Free Kiss Me Hello by L. K. Rigel Page B

the crowd, and when she spotted Sara her face lit up. She waved and charged toward their table, leaving Poole to follow. Sara was as unhappy to see Poole as Bonnie. She still felt encroached upon by all the Poole Haven Wines equipment in the barn.
    Not to mention, she wasn’t so sure either one was entirely innocent regarding Aunt Amelia’s death. Ludicrous, probably. But now that the idea had worked its way into Sara’s brain, there it was.
    “Hi, Peekie,” Bonnie said. “Sara, how are you doing?” She was all sweetness and concern. “Gracien and I were just talking about Amelia.”
    “I’m very sorry for your loss,” Poole said. He did seem embarrassed to be there.
    “Thank you, Mr. Poole,” Sara said.
    “Excuse us for intruding.” He turned to go.
    Bonnie stayed right where she was. She stared at Bram like she’d just seen her first banana split. “Sara, who’s your gorgeous friend?”
    For the first time ever Bram was speechless, clearly gobsmacked by Bonnie’s flat-out stunning looks. It should be irritating, but the expression on his face was priceless. Sara even felt a little sorry for him. First the blow of Peekie’s rejection, and now the force of nature that was Bonnie Norquist. Good. Let him suffer .
    Bonnie dragged an empty chair over between Bram and Peekie. Sara nodded encouragement to Mr. Poole, and he sat down between Peekie and her.
    Bram still looked gobsmacked by Bonnie, but he recovered his ability to speak. “We’re waiting for a table in the dining room,” he said. “Why don’t you two join us when we go in?”
    “We don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” Poole said quietly. “I shouldn’t have let Bonnie drag me in here.”
    “Please don’t apologize, Mr. Poole,” Sara said. “It helps to talk with people who knew her better than I did. It really does make me feel better.”
    “Then let me assure you Amelia was a wonderful person.”
    “That’s all set then,” Bonnie said happily.
    At dinner Poole insisted on ordering the wine. With the salad they had Gewürztraminer. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering wines made from Turtledove Hill grapes,” he said.
    “I’ve always wondered what this would taste like,” Sara said. “I’ve been afraid to order it because I don’t know how to say it.”
    “That’s easy,” Bram said. “Geh-VERTS-trah-meen-er. Just like it’s spelled.”
    Everyone laughed, and Sara practiced saying Gewürztraminer. Luckily, pinot noir came with the main course. “I can pronounce this,” she said. “And I pronounce it wonderful.”
    Mr. Poole wasn’t an expressive person, but Sara’s enjoyment of the wines obviously pleased him. “The Blue Pelican carries all Poole Haven’s wines, the Gewürztraminer and pinot and our chardonnay, which are all excellent. This is a special reserve, not on the menu. They keep it for special guests.” He lifted his glass. “To Amelia.”
    “Amelia.” Everyone joined the toast.
    “Thank you, Mr. Poole.” Sara was truly touched. He was well-spoken and genial, so unlike her brittle and judging father.
    “Remember,” he said. “I asked you to call me Gracien.”
    “Gracien then,” Sara said. “And again, thank you.” Maybe she’d been too quick to judge, herself.
    The restaurant was on the ocean side of the building, and their table was near a corner pop-out window. An antique doll was propped up on a pillow in the window seat as if it was looking outside. Sara thought of the ghost stories she’d heard that morning, and of her own ghostly encounter on the stairs.
    The arms that saved her from falling were solid, real. She could still see the man’s dark eyes and hear his strong voice. Not a hallucination, no matter how much she wanted it to be. It was the same man she saw in the hall years ago. Aunt Amelia’s lover. But he wasn’t a ghost then. He spoke to her. Touched her. Fourteen years ago. Today on the stairs, he was the same age. He wore he same clothes.
    Clothes like the ones