One Book in the Grave by Kate Carlisle Read Free Book Online Page A

already at work in the kitchen, knew she would be nervous all day, knew that a number of well-known restaurant critics were driving up from San Francisco to experience the opening-night menu. But I also knew without a doubt that Arugula would be wildly successful and that Savannah Wainwright, my bald-headed, slightly wacky sister, was on her way to becoming the next celebrity chef of the Bay Area.
    At the end of the Lane, Derek turned right and drove up Vivaldi Way toward my parents’ home. Over the years, a number of commune members had built homes in the hills overlooking Dharma, and as we climbed, we passed Abraham’s Spanish colonial on the right where his daughter, Annie, now lived. The Westcott family lived in the Tudor-style home tucked into the hillside on the left side of the road. Around the next turn, Carl Brundidge,the lawyer for most of the commune members, owned the sleek contemporary on the right.
    Despite being in a commune, we all had our own individual styles and our houses demonstrated that.
    A minute later, we pulled up in front of my parents’ spacious ranch-style home. Before the car had rolled to a stop, Mom and Dad came running out to greet us. They were holding hands, and seeing them together eased more of the tension around my heart.
    The weather was warm enough that Mom had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and she wore a tie-dyed tank top, cargo shorts, and utility boots. Mom had great legs and her arms were toned from the exercise she got picking apples and grapes all year long.
    “Looks like Mom’s been out in the orchards this morning,” I said to Derek. “You know what that means?”
    He shut off the engine and glanced at me. “What?”
    “She might be making her crazy-delicious apple crisp while we’re here.”
    “Apple crisp?” His eyes were instantly alert. “Don’t toy with me, Brooklyn.”
    I laughed as I climbed out of the car. Mom’s crazy-delicious apple crisp with its awesome, spiked caramel sauce was worth the hour-long drive from the city to Sonoma.
    I hugged my dad, surprised to see him all dressed up in Dockers and a clean, pressed, denim work shirt. His loafers were shiny, too, and he was wearing one of the Jerry Garcia ties I’d given him for Christmas. For Dad, this was formal wear. The man rarely wore anything but faded jeans and a T-shirt, since he spent most of his days out in the vineyards or in the barrel room, tasting and experimenting with the wines.
    I knew I was probably prejudiced, but I thought my parents were adorable. They never seemed to age, which probably should’ve annoyed me, since I was getting older all the time, but it didn’t. It just made me happy to be here with them.
    “I’ve invited Robson and some of the children overfor lunch,” Mom announced after she’d hugged us both and tried to wrestle my overnight bag from me. As we walked into the house, she turned to Derek and added, “And I’ve cooked up a few of your favorite dishes.”
    “You’re a goddess, Rebecca,” Derek said, and Mom giggled like a little girl. He was the only one besides Guru Bob who called her Rebecca.
    I was hoping “some of the children” Mom had invited included my best friend, Robin, and my brother Austin. They were a couple now, living together in Austin’s home in the hills above Dharma. I missed Robin living close by me in the city, but I was overjoyed that she and my brother had finally found each other. Of course, Robin had to almost
die
for Austin to wake up to the fact that he was in love with her and she was meant for him, but at least they were together now.
    “Dad, why are you all dressed up?” I asked.
    “I’ve got a board of directors meeting,” he said with a pensive sigh.
    Dad was on three boards of directors, so I asked, “For the winery?”
    He nodded mournfully, and I laughed again. “It’s a real bitch being so successful.”
    “Language, Brooklyn,” Mom said mildly, rubbing my father’s arm. “But you’re right.