Page 32 of Trouble Walked In

“Careful, Lizzie, it’s not the plate’s fault,” Renic said in a low voice.

“No, it’s yours,” She muttered. “What the hell are you doing?”

Renic gave her an innocent smile. “I was told meals were included.”

“They aren’t.”

“That’s okay. I’m happy to pay extra.”

She wanted to shove him off the stool. The twinkle in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. She gathered her patience, reminded herself she was an adult, and moved on down the island with her stack of plates.

Della followed behind her with the silverware. When she reached Renic, he looked at her with concern. “How are you doing, Della? I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m great.” She continued around the island. When she finished, she claimed a stool as far away from Renic as possible. “It’s really nice getting to see Lizzie and just relax for a change. It’s amazing up here. Peaceful. Howdidyou find this place, Lizzie?”

Lizzie claimed her own seat, directly across the island from Renic. He’d rolled up his sleeves, and his five o’clock shadow accentuated the angles of his face. The effect was annoyingly sexy. “I came for the winery tour, and ended up staying a few days. Days turned to weeks. By then I was hooked, and didn’t want to leave.”

Renic caught her looking at him and smirked. She turned her attention quickly to the other end of the island where Mark was waiting with four unopened bottles of wine.

Two large pot pies had been placed in the center of the island, along with a big bowl of salad.

Carrie perched on a stool opposite Della. “So, mighty winemaker, how’d I do? Stumped yet?”

Mark scoffed at her. “Not even close.”

He opened the first bottle and poured a tasting portion in each glass before handing it to Carrie, who passed it down the island to the next person until they all held a glass of white wine in their hands.

“I did have to dip into my own reserves for this one. Seriously? Pot pie? We might as well be at the county fair.”

Carrie looked unapologetic. “Everybody loves chicken pot pie. It’s a fair test.”

“Right. Well, tonight I’m pairing chicken pot pie with a fantastic 2016 Tetrick Chardonnay.” Mark held up the glass, peering at it as if it were a diamond before glancing around the table. “Who’s first?”

Della picked up her glass but looked at Mark, confused. “First for what?”

Lizzie sniffed her wine. “I detect notes of licorice with a side of bacon and a steel finish.”

Renic barked out a laugh.

Lizzie shared a smirk with him, forgetting for half a second that she hated him.

Mark looked at her with mock irritation. “Be serious. There’s a free sundae on the line. So far, Carrie’s up by three.”

“Do we have to do thiseverytime we have a meal?” Carter rolled his eyes.

Carrie poked Carter in the shoulder. “Not every time. Just family dinner time. Besides, you need to know this stuff, oh nephew of mine. You’ll be helping to run this place soon. How’s it going to look if the guy who does the business doesn’t know the first thing about the product he’s selling?”

“That’s what Mark is for,” Carter said. “He’s product development. I’m distribution and marketing.”

“Does anybody else want to take a stab at it?” Marks said. He eyed Lizzie. “Aseriousstab?”

She winked at him. She hadn’t known a thing about wine when she first came to the Finger Lakes. Now that she’d been here three years, she knew just enough to really tease the wine snobs. Mark was fiercely proud of the wines he produced, and she knew they were excellent. She didn’t know the right way to describe them, and the wrong way was so much more fun.

Everyone raised their glass and sniffed.

“Pear?” Carrie glanced at Mark for confirmation.

He nodded. “Yes, and…”

---