Dominique told me what happened. I’m so glad you came to see us. We’ll take care of you.” He nodded to Kit. “
A buzz of conversation above the clatter of dishes and the clinking of silverware seemed vaguely comforting. I could see through the warren of interconnected rooms that all the tables appeared to be taken.
I said, “No, thanks” as Kit said, “Yes.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? You could use a drink, if you ask me.”
“I could, but I just saw a couple of the Romeos in the bar. You know they’re going to hit me up for every detail about what happened. I don’t think I can handle it right now.”
The maître d’ swiftly picked up two menus. “I have a table available right now. In the main dining room, not where you usually sit, and not terribly private. Will that be satisfactory? Otherwise…”
Kit nodded as I said, “Perfect.”
“I’ll let your cousin know where you’re sitting. Enjoy your dinner.”
Kit got her earlier wish—almost—as our table was next to a window overlooking Goose Creek. A necklace of Japanese lanterns strung along its banks shone serenely in the darkness. I could no longer see the water except in places where it glinted, shiny and black as coal in the lantern light, nor hear it above the din of voices.
Our waiter took drink orders, but it was my cousin who showed up with two glasses. Not what we’d asked for.
“Kir Royal. On the house.” Dominique set the flutes of raspberry-colored champagne in front of us. “How are you,
Before Dominique became the full-time owner of the Inn, she ran a catering company that she’d nurtured from a startup when she moved here from France to look after Mia when my mother died. Before long she was putting in Washington-type sixty-and seventy-hour weeks and business was booming. Everyone figured she’d get an assistant once she added the Inn to an overfull plate, but by then she’d been named Loudoun County’s businesswoman of the year and you don’t stomp on superwoman’s cape, to loosely paraphrase the song.
A few months later she came down with pneumonia brought on by exhaustion and finally decided maybe she could use a little help. She went through three assistants in three months and had just hired her fourth. Fortunately, my cousin hadn’t been around at the time or she probably would have micromanaged God into taking only five days instead of seven to get the ball rolling creation-wise.
“I’m all right,” I said. “Thanks for the Kir.”
“I heard about Georgia from Sam Constantine,” she said. “
“How did Sam know?” I asked.
“He was with Ross at the sheriff’s office.”
Sam was one of the Romeos, even though he was still a year or two away from retirement.
“Ross needed a lawyer?” I had been reaching for my champagne glass and nearly knocked it over. Dominique rescued it before it tipped. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Ross is home now. I just spoke to Siri Randstad. She’s answering his phone and trying to keep the press at bay.” I glanced at Kit, who made a face. “I didn’t mean you. Anyway, Siri didn’t mention that Ross had been charged with anything.”
“He wasn’t,” my cousin said. “Sam was just there making sure nothing happened to Ross’s Second Amendment rights.”
Dominique was finally getting her U.S. citizenship and was hoping to be sworn in just before Flag Day, after she took a test in civics and American history.
“The Second Amendment,” Kit said, fishing a raspberry out of her champagne flute with her finger, “is the right to bear arms.”
“
“Ross has the best alibi in the world,” I said. “He delivered twins last night. Got the call before the fund- raiser ended. When I reached him this morning to tell him about Georgia, he was just driving home.”
“The police always check out whoever is closest to the victim first,” Kit said. “You know that.”
“I’d better get back to the kitchen.” Dominique glanced over her shoulder. “They probably need me there. By the way, the pastry chef made Fitz’s Double Chocolate Died-and-Gone-to-Heaven Cheese-cake.” She glanced at Kit. “In case you’re interested.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t. Okay, I shouldn’t.”
“Go on back to work, then,” I said to my cousin. “We won’t keep you. I’ll call your assistant in a day or two to go over the plans for Memorial Day.”
“What number assistant is this?” Kit asked when we were alone. “Eight?”
“Four. Dominique swears she’ll let this one handle the catering business, but for now she’s got her on a short leash.”
“The only leashes she owns are short. Speaking of which, is she ever going to marry Joe?”
Joe Dawson taught history at a private girls’ high school in Middleburg and occasionally helped out at the vineyard. He’d been going out with Dominique for years.
“Who knows? They’re engaged, but I think the wedding’s on hold for a while. She’s too busy to plan anything at the moment.”
“You know, it ought to be against the law to make that cheesecake. The diet starts tomorrow. I mean it.”
Kit had gained at least twenty-five pounds during the two years I’d been in France. Every day the diet started tomorrow.
I smiled as her mobile phone, which was lying on the table next to her bread plate, started to vibrate. She picked it up and stared at the display. “Well, will you look at that? Quinn Santori. I bet it’s for you.”
Kit opened the phone and said, “She’s right here. Hang on.”
I stood up, reaching for my cane. “I’ll take this outside. Excuse me.”
He was none too happy at waiting on me. When I said hello, he snapped, “I’ve been chasing you all over two counties. I finally called Faith Eastman and got this number. Where
“You had to track me down through Kit’s mother? I’m at the Goose Creek Inn. What’s up?”
“Unfortunately, nothing is up. I just checked the sensors in those low-lying fields. The temperature’s dropped pretty fast in the past hour. Harry Dye’s going to turn on his turbines again tonight. I can’t get hold of Chris Coronado, so it’s just you, me, Hector, and anyone else we can round up to try to deal with this. You need to get back here right now.”
“What are you talking about?” I said, stunned. “It’s going below freezing
“Yup. Another killing frost. And this time we’re not ready.”
Chapter 4
Kit looked like I’d stabbed her through the heart when I told her I had to leave immediately. She was only slightly mollified when our waiter boxed our meals to go and included an extra-large piece of cheesecake for her. I gave him an outrageous tip and we left.
“No more criticizing me for eating in my car,” she said as we got into the Jeep and I pulled the Styrofoam containers out of a large paper bag. “You’re doing it, too.”
“Dammit. The weather forecast said the temperature would stay above freezing tonight.” I drove a plastic fork too aggressively through a piece of roasted eggplant and heard the plastic snap. “Why did I do that? All I’ve got left is a spoon.”
“Take my fork. I’m using my fingers. Don’t tell me you believe what those people say. That cute guy on Channel Two is no meteor-ologist, you know. They just hired him to boost ratings because he’s such a hunk. He used to be on a soap opera. I think he played a brain surgeon.” She fiddled with the latch of her Styrofoam box. “I can’t open this. Can you please hand me a piece of chicken? I’m famished.”
