Tangled Vines by Janet Dailey Page A

He raised her jacket up to check the battery pack attached to the waistband of her skirt, giving – Sam a glimpse of the ice blue silk and lace of the camisole she wore under it. He found it an interesting contrast to the tailored lines of her jacket.
    Whatever adjustment the technician made, it worked. Almost immediately, she flashed him a smile. “It’s loud and clear now. Thanks, Carl.”
    The man responded with a one-fingered salute and retreated from the set as the stage manager called out, “All right, quiet. We’ll be coming out of the break in twenty seconds.”
    Kelly sat down and murmured something to Katherine that Sam couldn’t catch. Then she was bent over the papers on her lap, her pen busy slashing and scribbling across them.
    â€œFifteen seconds” came the warning, followed quickly by the countdown.
    Sam glanced at the monitor and idly watched faces give way to weather graphics. But his mind wandered, as always his thoughts drifting to the winery and vineyards, and the work to be done. He had postponed the thinning of Sol’s Vineyard until he got back to supervise the work. The bottling of the two-year-old cabernet sauvignon was continuing, under Claude’s watchful eye. The Merlot was scheduled for bottling as well.
    Len Dougherty wasn’t a concern, at least for the time being. Before they’d left for New York, the sheriff had called to tell them he had been arrested by the St. Helena police. He had pleaded guilty to a drunk-and-disorderly charge. Currently Dougherty was in the city jail, serving a four-day sentence.
    Belatedly, Sam noticed a shot of Kelly Douglas on the monitor. A set of graphics flashed on the screen, promoting the gala wine auction, listing the time, the location, the ticket prices, and the charity that would receive the proceeds.
    Privately he wished they could have their meeting with Baron Fougere, skip the auction, and fly home. But he also recognized this might be the last major function Katherine attended. God knows she had devoted her entire life, every bit of her energy, to Rutledge Estate, its vineyards and its wines, to the exclusion of nearly everything else. She deserved to bask in the glory her wines had achieved.
    And Sam had no doubt the auction would prove to be a triumph for Rutledge Estate wines. Katherine had donated a case of the ‘73 cabernet sauvignon Rutledge Estate Reserve, a vintage that every wine expert had rated as a classic wine, the highest accolade a wine could receive. And it was a vintage that now could be found only in the cellars of private collectors. The last time a single bottle of the ‘73 vintage had been offered at auction, seven years ago, it had sold for five hundred dollars, a phenomenal sum for a California wine. The price for an entire case could end up being in the tens of thousands.
    To call that a triumph might be an understatement, Sam conceded.
    Beside him, Hugh Townsend murmured, “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”
    Sam turned, glancing at him, a slight frown creasing his forehead. Townsend stood, one arm folded in front of him, propping an elbow while he rubbed fingers across his mouth in a thoughtful pose.
    Catching Sam’s questioning look, he flicked a finger toward the set. “She threw out most of the introduction and wrote her own. It’s superb,” he murmured from behind his hand.
    Only then did Sam give his attention to the words Kelly Douglas was saying.
    â€œ.... truly can be considered a legend. During Prohibition, while others were replacing their vineyards with orchards, she kept her winery going by making sacramental wines. At the same time, she replanted her vineyards with the finest viniferous cuttings, personally selected and imported from France, always firm in the belief that the great experiment of Prohibition would one day end. A belief that history has proved correct. Ask any connoisseur of California wines about Rutledge Estate, and