Free How to Dine on Killer Wine: A Party-Planning Mystery by Penny Warner

Mom.” I took her back into her room, wiped off the mess with a tissue, and found a purple eye-shadow pencil in her cosmetic bag. Gently I applied a thin swipe to her lids, then smoothed it in with my fingertip. I wanted to think she’d just made a simple mistake, but I sensed it was another sign of her worsening Alzheimer’s disease. Being in a new place had upset her sometimes fragile connection to reality. Maybe bringing her here hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
    “There. All better,” I said, wiping the color from my finger with a tissue. “You look lovely.”
    “Thank you, Presley. So do you.”
    “Well, shall we go?” I offered her my arm and she took it like a grande dame. Leading her out of her room, I paused momentarily at my room to tell Brad we were heading out, but he’d apparently already left. When we reached the festively decorated garden, lit up with sparkling lights and glowing swags of fake grapevines, Mom sucked in a breath of air at the sight, which I took as her approval.
    I checked my Mickey Mouse watch: six forty-five. Almost party time.
    When the first guests arrived around seven, spilling into the garden area in their cocktail finery, everything looked perfect. The white tablecloths made the dark red wines pop with color. The sparkling glasses beckoned, ready to be swirled with wine. And the decorations—swagged grapevines, purple and green balloons, and large goblets sporting purple votive candles—all added to the mellow and intoxicating ambiance.
    A few minutes later the Briens and Madeiras arrivedvia golf carts from their neighboring wineries and were soon huddled together over glasses of the Purple Grape’s new merlot. I ducked into the kitchen to check on the
amuse-bouches
, then returned to find that Kyle Bennett, the attorney, had arrived and was chatting flirtatiously with an attractive blond woman. Larry had also arrived and was charming my mother, who seemed to be laughing at everything he said.
    My staff was in place, as was Rob’s. Javier had cleaned up nicely in his black suit and western string tie and stood behind one of the serving tables, pouring wine. Allison manned another table strewn with my signature corkscrews and cheese knives, smiling and talking with the guests as she filled their glasses. Rob and Marie stood together behind the third table, he in a dark tieless suit and black loafers, she in an ankle-length plum gown, with black pearls and matching plum Kate Spade flats. Tall, maybe five-eight or nine, Marie would have towered over her five-ten-ish husband if she’d worn heels, I realized. They were shaking hands with guests and talking animatedly about the virtues of their latest harvest.
    There was no sign of JoAnne Douglas. So far, so good.
    While Duncan filled the air with Dean Martin’s velvety “Return to Me,” Gina appeared with the first tray of edible masterpieces. The crowd grew and the sound of conversation and laughter increased. Soon everyone was sipping wine, nibbling appetizers, and talking.
    “Nice job, Ms. Parker,” came a voice from behind me. I turned to see Kyle Bennett wearing a smart suit and shiny Ferragamos and holding a glass of the PurpleGrape’s merlot. “I feel like I’m in the Garden of Eden, practically swimming in a giant glass of wine. Are you available for other parties here in Napa? My clients are always looking for a good event planner.”
    Apparently he knew my name already. “Hello, Mr. Bennett. Glad you’re having a good time. Sure, feel free to pass my name along to your clients.”
    “Perhaps we could talk about the specifics over dinner sometime?” He gazed at me with glassy eyes. Drunk already? And hitting on me?
    “Um, sure,” I said, glancing around for Brad. Not seeing him, I took a sip of my own wine, then said, “Or just e-mail me. I do most of my business online these days, aside from the actual party.”
    “How about tomorrow night? Are you free?”
    Oh my God. Did this guy not get it?