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

the continual hum of the refrigerator.  She extracted her cell phone from her pocket and dialed.
    “Tara?  I’m ready to cash in on that lunch.”

CHAPTER 15
     
    L unch came and went, and by the end of it, Tara had begged her way over to the one place Isabelle didn’t want to be.  When they arrived, Tara took in the line of eager spectators who waited for a tour guide.  She grinned at one man as she breezed past him and stepped out the double doors that led to the vineyard.  “A private tour, I feel so lucky…this place is amazing.”
    “So, this is it,” Isabelle said.  “What would you like to know?”
    “Everything.”
    “Well, we make all kinds of wines: Cabernet Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Syrah, Merlot…”
    “What’s your favorite?”
    “That’s easy.  The sweeter the better.  When I was a teenager I used to mix the different varieties together.  I wanted to create my own blend.  My father loved it.  He always said he thought I would create my own version of wine one day—something different than anyone had ever tried before.”
    Tara bobbed her head around.  “Who knows, maybe you will.”
    “I don’t know if this is the right life for me.  The last week has been filled with lots of questions and no answers.  I feel like a Rubik’s Cube—like one day all my colors matched—I had a plan—I knew where I was going, or I thought I did.  But then someone came along and jumbled all the colors up and now I’m not sure what to do with my life.”
    “We don’t know each other very well yet, but I’ve got impeccable listening skills if you ever want to share what’s going on.”
    Isabelle laughed.  “Maybe later.  I thought we were here because you wanted to see what a winery looked like.”
    Tara winked.  “Alright then, let’s skip to the wine tasting part of the tour.”         
    Isabelle paused and fondled a cluster of grapes that hung from a branch.  “Here’s a fun fact: we hand-sort and hand-harvest all of our grapes.”
    “Seems time consuming.”
    “That’s why our wine is the best,” a voice said from behind.
    Over her shoulder Isabelle spotted chopstick-hair lady.  Her smart skirt and expensive heels had been replaced with slacks and a pair of shoes that looked like they were made for a horse.  The chopstick remained in place.
    “Sorry,” the lady said.  “I didn’t mean to barge in on you two.”
    Isabelle stepped forward.  “You were at the meeting today.”
    The woman stuck out her hand.  “I’m Renee Ashby.  You father hasn’t mentioned me?”
    Isabelle shook her head.  “What is it you do for us?”   
    “I’m the new CFO.”
    “What happened to Darby?”
    “Retired, over six months ago.  Living on some island now from what I heard.”
    Isabelle had known Jeff Darby all her life.  He was a childhood friend of her father’s and had been by his side since the day Roland took over the place.  It was hard to believe she was expected to run it now without him.
     Renee shifted her gaze to Tara.  “Did you know Isabelle was made President of her father’s estate this morning?”
    Tara responded with a raise of her eyebrow in Isabelle’s direction. 
    “I didn’t say I’d do it,” Isabelle said.
    Both women’s eyes shot up. 
    “You’ve considered telling your father no?” Renee said.  “Was it really that unexpected?”
    “Did you think I knew about it before the announcement?”
    “Didn’t you?”
    “How long have you known?” Isabelle said.
    Renee thought about it.  “He told me not long after I was hired. I always assumed you knew.  But the look on your face this morning…oh, wow.  I guess you didn’t know.  It’s been hard for him these past few months.  He’s been in a lot of pain, but he didn’t want to say anything.”
     “Sounds like my dad,” Isabelle said.  “Why didn’t he give the estate to my sister?  He knew she wanted it.  She’s never hesitated to let everyone know she had an