,” I said, tucking my arm through hers. “JJ, Bliss’s sister, told me that she didn’t want to die on the ranch. She won’t even visit anymore. I guess that’s why she’s not here tonight.”
“Well, that’s odd,” Dove said.
“I know.”
“How do you know Bliss’s sister?” Dove asked.
“I thought I told you. She’s one of the artists in the co-op. I just found out today that she and Bliss are twins, though you’d never guess it by looking at them.”
Another couple had arrived, so I said, “Okay, tell me who everyone is.” Dove’s memory for faces and names, even of people she’d only met once or twice, was phenomenal.
“I’ll start with the two who just walked in,” she said in a low voice. “Now pay attention, ’cause I’m not going to repeat myself.”
Daddy let out a chuckle, the whole situation amusing him to no end. The one thing you had to say about my father was society or money didn’t impress him in the least. If you took care of your family, weren’t cruel to animals or children or people weaker than you, worshiped God, worked hard, respected the land and paid your bills on time, you were okay by his book no matter how much money or status you had. If you didn’t, you were plain white trash, no matter what color your skin happened to be.
“The woman in that flowy pink dress is Willow’s granddaughter, Arcadia Norton. Handsome fella with her is her husband, Giles Norton.”
“Snooty old Napa Valley wine family, I heard,” I commented. Arcadia had an all-American, shampoo-model prettiness with long, light brown hair and ivory skin. Giles was dressed in a pair of pressed khaki pants, a starched button-down shirt, and suede tassel loafers. Very Ivy League—looking. Thanks to Emory, I knew Arcadia was twenty-nine. Giles looked to be in his late thirties.
“Rumor has it among the grape assholes ...” Daddy started.
Dove shot him a severe look. He grinned and gave me a broad wink. “Word among the grape growers is that he’s trying to merge Seven Sisters with Norton Wine Group. Wants to go national within two years and international within five and that Willow is for it and Cappy is fighting tooth and nail against it. Don’t know where Etta stands. They’ve got some real fine pasture land up in the foothills they’re clearing to plant more grapes. Gonna take down about two hundred oak trees I heard, though the greenie-beans are fighting it with some of their fancy lawyers.” Greenie-beans is what Daddy calls the most rabid environmentalists. He shook his head, amazed at the whole thing. “We ranchers are lookin’ pretty good to the greenie-beans these days. At least they can’t accuse us of killing oaks.”
“That explains a comment Cappy made to me and Gabe about
“Oh, go chow down on the appetizers, you cynical old cop. And drink some sweet wine while you’re there to brighten your outlook.”
He kissed the top of my head and headed back toward the oak bar. I walked over to Dove and Daddy, who were now comfortably situated on a long leather sofa next to an open window.
“Hey, honeybun! I swear, isn’t this place just like out of a magazine?” Dove said, patting the sofa next to her.
“Hey back.” I gave each a quick hug and sat next to her. Daddy stood next to the window, eating some barbecued Portuguese sausage. “I think it was in a decorating magazine once on California ranch estates. Maybe it was Country Living or Sunset .”
“I think it was Sunset, ” Dove said. “I remember Willow a-braggin’ about it at some historical meeting. She used to attend real regular, but I hear she spends most of her time either doing city council stuff or taking care of her mama. I guess Rose Jewel is a real handful over at Oak Terrace.”
“Really, why?”
“Apparently nothing is ever right to suit her. Willow’s over there almost every day. Would’ve been a lot easier if they’d just kept her here.”
“She didn’t want that,” I said, tucking my arm through hers. “JJ, Bliss’s sister, told me that she didn’t want to die on the ranch. She won’t even visit anymore. I guess that’s why she’s not here tonight.”
“Well, that’s odd,” Dove said.
“I know.”
“How do you know Bliss’s sister?” Dove asked.
“I thought I told you. She’s one of the artists in the co-op. I just found out today that she and Bliss are twins, though you’d never guess it by looking at them.”
Another couple had arrived, so I said, “Okay, tell me who everyone is.” Dove’s memory for faces and names, even of people she’d only met once or twice, was phenomenal.
“I’ll start with the two who just walked in,” she said in a low voice. “Now pay attention, ’cause I’m not going to repeat myself.”
Daddy let out a chuckle, the whole situation amusing him to no end. The one thing you had to say about my father was society or money didn’t impress him in the least. If you took care of your family, weren’t cruel to animals or children or people weaker than you, worshiped God, worked hard, respected the land and paid your bills on time, you were okay by his book no matter how much money or status you had. If you didn’t, you were plain white trash, no matter what color your skin happened to be.
“The woman in that flowy pink dress is Willow’s granddaughter, Arcadia Norton. Handsome fella with her is her husband, Giles Norton.”
“Snooty old Napa Valley wine family, I heard,” I commented. Arcadia had an all-American, shampoo-model prettiness with long, light brown hair and ivory skin. Giles was dressed in a pair of pressed khaki pants, a starched button-down shirt, and suede tassel loafers. Very Ivy League—looking. Thanks to Emory, I knew Arcadia was twenty-nine. Giles looked to be in his late thirties.
“Rumor has it among the grape assholes ...” Daddy started.
Dove shot him a severe look. He grinned and gave me a broad wink. “Word among the grape growers is that he’s trying to merge Seven Sisters with Norton Wine Group. Wants to go national within two years and international within five and that Willow is for it and Cappy is fighting tooth and nail against it. Don’t know where Etta stands. They’ve got some real fine pasture land up in the foothills they’re clearing to plant more grapes. Gonna take down about two hundred oak trees I heard, though the greenie-beans are fighting it with some of their fancy lawyers.” Greenie-beans is what Daddy calls the most rabid environmentalists. He shook his head, amazed at the whole thing. “We ranchers are lookin’ pretty good to the greenie-beans these days. At least they can’t accuse us of killing oaks.”
“That explains a comment Cappy made to me and Gabe about
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