Chapter 3
“I saw you!” Marissa Drake said after their greeting, eyeing her brother-in-law with playful suspicion.
“What?”
“Dexter Drake! Don’t even try it. I saw you looking at and flirting with the woman who was waiting by the elevator.”
“Who? The toned, natural-looking sister, about five-seven or eight, with the long legs and cute tush? Naw, I wasn’t looking at her.”
“Right. You weren’t paying her any attention at all.” They laughed as Marissa hooked her arm through his and they began walking toward the hotel entrance. Even before marrying Dexter’s brother, Donovan, a year ago, she and the youngest Drake had developed a special bond. Part of it was his effervescent personality, and part of it was the fact that when both Donovan and Marissa were trying to deny their mutual attraction, Dexter forced his brother’s hand by jokingly implying he was interested in Marissa. He’d threatened to ask her out if Donovan didn’t. That had led to a scowling “don’t you dare” from his more reserved brother followed by a campaign from Donovan for Marissa’s love that would have impressed a presidential candidate. Marissa thought about a particular conversation that took place during this time, and chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, just thinking.” An improbable thought came to her mind, but she dismissed it immediately. Dexter may be a matchmaker. She was not. Besides, Dexter liked sultry, flashy women. The woman at the elevator did not at all look his type. “So...what has a Drake Wines executive pulling kitchen duty on a Thursday afternoon?”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Dexter knew that one could see the door to the kitchen when sitting at the end of the bar. Marissa had obviously seen him exit it. “I was meeting with the chef to make sure that everything is in place for Papa’s party tomorrow.” David Drake Sr., Dexter’s great-grandfather, whom everyone affectionately called Papa Dee, had been born on the sprawling, mountainous land inherited by his grandfather almost two centuries ago. His centenary celebration would be the resort’s highlight of the month. “The kitchen staff is as excited as the rest of us and has done a bang-up job.”
“I’m really looking forward to the party. It’s going to be wonderful to pay tribute to Papa Dee in this way.”
“What about you? What had you sipping wine at the bar on a Thursday?”
“On my way back from Riverside and decided to drop by.”
“What’s going on in Riverside?”
“A good friend of mine recently divorced and moved back there. I went to help her settle in and offer moral support. I’d thought about meeting Don here, maybe having dinner with the in-laws. But when I reached him he reminded me about the meeting he had with your cousin.”
Dexter smiled at the mention of his cousin, Warren Drake, part of the clan formerly known as the Drakes of Louisiana. Several years ago, four of the six brothers in that family had relocated to Northern California, when gold had been discovered on land that had been in their family for decades. The siblings had incorporated the land, founded a town and were soon movers and shakers in Paradise Valley, California. Most of the Drakes of Louisiana were now the Drakes of California, just like their cousins. They were also smart and shrewd with business savvy, which is why Donovan was meeting with Warren—to expand their businesses and their brands.
They exited the hotel. “So...what does your friend look like?” Dexter asked. “Is she fine?”
Marissa gave Dexter the side eye. “You are not interested. She has four children.”
“Whoa!”
“Ha! Thought that would make you put that player card back in your pocket. Everyone knows you’re allergic to kids.”
“That’s not true. Kids are cool...as long as they’re not mine.”
“So everything is set for Papa Dee’s party?” Marissa asked, clearly not up for a debate on the value of anyone’s next generation and changing the subject to prove it.
Dexter nodded. “Because of the RSVPs and sold-out rooms, we had to expand the menu, but I consider that a good problem to have. They are working hard to make sure his favorite dishes are executed to perfection.”
“What about the cake?”
“That’s being done by an outside company, one that specializes in imaging. It will feature a picture of Papa, set against a vineyard backdrop, with one hundred candles lighting the way from the countryside to the hotel.”
“Wow. Papa Dee is turning one hundred years old. I can’t even imagine what it will feel like to be in this crazy world another seventy years.”
“I can’t imagine it either,” Dexter said. “But I hope I get to experience it.” They reached his car. “Where are you parked?”
“Not far.”
“You want to ride to the house with me and join us for dinner, since Don is acting like the workaholic that he is?”
“Thanks, Dexter, but no. I think I’ll head on home and make dinner for two.”
“Listen to you sounding all domesticated.”
“Marriage will do that to you,” Marissa said with a laugh. “You ought to try it.”
“Naw, I’m good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. You saw what happened to the last woman who tried to tie me down.”
“I sure did, but I respect Maria. You can’t be mad at a woman in her thirties who doesn’t want to continue dating—” Marissa used air quotes “—for the next ten years.”
Dexter opened his car door. “On that female-biased note, I’m out.”
“Ha! Whatever.”
“I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Dexter slid into the soft leather seat of his latest toy and made the five-minute trip from the boutique hotel that anchored the resort to the Drake estate to have dinner with his parents. On the way, he thought about what Marissa had said. In two short years both of his older siblings had found their true loves and married them. As a result, his sister, Diamond, had blossomed into an even more beautiful and confident woman with a child on the way, and his brother, Donovan, was happier than Dexter had ever remembered.
“But that’s not you, man,” Dexter said aloud as he pulled into the circular drive of the family home, where he still lived. “There are too many clusters on the vine for you to be satisfied with just one grape.”
Chapter 4
Faye was startled awake, this time by her ringing cell phone. She looked at the clock on her nightstand in amazement, checked that time against what was shown on her watch. What had been intended as a five-minute nap before ordering room service had turned into the first seven uninterrupted hours of sleep she’d had in a very long time. Before, when she’d worked in Africa, and for the past three years that she’d spent in Haiti, four to five hours of sleep per night was the norm, six or seven a luxury. She yawned, stretched and reached for her phone, smiling as she rapidly typed out a text to Ian:
I called and left a message,