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“Miles, you’re hydrated enough.”
Miles gave his friend Myrtle a steady look. “Dehydration can be very serious. And we’re about to attend a wine tasting.”
“You must have drunk a gallon of water. You’ll be in the restroom the whole tasting, at this rate. Besides, the winery will have tiny little glasses for us to drink from. It won’t be enough to dehydrate a flea.”
“Regardless, I want to be prepared. I’m also bringing a stainless-steel water bottle. I recommend you do the same.”
“Phooey on that. I’ve had a full glass of water and that will be plenty, I’m sure.”
Miles said, “I’d like to go over the driving arrangements.”
“Again? I thought we went over this.”
“Yes, but I like to be absolutely sure of a plan when there’s drinking involved,” said Miles, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Myrtle sighed. “As I said the other day, I’m not much of a tippler, so I’ll be the one driving back home. Elaine is driving us there. That way, you and Elaine can drink as much as you like, and I’ll have a small sip of wine and drive us safely home.”
Miles carefully avoided mentioning the fact that the ride home was sure to be a slow one, at least. Myrtle’s speed of choice was thirty miles an hour, and that’s if she was in a hurry. Instead, he said, “I’m still not very sure about drinking at eleven a.m. I don’t think I’ve ever had a drink before noon in my life.”
“Not even a bloody Mary? Or a mimosa?”
“Have you?” asked Miles.
“No. But then, we’ve already established that I’m not much of a tippler. However, I think you should live a little. Remember, we’re doing this for Elaine. She’s absolutely thrilled about going to this winery.” Elaine was Myrtle’s daughter-in-law. She and Red, Myrtle’s son, lived across the street from her with her grandson, Jack.
Miles said, “Right. The new wine tasting hobby. At least that shouldn’t result in any unwanted arts or crafts being foisted on us.”
“Precisely. And it’s a hobby she can engage in by herself, which is lovely. All she has to do is keep a variety of different wines in the house. It’s finally a hobby that Red can stand behind, too.”
“And Jack is coming with us to the tasting?” asked Miles. “Should we be packing up the trucks and blocks from the toy box in your closet?”
“No, Jack has a playdate with a preschool friend of his. The mom is paying Elaine back for watching her son a week ago. Besides, we won’t be gone all day. Preschool playdates are only for a couple of hours at the most. Otherwise, chaos reigns.” Myrtle glanced around her house, making a face. “Sort of like my home right now.”
Miles’s gaze lit on the dusty tables, the dust bunnies huddled against the baseboards, and the kitchen floor, which was crying out to be mopped. “Puddin problems again?” Puddin was Myrtle’s lackadaisical housekeeper.
“Puddin is a problem,” muttered Myrtle. “I haven’t been able to lure her here for weeks.
“What about Dusty?” Dusty was Myrtle’s yardman and married to Puddin. The two of them were a package deal. Unfortunately, the package was often tricky to get delivered.
“Both members of the undynamic duo appear to be screening their calls.” Myrtle gritted her teeth, then regarded Miles. He was taking another large gulp from his water. “Why don’t you call Puddin?”
“I can’t think what that will accomplish.”
Myrtle said, “Puddin will answer if you call. Then I can grab your phone and get her over here. The mess is driving me insane.”
Miles sighed, pulled out his phone, and located Puddin’s contact information. He called her from time to time when his own housekeeper couldn’t make it. To Myrtle’s frustration, Puddin always did an amazing job cleaning Miles’s house. It was all quite unfair.
Puddin answered right away. “Mr. Miles?”
Myrtle jerked the phone out of his hand. “It’s Myrtle Clover, Puddin.”
Puddin snarled, “You tricked me.”
“Deservedly. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you or Dusty for weeks. My house and yard are in shambles.”
“You should learn to pick up after yourself,” said Puddin in a self-righteous voice.
Myrtle gritted her teeth. “You know very well that clutter isn’t the problem. It’s dust and grime. Which is exactly what I need your help with. Now come on over here and do your job. Dusty too.”
“You’re not the boss of us!”
Myrtle said, “It’s completely obvious that no one is the boss of you, including you. The two of you have no self-discipline whatsoever. I’ve got an event to attend this morning, but when I come back, I want the house cleaned and the grass mowed. I’m going to leave a helpful list to ensure that all the things are taken care of. You have a key.”
“Don’t know where it is,” growled Puddin.
“You’d better find it and come over here. I don’t want a key to my house just floating around out there.”
Puddin said sullenly, “Usually you keep them things under one of yer gnomes.”
“Well, last time I stupidly handed it to you instead. And none of my gnomes are in the yard, currently.”
Puddin snorted. “Red’s behaving hisself?”
“Somewhat.”
Miles smiled. He was sure that, knowing Red, an infraction was forthcoming.
“Now locate the key and come over,” said Myrtle in a peremptory tone. She hung up the phone.
Miles only had the time to drink a couple more sips of water and refill his water bottle when Elaine tapped on Myrtle’s door. Her eyes were shining. “Ready for a fun adventure?”
Myrtle wasn’t at all sure there was anything at all adventurous about drinking. The few times in her life that she’d overindulged, she found herself in an unhappy adventure in the ladies’ room. But she saw how excited Elaine was about the wine tasting and said in her most convincing voice, “So ready! Aren’t you ready, Miles?”
Miles nodded his head. He said, “I understand you’re driving there and Myrtle is driving back.”
“How tiresome of you, Miles!” said Myrtle. “I just confirmed the plan with you a minute ago.”
Elaine beamed at Miles. “It’s always a good idea to make sure. Yes, you and I won’t be driving home, so we can really indulge at the tasting. I’m planning to try the entire flight of wines, then have a glass of my favorite. But I’ll likely be spitting out a lot of the wine.”
“You think it’ll be bad?” Miles looked concerned.
Elaine smiled at him. “No, I mean that I’ll try to mimic real wine tasters. They smell the wine, look at how the wine spins in the glass, then they swish the wine in their mouths and spit it out. They don’t consume much alcohol that way.”
They walked out to Elaine’s minivan as Elaine chatted happily about the wine tasting. Myrtle was glad to see that Elaine had apparently vacuumed out the vehicle and there were no Cheerios in sight. Miles sat in the back, carefully strapping himself in with the seatbelt.
“North Carolina wines have really been winning some awards lately,” said Elaine in a cheerful voice. She talked about muscadine wines and wineries that sourced their grapes elsewhere, but concocted delicious beverages from them.
Myrtle thought rather uncharitably that Elaine was once again inflicting her hobby on them. But then again, as Miles had deftly pointed out, this particular hobby wasn’t as onerous as many of the others. And she so rarely spent time with her daughter-in-law without Jack there. Myrtle adored Jack and was certain he was gifted. But Elaine was always very distracted when Jack was near her. Her conversations around Jack were disjointed, abbreviated, confusing, or a stream of consciousness, depending on the day. Her monologue about the North Carolina wine industry was perhaps the most coherent thing she’d heard Elaine say in a while.
Myrtle said, “And remind me again about this winery. You had a connection there, is that right?”
“Exactly. The owner, Isabella Montague, is a friend of mine and invited me to come out. The winery has just recently opened, and this is an event to generate interest and buzz. It’s going to be a beautiful morning.”
Miles cleared his throat from the back of the minivan. “We’ll be indoors, I’m guessing?” There was a hopeful tone to his voice. It was mid-October, a lovely time to be outside . . . for brief intervals. There was also a robust wind, which was tossing around some leaves that had fallen from the trees. Having spent a lot of time around Miles, Myrtle knew he was worried that he hadn’t put on enough warm clothing. With the slightest encouragement from the meteorologists, Miles would sling a scarf around his neck, a woolen hat on his head, and gloves on his hands.
“Oh, I think so, don’t you? Unless there’s absolutely no room at all inside. Isabella said something about firepits. That might be fun,” said Elaine.
Myrtle very much doubted a firepit would be fun. She had the terrible feeling it might entail sitting on a backless bench of some sort. Her back was generally cooperative unless Myrtle asked too much of it.
Before long, they reached the winery. The outside was quite impressive. It looked as if someone had money and that money had lovingly gone into creating the business. The exterior was made of weathered wood and stone, blending seamlessly with the vineyard surrounding it. The main entrance boasted a large wooden door with wrought-iron details. There was a wrap-around porch supported by wooden columns and some inviting-looking rocking chairs.
“Wow, this is pretty upscale,” said Elaine as she parked the minivan. “I had no idea it was such a big operation. I thought it was just a small tasting room with an acre of muscadines. This looks like a ski lodge in Aspen or something.”
The inside was just as impressive. There was a massive stone fireplace surrounded by cozy armchairs. The walls were adorned with photos showing the winemaking process. The ceilings had exposed wooden beams, and there were enormous picture windows providing views of the vineyard.
“Very nice,” said Myrtle. She was eyeing the armchairs in front of the fireplace. They were currently occupied, but she hoped she could take over as soon as the guests placed another drink order or got up to use the restroom.
There were more people attending the tasting than Myrtle had expected. Miles was apparently thinking the same thing. There must have been thirty or more people there. “I had no idea the Bradley area contained so many early drinkers,” he murmured.
“Well, we’re joining them today,” said Myrtle with a glare. “For Elaine’s sake.”
Elaine was looking around, trying to find her friend. She returned to them saying, “Isabella has got to be swamped right now. I’ll catch up with her when she has time. In the meantime, let’s get started. I’ll order our flights.”
Myrtle wasn’t completely sure of the terminology, although she’d now heard the word “flight” twice and was sure Elaine wasn’t planning on airplane rides anytime soon. Her confusion cleared when Elaine returned from the bar carrying two boards with small glasses of wine nestled into holes cut into the wood.
“Sure we don’t need a third?” asked Elaine.
“No, no,” said Myrtle. “I’ll have a small sip from one or two of the wines on Miles’s.”
Miles looked rather unhappy to hear this news.
“For heaven’s sake, Miles. I’m completely germ free.”
“Lots of people think they’re germ free,” said Miles gloomily. “But they’re actually infectious and don’t start having symptoms until later.”
Elaine said, “Myrtle, you can share mine.”
“No, dear, it’s your tasting. Tell you what—how about if I just stay completely sober and enjoy the ambiance? I’ll experience the tasting through your perceptions of the wines, Elaine.” Myrtle turned and looked grimly at the people hogging the armchairs. “But I’m going to insist on those chairs.”
Fortunately, one of the people rose to get a glass of wine while another in the party left for the restroom. The third was too intent on his phone to object when they sat in the three armchairs. By the time the others returned, the last remaining member of their party sheepishly left them to it.
There was a sizeable coffee table in front of the grouping of chairs. It was perfect for resting the flights on. Elaine was enthusiastically trying the wines, spitting them out in some sort of spittoon thing, then jotting down notes in a small notebook she’d brought with her. Miles was more cautiously sipping each, taking several minutes to finish a single sample.
“Which one is the winner for you, Elaine?” asked Miles politely. He was still carefully swilling the second glass of the flight.
“Gosh, that’s a tough one. I’d say it’s between the rosé blend or the sparkling.” Then Elaine embarked on a list of technical wine-judging-type phrases that quickly lost Miles and Myrtle’s attention.
Elaine finally wrapped it up with, “But I think I want my full glass to be that vanilla mead. That was amazing.”
Myrtle said, “Better go grab it while the bartender is free, my dear. I’ll guard your seat.” And indeed, Myrtle’s face so quickly assumed a ferocious expression that no one even thought about venturing near.
Elaine came back beaming, the glass of mead in her hands. “I saw Isabella up there. She’s the one with the pretty chestnut-colored hair.”
Myrtle and Miles dutifully looked over to find Isabella. The young woman, dressed in a burgundy knee-length dress with leather boots, gave them a wave from across the room. Then she was whisked away by a customer.
Elaine said, “She’s so excited by the turnout. I don’t blame her. There are tons more people here than I thought there would be.”
Elaine happily chatted about Isabella and other friends, the adorable things preschooler Jack was doing these days, and her plans on getting Red to Serenity Springs by hook or by crook. She only needed to convert Red from beer to wine.
After Elaine finished her wine, she said, “I’m going to stop by the gift shop for a minute, if that’s okay with the two of you?”
Miles, who still had two tiny wine tastings to do, nodded drowsily. It looked as if he might drift off to sleep in front of the fireplace before he could finish his flight. Myrtle said, “Have fun, Elaine. I’ll just rest my bones for a few minutes.”
Miles did indeed catnap, his chin falling to his chest. Myrtle contented herself with looking around the large tasting room while Elaine shopped. It wasn’t long before Elaine returned with a smile and a shopping bag. Miles woke with a start, looking guilty at his sudden nap.
“I saw this in the gift shop and couldn’t resist,” said Elaine. “It’s a thank you, Myrtle, for helping with Jack all the time.”
“A present?” Myrtle perked up. She quickly opened the bag and pulled out a particularly fetching gnome. She crooned, “Look at him! What a little darling.”
The darling gnome was cheerful and rotund. His small hat had tiny grapes and a grapevine pattern on it. He sported a tunic with wine glasses and grape clusters painted on, and a mischievous smile. Naturally, he was holding a wine glass.
“Won’t Red be annoyed you gave him to me?” asked Myrtle, cradling the gnome.
“That’s what makes this such perfect timing! He won’t have to know.”
Myrtle gave a pleased smile. “Indeed, he won’t. And the timing is even better than you thought. I was going to give one of my old gnomes as a donation to Greener Pastures Retirement Home. I felt the grounds there could use a touch of whimsy. This little guy will fill the gap in my collection perfectly. Thank you, Elaine.” She carefully put the gnome back in the shopping bag.
Elaine glanced across the room and sighed. “I really don’t want to leave without introducing you both to Isabella.”
It seemed to be an impossible task. The Serenity Springs owner was clearly inundated with customers and friends, all vying for her attention. She wanted to please Elaine, but she had also secretly been hoping to get back home shortly to watch the tape of her soap opera, Tomorrow’s Promise. Plus, Miles appeared to be falling asleep again. Myrtle could understand—it was becoming rather stuffy in the tasting room between the fire, her coat, and the number of people inside.
“How about if we kill time for a few minutes outside? I wouldn’t mind a breath of cool air, and it would be nice to see the vineyard closer up.”
Elaine brightened at the suggestion. “Great idea. I’d like to see the vineyard, too. What about Miles, though?”
Miles was now puffing out tiny snores from his pursed lips.
“I think we should leave Miles in here. He’s not fond of brisk wind, and I see branches moving out there.”
Elaine looked uncertain. “Won’t he be alarmed if he wakes up and we’re not anywhere around?”
“I’m sure he’ll know we haven’t forgotten him,” said Myrtle. Then she considered this further since Elaine continued making the doubtful face. “I’ll leave a note for him.” She pulled a small notepad out of her large purse, fishing out a pen from the depths of the bag. Then she scribbled Gone outside to get air on a piece of paper that she placed in Miles’s lap. “There,” she said in satisfaction. “Now he’ll be just fine.”
So she and Elaine headed out the back door of the tasting room onto the veranda. There were indeed firepits. Fortunately, they were flanked by chairs with actual backs on them, instead of the backless benches Myrtle had feared. There were also several people outside, chatting and drinking wine. One man looked the mirror image of Miles and was dozing, body slumped in front of the firepit.
Myrtle and Elaine took a short stroll, Myrtle leaning heavily on her cane on the uneven ground among the vines. The vines’ leaves were yellow, an apparent preface to losing them for the winter.
After a few minutes of walking and with no sign yet of Miles, Myrtle said, “Want to sit by the firepit for a few minutes? Perhaps people will begin leaving to get lunch and we’ll have a chance to meet your friend.”
They settled themselves in front of the fire. Myrtle kept looking curiously over at the sleeping man across from her. He had a spiky Van Dyke beard and equally spiky gray hair, perhaps from some sort of gel. But she couldn’t see his face. And she was thinking he was slumped at a most peculiar angle for someone who was sleeping. Surely someone would wake up if they were in such an uncomfortable position.
Elaine followed Myrtle’s gaze. She gave Myrtle a wry look. “Probably had too much to drink.”
Myrtle frowned. “I think I know that man.”
“Do you?”
“Gerald Greystone,” said Myrtle, frowning deeper now. “Winemaker and wine critic.”
Elaine looked more carefully at the man. “Well, those seem like suitable occupations for him. He appears to enjoy wine quite a bit.”
Myrtle leaned over to call to the man. “Gerald. Gerald Greystone!”
There was no response. A man from a nearby group gave Myrtle an amused look.
Myrtle got up from her chair and walked across to the man. She put her hand out and shook his shoulder.
When Gerald slumped even further, it was clear that he was dead.