Free One Book in the Grave by Kate Carlisle Page A

London and China and their husbands showed up for the occasion, too, along with half of Dharma. There were a few unfamiliar faces that might’ve belonged to those reviewers from San Francisco I’d heard about. I prayed their meals were excellent. For me, the service was impeccable and the food was phenomenal, and not just because my sister owned the joint.
    I had moments of uneasiness during the meal whenever I remembered that Max was still alive. None of my sisters knew it and I couldn’t tell them. Not yet, anyway. Since there was nothing I could do about it for a while, I tried to relax and enjoy the fun company and the incredible meal.
    Savannah came out later to say hello, and the entire room burst into applause. She wore the traditional white chef’s jacket over checked pants, but instead of the tall white toque on her head, she wore a red beret. It was adorably jaunty, but, yes, she still had a bald head. Somehow it worked for her.
    I couldn’t believe everything I’d eaten was vegetarian. I’d been scared to death that we’d be chewing alfalfa sprouts and raw lentils, but no. I’d ordered an endive, goat cheese, and pear salad with all kinds of yummy little goodies sprinkled on top, followed by an amazing entréeof handmade raviolis stuffed with butternut squash and wild mushrooms, all floating in a creamy herb butter sauce. The pinot noir our waiter recommended went perfectly with everything. And, hallelujah, there was chocolate mint soufflé served with a pot full of whipped cream for dessert.
    By the time the check came, I was forced to admit that my loony, bald-headed sister had become a true artist with food, even if she refused to include red meat in her palette. At least she hadn’t turned her back on chocolate.
    There were no freeways, no shortcuts, no easy way to make the long, circuitous drive west from Sonoma to Point Reyes Station in Marin County. There were only narrow two-lane roads that twisted and wound through rolling hills and mountain passes for more than fifty miles. But since it was a beautiful—if slightly treacherous—drive, and since I was being driven by Derek in his sleek Bentley Continental GT with Gabriel in the backseat—in other words, two of the most handsome men in the northern hemisphere—you wouldn’t hear me complain about it.
    After checking the map and his GPS, Derek decided to drive a few miles north up to Santa Rosa, where we would pick up Highway 101 going south. It might have seemed like we were going out of our way, but the highway was actually faster and we’d make up some time before we had to turn west on Petaluma Point Reyes Road. That’s where we’d start to lose time on those winding mountain roads, but Derek assured us that the Bentley would handle the turns and switchbacks with class and ease.
    “I’ll let you know how that works out from the backseat,” Gabriel said amiably as he squeezed in his six-foot-plus frame. I had offered to sit in the back, but he insisted, so I moved my seat forward to accommodate his long legs, and we hit the road.
    As Derek drove, I filled in some of the blanks in MaxAdams’s history. I told them about Emily and how much I’d liked her, and how much she’d loved the
Beauty and the Beast
book I’d given them.
    I was glad I’d brought the book along with me on this trip so I could show it to Max—if we were able to find him, of course.
    I was still having a hard time believing that Max was alive. And oh, my God,
Emily.
How could he have done this to her and to all of us? How had he managed to keep us in the dark for three long years?
Max, what were you thinking?
    I pulled out my cell phone to double-check my voice mail. But Emily hadn’t returned my phone call. It had been two days already, and I had to wonder why I hadn’t heard back from her. I knew I’d called the right number. Her voice hadn’t changed at all.
    Would the people who lived at the address Guru Bob gave us be willing to lead us to Max? Did I