Chapter 2
The St. Pierre sisters tumbled into the Napa County jail, stopping short at the transparent barrier in front of the reception desk. Char vaguely recalled the floor plan from her last visit. From a holding cell in the rear, they could hear Papa bellowing in his unmistakable Franglais.
“I am American citizen! I have gun license! Wait until my daughter gets here. She is lawyer! I will sue your—”
Papa had always had a flair for the dramatic.
Following an interminable wait during which the incessant click of her older sister’s pacing echoed off the tile walls, they were let into a processing area and a young officer holding a clipboard came out to meet them.
“Which one of you is”—he raised the clipboard to eye level and squinted—“Sauvignon?” he said with the audible equivalent of an eye roll.
This guy must be new to the force. The St. Pierres weren’t accustomed to going many places in the valley without being recognized.
Savvy stepped forward. “I am.”
Thank heavens Savvy was an attorney. Well, almost. She’d recently graduated law school but had yet to take the bar.
“And these are my sisters, Chardonnay and Merlot.”
The cop stared.
Was it their fault Papa had named his daughters for grape varietals?
He started to smile, furrowed his brow, and then hitched up his pants with his free hand.
With a half chuckle, he said, “Cheese-oh-man. You can’t make this stuff up. Wait till I tell the folks back in Ohio.”
“What are the charges, officer?” demanded Savvy—as usual, the designated spokesman. The three women were equally anxious to get past this latest ordeal.
“Well now, let’s see here.” The cop ticked off the items on his list with maddening slowness. “Discharging a firearm within one hundred yards of a residence. Resisting arrest. Threatening an endangered species was dropped. He’s lucky. That would’ve meant federal charges.”
He let the clipboard drop to his side and rocked back on his heels, analyzing the women one by one. His holier-than-thou gaze held a touch of salaciousness. Despite her impatience, Char couldn’t help but imagine how they appeared from his perspective.
There was Savvy, whose earlobes sparkled with the full carat diamond studs the girls had received for their sixteenth birthdays. As usual, she wore her auburn hair scraped back into a low, loose knot to show them off. She was dressed tastefully in black from head to toe, as if she’d had a premonition when she got up this morning that she’d be downtown at the police station later that afternoon.
Meri’s rich mahogany locks had some new lavender streaks that matched both her T-shirt and sky-high suede wedges. The sound of gunfire must have torn her away from her studio in a state of panic. She hadn’t changed out of her paint-flecked shirt.
Last, the cop’s gaze scraped over Char’s racer back and short shorts, coming to rest on her bare legs. Why did she suddenly feel naked? Dirty?
“Sarge says this isn’t the first time your old man’s been caught shooting at poachers in his koi pond.”
Savvy ignored that comment in the interest of expediency.
The policeman disappeared, and after another delay, returned, leading their father. Papa was looking disheveled but still chic in his Italian loafers.
“You can go now, Mr. St. Pierre, until your court date. Meantime, no more shooting at bald eagles. They’ve recently been taken off the endangered list in California, but you’ll find some people around here are fond of them.”
Amid a fresh tirade of muttered curses, Char took Papa’s elbow, Meri guarded his other flank, and Savvy went ahead.
Char scanned the parking lot.
“Clear,” she said, and the four stepped out into the bright sunshine, making a beeline for Char’s Mercedes.
But they’d only gone a dozen steps when a guy wielding a long-lensed camera appeared from out of nowhere.
“Xavier! Over here!” he yelled.
“Dégage! Get out of here!” Papa lashed out.
“Char! Meri!” the stranger cried out. “What’d he do this time?”
The women averted their eyes and picked up the pace.
“Papa and I will ride with Char,” called Savvy to Meri, just before they ducked into the car, taking refuge behind tinted windows.
“Damn police scanners,” said Savvy as Char pulled out of the lot. “God’s gift to the paparazzi.”
Fifteen minutes later, Char pulled into the long white gravel drive of Domaine St. Pierre, just in time for everyone to dress for Papa’s big party. It was the first fete of the summer, and Char had been waiting for this particular summer for five long years. Now it was here. Tonight was the night she would give her hometown a taste of a brand-new Chardonnay.