Whispers of Murder by Cheryl Bradshaw Read Free Book Online Page A

underneath that sparkled depending on how her body shifted.  Her dark locks were wound up into a bun that was secured in place with a chopstick-looking fastener.  It was pulled so tight, Isabelle wondered if her eyes hurt. 
    Positioned at the head of the table was Isabelle’s father.  He’d never worn a suit in his life, not even on his wedding day, and he wasn’t about to break that trend now.  Isabelle had attempted to postpone the meeting and reminded him he needed rest, but he balked at the idea and assured her he was fine.  His only request was that she came to the meeting with him.  For years he’d tried to bring her into the family business and she’d always resisted, but he was just starting to recover.  The least she could do was to sit in on one meeting while she was there.   
    Roland looked at the empty chair to his left.  “Well, we’re not all here, but let’s get started.  I’ve called everyone together today to announce a couple changes.  I’ve been in charge of the estate for over thirty years now, and I’ll never forget the day my father passed it down to me.”
    The door burst open and Emmett rushed in with a face that said ‘someone get me a razor’ and a shirt that needed to be run through the wrinkle-free cycle a few times.  He glossed over the group and then scrambled to the vacant seat next to Roland.  Isabelle was shocked.  She knew he worked for her father, but in a leadership capacity?  All these years she’d thought he was only in charge of the harvest.  Roland looked at Emmett and they shared a glance like two brothers that harbored a secret map in their possession that would lead them to buried treasure.  Argh!
    “Over the past year,” Roland continued, “I’ve started to slow down.  I didn’t want to admit it to myself or anyone else for that matter, but I haven’t been able to manage things like I used to, and because of that, I’ve decided to do what’s best for the vineyard and my family.
    Isabelle was stunned.  Was he getting ready to hand the winery over to Emmett?  He’d always said Emmett was like a son to him, and the family business had been passed down from father to son for generations, but he wasn’t family.  She had to be wrong.  He wouldn’t do that—would he? 
    Emmett’s right hand quivered over a manila folder he held in his hand, and his eyes roamed around the different corners of the room but never rested on her.
    “A few of you haven’t met my daughter Isabelle, and that’s why I’ve asked her to join us today,” Roland said.  “When she was a child I taught her everything there was to know about this business, and though she’s been away for a year, I always hoped one day she would return and make her life here in this valley again.”
    Roland stretched out his fingers and Emmett deposited the folder into his hands.  Roland opened it, scanned the contents, and faced the group.  “I’ve had my lawyer draw up the papers, and as of the first of next year, I will step down as President of the estate, and Isabelle will take my place.”
    The suits tried their best to crack fake smiles in the direction of an unassuming Isabelle whose mouth split open like it was a tunnel waiting for a train to pass through.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw chopstick-hair lady grab a bottle and pour several glasses of wine.  That’s the last thing I need right now, she thought to herself.  Glasses were raised and everyone chanted, “To Isabelle,” and they clanked their glasses together.
    Roland turned to her.  “How about a few words?”
    Was he serious?
    She stood up and scrutinized all the faces in the room.  “I need ummm—I’ll be right back,” and she darted toward the door.  When she reached it, Emmett grabbed it from behind and swung it open.  She angled around and narrowed her eyes.  “Don’t, Emmett.  Just don’t.”
    Isabelle ran inside the house and yelled for her mom, but all was silent except for