Murder Uncorked by Michele Scott Page B

his life’s work. He reveled in it, enjoyed it. He walked the vines, and Nikki knew that at harvest, he was picking alongside his workers. However, Nikki could also see the difference in his philosophy in winemaking versus Andrés’ concepts. Derek loved and appreciated it, but the bottom-line dollar and recognition was important to him too. It was still a passion for him, only slightly different from the way Andrés perceived it as a passion.

    “I would really love to learn everything I can about the process, what makes one crop better than another. I know a lot about the bottled wines already out there, but the actual day-to-day stuff that goes on behind the scenes in making the wines really interests me.”

    “Good. If there’s anything I love talking about, it’s wine and the vines used to make wine.” He turned his head for a second. “Wait a minute,” he said, turning back to her. “Manuel, hey, Manuel,” he called out.

    A worker a hundred feet or so away waved at them. Derek took her by the hand, as they walked over to him. “Manuel, this is my friend Nikki Sands. She’s going to be working with us.”

    Manuel was strong and muscular. Although he looked young from a distance, his face bore creases from what she assumed to be the sun and hard work. He was one of those people whose age you couldn’t tell by looking at them. Somewhere within a twenty-year span, because, though he had a young man’s body, he also exuded a sadness in his deep brown eyes. Life had been difficult for this man.

    He took off his thick work glove and shook her hand, enveloping it in the largeness of his own. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a thick Spanish accent.

    “You, too.”

    Derek pulled him aside and said, “I’ve got a box of clothes for your children up at the house, if you want to stop by in the morning. I also found some toys and books I thought they might like.”

    “ Gracias, Señor . You’re too kind.”

    “Let me know if you could use anything else.”

    The man nodded. Although he sounded gracious, Nikki also recognized that look of swallowed pride. Taking a handout was a hard thing to do, but sometimes necessary. Manuel didn’t look like it was something he enjoyed.

    They started to walk back to the house, the fog drifting deeper into the valley. Nikki hugged herself, a chill seeping into her.

    Derek took off his navy pullover and handed it to her. “Put this on.”

    “Thanks.” She took it, appreciative for it. She pulled it over her head and that same woodsy, cedar scent of his from the night before hit her. She breathed in deeply.

    “Manuel lost his wife and youngest child last year in an accident. She was driving to the school to pick up their other two children, and it was raining. One of the trucks that haul wines from here to a distribution warehouse hit a slick spot and collided head-on with her. Manuel hasn’t been the same since. I doubt he ever will be. Recovering from something like that is almost unimaginable.”

    She heard the emotion in his voice and wasn’t sure how to respond. “That’s terrible.” An old memory stirred from within. She shoved it down. This was not about her trauma.

    “It is,” he whispered, nodding his head.

    They walked the rest of the way in silence, reaching the guest cottage. She wanted to tell him about her thoughts on Gabriel, the charm, Andrés, and the pack of cigarettes she’d found in the shed, but her instinct, which was something she’d counted on from the time she was a little girl, told her to hold off. Besides, Derek had been through quite a bit of trauma himself, and she didn’t know if any of it meant a thing, or if it was prudent to talk about Gabriel with him yet.

    “Say an hour?” Derek asked.

    “You got it.” She went inside the bedroom of her quaint quarters and put the “best friends” charm in the side pocket of her travel bag. Then she headed into the bathroom, stripped down, and stepped into the shower,