Jay Gatsby would have loved our “Anything Goes” Valentine’s Day party, which turned out to be more aptly named than I could have imagined. By Saturday evening, the news of Will Baron’s arrest on suspicion of murder in the death of Vivienne Baron and the attempted murder of Faith Eastman had gone around town like wildfire. As a result, everyone headed straight for the bar, still trying to process the news that a cold-blooded killer had lived among us, becoming a liked and trusted member of the community.
I didn’t wear Lucky’s dress. I couldn’t, not after what I knew about the conspiracy of silence to cover up Zara’s murder and that a woman who was my namesake was complicit in it, along with Mac’s grandmother and Quinn’s great-grandfather. It would have seemed like I was somehow condoning it. Dominique, it turned out, had bought two dresses at a vintage clothing store because she couldn’t decide what to wear. The beaded V-neck gold lamé sheath she didn’t choose fit me perfectly and I got compliments all evening on how sensational I looked.
I would read Lucky’s letters to Izzy someday, and as for Lucky’s dress, I could always put it back in the attic in some dusty corner where it might remain for another century. Or maybe I could adopt the Santori-Tomassi solution to getting rid of toxic memories: a bonfire.
We had two surprise guests that evening. Gino Tomassi dropped by first with a large donation for Veronica House.
“I owe both of you,” he said to Quinn and me. “And I pay my debts. After spending time at your vineyard, Lucie, I told Dante that we needed to think about buying land, maybe along the central coast, not the two vineyards in Angwin on Howell Mountain I was looking at. I have a lot of respect for what you two do here.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and gave Quinn’s shoulder a light punch. “Come see me sometime at Bel Paradiso.”
Then he was gone.
The other unexpected guest was Mac, who showed up as the party was winding down. He navigated his way over to Quinn and me through the crowd of friends and neighbors bombarding him with questions and said, “I need to talk to you in private.”
We adjourned to Frankie’s office and locked the door.
“I spent the afternoon with Bobby, answering questions about Will and that woman,” he said. “I still can’t believe I trusted him. And I let his … partner in crime stay in Roxy’s house. I feel responsible for everything that happened. If it hadn’t been for me—”
“You couldn’t have known who he was,” I said. “Nobody knew. He was a first-rate con artist, Mac. He fooled everybody and nearly got away with it, except for that slip the fake Uma made about DNA testing.”
“Her name, by the way, is Wendy Underhill,” Mac said. “The two of them met a few years back when he was on a study abroad program in London. She’s an actress. Vivienne wasn’t in the picture then, so she wouldn’t have recognized Wendy.”
“I still don’t understand how Will knew know about Roxy’s new will in the first place,” Quinn said.
“Easy,” Mac said with a grim smile. “He found out from her lawyer. By accident, of course. Sam Constantine was on the phone with Roxy, discussing the changes in her will, the day Will delivered two paintings I sold Sam. Will obviously overheard Sam’s end of the conversation and figured out what was going on. Plus, by then he had charmed one of the maids at Foxhall Manor, who let him use her master key from time to time. I’m sure he managed to slip into Roxy’s apartment when she wasn’t there and have a look around.”
“I met the maid he charmed. Pilar,” I said. “She cleaned Roxy’s apartment and also Faith Eastman’s.”
Mac’s face fell. “How is Faith? I heard she was in intensive care. Bobby said they found a box of Valentine’s candy in her apartment that had been poisoned.”
“She’s still not out of the woods,” I said, “but Kit says her mom is tough and she’ll pull through. Will must have been hovering nearby the day you and Roxy were arguing. He was the second person Faith saw walk past her door. Skye Cohen told me he helped deliver furniture to Veronica House that had been donated by residents or the families of someone who had passed away. I guess he knew his way around the place pretty well and no one questioned his presence. I wonder if Faith’s right and he poisoned Roxy, too. Maybe Pilar knows something.”
“If he did, I hope they lock him up somewhere and throw away the key,” Mac said. “Roxy was a wonderful person. And I owe Faith an apology.”
“Go visit her,” I said. “Now, before anyone else knocks on that door and asks what we’re doing in here, I think we should get back to the party. I nearly forgot that I need to talk to Dominique about something.”
“I heard,” Quinn said in my ear as we were leaving Frankie’s office, “that she turned down the job of executive chef at the White House.”
I looked at him in surprise. “How did you know about that?”
“Small town.” He grinned. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you. It’s snowing again.”
“Snowing?”
“Yup.” He grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”
We went outside onto the terrace, which we had to ourselves. White fairy lights outlined the balcony railing and gas lanterns flickered softly on either side of the four sets of double doors. The soft, fat flakes weren’t sticking and it wasn’t serious snow, but it was lovely.
Quinn led me over to the railing and we stared out at the view of the dark, peaceful vineyard and the hump-backed outline of the Blue Ridge Mountains behind it. After a moment, he pulled something out of his jacket pocket. “This is for you. It’s going on midnight and I wanted to do this while it was still Valentine’s Day.”
A velvet jewelry box.
“I don’t understand.”
“Open it.”
The exquisite ring, a large, brilliant, round-cut diamond surrounded by a circle of diamonds and set in an old-fashioned filigreed white-gold setting, was obviously an antique. “It’s beautiful,” I said.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “My mother’s mother, not from the Santori side, or the Tomassi. My grandfather had it made for her in Spain. It fits, by the way. I had a little help from Eli.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
The diamond flashed in the golden lantern light as he slipped it on my finger. “Say yes,” he said. “Because I’m asking you to marry me.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured, and kissed me.