On that somber note, Scott and I headed back to the main building.
“That sure wasn’t how I imagined the meeting would end,” I said.
Scott nodded. “I knew about the issues because I handled the surveillance equipment installation.”
We entered the room where the goats had frolicked. I spied Phil, full name Philopoimen Xanthis, wine expert extraordinaire, sitting at a table with a young redheaded man. I wondered if he had been teased like I had growing up with red hair. Scott and I joined them.
“Kelly and Scott, so good to see you both. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Eric Stapleton,” Phil said.
He introduced us and then said, “We’re preparing a wine tasting class for Michael’s event. Please join us and sample some wine.”
“I’ll have to pass,” Scott said. “But thanks for the invitation. I have to meet with one of the new veterans about his cabin.”
He bid us farewell and left. Phil pulled a chair out for me, and I sat next to him. He provided the wine for many of the inns in the area, including mine, and stayed at Redwood Cove Bed and Breakfast when he was in town.
Small vials covered the table, along with several bottles of wine and numerous glasses. I picked up one of the little jars labeled jasmine.
Eric smiled. “Take the top off, sniff, and see what you think.”
I did as he suggested and was rewarded with the flower’s sweet scent.
Phil pushed several vials in my direction. “We will use these during the class to teach people what smells they can detect in a variety of wines. Everyone’s sense of taste and smell is different, and these scents help people learn that.”
“Fascinating.” I proceeded to check out several other jars.
“These are Eric’s,” Phil said. “He teaches classes on a regular basis. We’re working together on this one.”
I put one labeled eucalyptus back on the table after enjoying its refreshing scent, which reminded me of mint with a hint of honey. “Eric, I created themed rooms at the inn, and one of them involves wine tasting opportunities in the area. The scents along with directions would make a delightful addition to the Wine Room. Could I hire you to put that together for me?”
“Sure. It sounds like fun. I won’t be able to do it for a while, though. I’m in charge of choosing vendors for an upcoming fundraiser for a local hospital. I’m also acting as a consultant for the sale of the Sagatini Winery.”
I took out a business card and handed it to him. “I look forward to hearing from you.”
Phil shook his head. “I hate to see another family-owned business disappear.”
I hadn’t been in the area long and wasn’t familiar with this winery, but I’d heard Phil bemoan the loss of other small wineries.
“Carlo’s ready to retire and his son, Lorenzo, doesn’t want to carry on. It’s a tough business, and if you don’t love it, it’s not the place to be.” Eric tightened the lids on his jars. “Thanks for offering to look over the paperwork I’ve put together. I appreciate having a knowledgeable wine person examine the data to see if I missed anything.”
“Happy to help,” Phil said. “What’s Lorenzo going to do?”
Eric started to gather his vials and put them in a box. “He and some of his friends have put together a real estate venture.”
Phil helped him with the jars. “I’m guessing Carlo is disappointed.”
“That’s my guess as well. But…Lorenzo is ready for a change. I can understand that.” He turned to me. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Jackson.”
“Please call me Kelly. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Just then a young woman came in carrying a full grocery bag with celery stalks and a narrow baguette sticking out of the top. “Hi! I’m Cassie MacGregor,” she announced with a wide smile. “I was pointed in this direction to use the kitchen.”
Her cropped hair was as black as Daniel’s, with his Native American lineage, but the creamy white complexion spoke of a different heritage. Irish I would guess. Dark red lipstick emphasized her light skin.
I stood. “I’ll show you where it is.”
Suddenly the overloaded bag split and groceries spilled to the floor. Cans rolled under couches and chairs. Miraculously, a quart of milk stayed intact. We all began gathering the items.
“I’ll get some bags from the kitchen,” I said
I returned a few moments later. Cassie and Eric reached for the baguette at the same time, grabbing it at each end.
They laughed and Cassie said, “You can have it. You win.”
At that moment, a man with the same color hair as Cassie’s, along with a full beard, came in. He scowled at Eric, came over to where they were, and knelt down. I put the bags next to the food. He grabbed one and began shoving items into it.
The smile left Cassie’s face. “This is my husband, Ian.”
“Howdy.” He didn’t look up from what he was doing.
We stood when all the food had been picked up.
Before I could make introductions, Ian said, “Cas, where’s the kitchen?”
I pointed to the door behind me. “I was about to show her when the bag broke.”
Ian grabbed the other bags, picked up the one he’d filled, and walked toward the kitchen.
Cassie’s lips trembled, and I thought she was about to cry.
Wanting to break the tense moment, I put out my hand. “I’m Kelly Jackson, manager of Redwood Cove Bed and Breakfast. Nice to meet you.”
Cassie shook my hand, and a hint of a smile appeared.
Phil put out his hand as well. “I’m Phil Xanthis and this is my friend Eric Stapleton.”
By the time Cassie had shaken Phil’s hand and Eric’s, her composure had returned.
“Nice to meet you all,” she said. “Will you all be attending the events?”
We nodded.
“Terrific. I’ll see you around then. Thanks for your help.” She smiled, the trembling gone. “Now it’s time for me to get to work.”
She left, and Phil and I helped Eric finish packing his supplies.
“I’ll take these to the barn where we’ll be holding the class.” He turned to me. “I’ll be in touch.” Then he left.
Phil picked up his notebook. “I have some deliveries to make then I’ll be back at the inn. I have a new wine I’d like you to try.”
“Okay, but as you know, I trust you to make the decisions. You’re the expert.”
“I appreciate your trust, Kelly. However, I think it’s important to continue to hone your skills. Many people come here because of the wine produced in this region. Being able to discuss wine with your guests would be helpful.”
“I completely agree. You’ve already taught me a lot.” I smiled at him. “See you in a bit.”
He whistled a tune as he left, did a quick twirl, and gave me a wave goodbye. Phil loved Greek dancing and occasionally delighted the locals by performing on the spur of the moment when a musical group played one of his favorite tunes.
I went to the rocking chair and straightened the cashmere throw that had provided the tug of war between me and the goat, then headed for the kitchen to get some treats for the llamas. I reached out to grab the door handle then stopped.
“I saw the way you were looking at him. You were flirting,” Ian’s angry voice boomed.
“No, I wasn’t.” Cassie’s voice sounded ready to break. “Ian, your jealousy is out of hand.” Her voice had gone up a notch, taking on a shrill quality.
I turned to go. The llamas would have to do without this time. I left the building and walked to my Jeep.
As I drove back to the inn, I thought about what was ahead for the rest of the day. I had read the guests’ forms as I soon as I received them. Julie Simmons, one of the chefs, arrived today with her service dog, Rex, a seizure alert dog.
I had decided to put her in the Cook’s Room. Decorating it had been fun. I received a lot of help from the Silver Sentinels, a crime-solving group of seniors I worked with from time to time. They scoured thrift shops and garage sales, searching for items to add to the themed décor.
The room now had handmade potholders from Portugal in the shape of owls, an impressive collection of trivets from all over the world, and some antique cookie cutters. And, of course, lots of cookbooks. I had put up a notecard that said we’d be happy to run off twenty recipes at no charge.
I turned off the road and into the inn’s driveway. I never tired of admiring the vines of colorful flowers that wound their way up the walls of the white building. Built in the eighteen nineties, the eaves on the home had the intricate gingerbread trim that was so popular in that era.
I parked in back and noticed a Subaru station wagon with an Oregon license plate in the visitors’ parking area with a young woman inside. As I closed the door of my Jeep, she got out and walked over, followed by a cattle dog wearing a blue service vest. His coloring reminded me of a roan horse with his red and white hairs intermingling. Most of his face was a solid rusty red color.
The woman had large, deep brown eyes and long brown hair with blond highlights. She smiled, revealing even rows of white teeth a model would envy.
“Hi. I’m Julie Simmons.” She looked down at her companion. “And this is my dog, Rex.”
Rex wagged his tail but stayed at Julie’s side.
“I’m Kelly Jackson, the manager of the inn. I love dogs. May I pet him?”
“Sure.”
I petted his head. “I grew up on a Wyoming ranch. We always had several dogs, and one looked a lot like Rex.” I straightened up. “Come on inside, and we’ll get you registered.”
“Good news! I know I’m really early. That’s why I was staying in the car. I didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“If the room’s ready, we’re happy to check you in now.”
I led her up the back steps and into the main work area, where the kitchen was located. I knew she’d been assigned ours for her cooking. A black granite counter separated it from the rest of the room and served as a casual eating area. The large wooden table to the left provided a dining area for more formal occasions and a worktable when necessary.
Helen, an inn employee, was working at the sink and turned as we entered. Her brown hair had slight streaks of gray at the temples.
“Hi, Helen, this is Julie Simmons.” I turned to Julie. “I’d like you to meet Helen Rogers, amazing baker and highly organized, efficient assistant.”
Helen blushed at the compliments. “Thanks, Kelly, you’re sweet.”
“Happy to meet you,” Julie said. “I hope we have time to talk cooking. Baking isn’t my strongest area, and I’m sure there’s a lot I can learn from you.”
“I’d love to chat with you. I know you’re a chef, and I’m sure I can learn a lot from you as well.”
I inclined my head toward the front of the inn. “Follow me, and we’ll get you signed in.”
“Your room is ready,” Helen said. “We put a dog bed and bowls in there as well.”
We proceeded to the front of the inn, passing the parlor as we went. I told Julie about the wine and cheese from four to seven. The flames from the burning logs in the fireplace danced lazily from side to side. I pointed out the local information on the coffee table.
Julie filled out the guest sheet. “I’d like to talk with you about my seizures so you know what to do if I have one. Rex usually alerts me well enough in advance that I have time to prepare myself. I haven’t had one for a long time. That’s why I’m allowed to drive.”
“How does Rex alert you?”
“He paws my knee.” Julie reached down and scratched him behind his right ear. “What I need when I have a seizure is a safe place to lie down on my side. Because my arms and legs thrash, it’s important that hard or sharp objects aren’t nearby.”
The beautiful young woman spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. It was clear she accepted that seizures were a part of her life and did what she needed to do to deal with them.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said. “I’ll pass it on to the other employees.”
“I appreciate it.” Julie pulled a manila envelope out of her purse. She frowned and paused. “My family is in Bend, Oregon, where I work. Here’s contact information for them. Kelly, would you be willing to look after Rex if something happened to me until they could come and get him?”
“Of course.”
The frown disappeared. “Thank you so much. I don’t expect to have any problems, but I like to cover my bases, and I’d hate to have him put in a kennel or the pound.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
She pulled a piece of paper from the envelope. “This is a letter I created for situations like this.”
Julie picked up a pen from the counter and put my name on a blank line at the top and signed the bottom.
She handed the paper and the envelope to me. “This gives you guardianship over him and has all the instructions you need for feeding him. Copies of his vaccinations and license are in the envelope as well.”
“Thanks. You’re certainly thorough.”
We went back to the kitchen area, and I put Julie’s information on the counter. I’d put it in the safe later. Helen was preparing the cheese platters for the evening appetizers.
Just as I started to point out where equipment was kept in the kitchen, the back door burst open. Tommy, Helen’s son, came running in with his basset hound, Fred, on his heels. I knew it was a minimum day at school because it was all he had talked about at breakfast.
“Mom! Mom!” he shouted.
“Tommy, lower your voice.”
“Sorry.” He shot a quick glance at Julie and me. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, the energy from his voice now channeled into his body. “My project won the science fair. I got first place! First place!”
Helen gave him a big hug. “That’s wonderful, honey.”
Tommy had really turned a corner as far as his life in Redwood Cove was concerned. When I first met him, he had hated it here. He had a touch of Asperger’s, and social skills were a challenge for him. Kids at school tormented him. With the help of Allie, Daniel Steven’s daughter, and friends he’d made in math and science clubs, that had all changed.
“I can’t wait to tell Deputy Stanton. He helped me with it, so he won, too.”
Helen was a widower and lived in a cottage on-site. Deputy Stanton had stepped in to help Tommy with school projects.
Fred padded over to Rex, where he sat at Julie’s side, and they touched noses. Tails began to wag. Fred went into play pose with his front down and his rear up. Rex didn’t do the same.
“My name’s Julie,” she said to Tommy. “And this is Rex. What’s your dog’s name?”
“Fred.” Tommy sat at the counter to eat the snack his mother had put out for him.
“It looks like he wants to play. Rex can only play when I give him permission. We’ll definitely make some time for the two dogs to get together.”
“Fred would like that,” Tommy replied. “He’s always ready to have a good time.”
“May I give him a cookie?” Julie asked.
Tommy nodded enthusiastically. “You bet. He loves treats.”
Julie pulled a blue cloth bag with the emblem of a running dog on its side out of her pocket, removed two cookies, and held them up for us to see. They were heart-shaped and had an “R” in the middle.
“I bake these for Rex. They’re his special treat. I made the mold.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “I’m a chef. What can I say?”
She gave each dog a cookie and said goodbye to Helen and Tommy. I took Julie and Rex to her room.
She tilted her head as she read the title on the door. “Cook’s Room?”
“Right. We have themed rooms at the inn. Helen and I thought you’d enjoy this one.”
Julie oohed and aahed as she made her way around the room. When she got to the cookbooks, she looked at me. “I may never leave this room.”
“I’m glad you like it. Can I help you bring in your luggage?”
“No thanks. I’m traveling light.”
Rex settled on the dog bed, clearly knowing where he belonged.
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” I said.
The rest of the afternoon and evening went smoothly. Phil had me taste the new wine and work on my “enobabble,” as I now knew “wine talk” was called. The term came from combining enology, the study of wine, and babble, to talk in a meaningless way. He explained some people got carried away using descriptors like stalky, racy, and wet river rock.
He invited me to a special wine tasting event he was doing for some local vintners. I agreed, knowing it would further my education and provide an opportunity for me to meet people in the area.
I looked forward to tomorrow with foraging, wine tasting, and visiting chefs on the menu.
* * * *
The next morning, I prepared a breakfast basket to take to the building where Phil stayed. It was a separate unit with four rooms and a common area on the second floor. As I turned to go, I saw Phil’s face in the backdoor window. His skin had a gray pallor to it.
I waved him in. “Phil, are you okay?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Eric’s dead.”