The Chardonnay Charade
checked my phone. One missed call, Dominique’s number. I hit the send button and she answered on the first ring.
    “Where are you?” she asked.
    “Middleburg.”
    “If you haven’t had lunch, come by. I have your menus for Memorial Day.”
    “I’ll come, but I thought your assistant was handling the vineyard catering.”
    A long moment of silence, then she said, “Well, she would be, but she’s busy with other things. I’m taking care of it this time.”
    “Right. See you in a few minutes.” I disconnected.
    Dominique couldn’t let go of the reins to any of her projects. I wondered how much longer assistant number four would stick around.
    The lunch crowd had thinned out by the time I got to the Inn, so today I got a parking place close to the entrance. I drove by the four designated handicapped spots near the front door, all empty. Ross had been after me to get handicapped license plates, but I told him that they belonged to disabled people who really needed them. Not me. I could walk on my own just fine.
    Harry Dye came out of the Inn as I crossed the flagstone terrace. He looked up and our eyes met. Just as quickly he looked away.
    “Aw, gee, Harry,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with. You saw me. I saw you.”
    On cue, he changed direction and came toward me. Normally he and I were on the phone, or he talked to Quinn, on a regular basis. We shared information, workers, equipment, and advice, since our vineyards were located within a couple miles of each other. He had not called since the party. It would be good to get this awkwardness behind us.
    “Lucie! How are you?” Harry leaned over for a kiss, sounding hearty enough, but his eyes slid away from mine. A decorated Marine who’d put in his time on the battlefield, he’d spent the last years of his career at the Pentagon. Quinn liked him, especially because he was so level-headed and matter-of-fact. Something really pushed Harry over the edge, for him to take on Georgia at the fund-raiser. An officer and a gentleman didn’t bawl out a lady—as a rule.
    “I’m all right. How about you?”
    He shook his head regretfully. “Still in the doghouse with Amy. I may never get out. And then Georgia…God, Lucie, I can’t tell you how bad I feel about that. It must have been awful, finding her the way you did.”
    “It was. What happened with you and her? I don’t get it.”
    “Too much booze,” he said simply. “I can’t abide dishonorable people, so I told her what I thought of her. There’s no excuse for what I did, but she was just so goddam conceited and cocky about how she was going to bury Noah in the election. Laugh her damned head off all the way to Richmond.”
    “So this was about Noah?”
    “That and the way she was trying to destroy us. Vineyards. Restaurants. This crusade of hers that we’re evil because we sell alcohol and we poison kids. People are buying that crap, too. I really let her have it, didn’t I?”
    “It was quite a performance.”
    He grinned, still a bit shamefaced, but at least it seemed we had gotten back on our old footing. “Well, I paid for it. The mother of all hangovers and a friendly visit from the sheriff’s office, asking where I was for the rest of the night since I apparently threatened her.”
    “You said she needed a good spanking.”
    “God.” He groaned. “I didn’t.”
    “You really were on a roll.” I paused. “You had words with Randy, too.”
    He turned red. “You saw that, did you?”
    “What was that all about?”
    He hesitated, then said, “No offense, Lucie, but it’s personal. I’d rather not say.”
    “Harry, I’ve got the sheriff’s department tearing my vineyard apart. If you think you feel bad about this, think how I feel. Randy’s missing. Disappeared. Please tell me what happened. Please?”
    He blew out a long breath and skimmed the top of his military brush cut with a hand. “I guess it’s a good thing Amy and I never had kids,” he said finally. “I

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