Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 04 - Trash Out (12 page)

My gargoyle grimace solidified like carved stone
.  “I am fabulous, business is excellent,
w
e’re al
l terribly excited about being part
in the wedding of the decade and I’m moving to Claim Jump with my
successful
,
wealthy
fiancée.  How has your life been?”

His expression darkened, as I knew it would. He was selfish and self
-
centered when I met
him;
he was selfish and
self-centered
as we planned the wedding. He was in charge of writing the
vows;
the rest of the work was up to me. 
It
was a h
o
llow offer,
since
clearly
he never intended on speaking them. He probably didn’t even write them at all.
Why did I think he would be any better in another context?
I immediately excused my idiocy as youth.
At the time,
I thought I had enough
love
for the both of us.

“Have you married?” I pointedly glanced at his naked left hand, I already knew the answer but I wanted to get my digs in while I had the chance.  “Children?”

“Children can be such a comfort in your old age.” Carrie supplied.  She was about to turn and quiz the girlfriend
when Ben finally materialized.

“There you are.”  He glanced at Mark
, the girl,
then at Carrie.  Carrie’s eyes glittered like a cat waiting to pounce.  Ben didn’t need any more information
than that
.
  He was about to say something appropriate, when Cassandra interrupted us.

Cassandra bounced up to Mark and clutched his arm effectively jostling the other woman away,
who
took the displacement with surprising grace.  I was confused, but it didn’t matter
, Cassandra’s interruption was a
g
od
-
send
. 

“Mark,” Cassandra cooed, in much the same tone she had recently
employed
that morning with Ben.  Ah, so many men, so little time.

“Come and meet some people.”  She grinned in triumph at Carrie and me, tossed her head in Ben’s direction and hustled Mark off.

The four of
us
stood in a tiny eye of a hurricane.

“Fuck me dead.” Carrie muttered.

Ben
measured
the trajectory of Mark and Cassandra.
 
“Excuse us.”  He wrapped his arm around my waist and not to
o
gently pulled me
in the opposite direction
.

I grabbed a glass of white wine off another table, it was too warm, but I didn’t care.  I gulped it down as Ben propelled me past knots of people to the relative safety of the
crush pad
.

“
How do you know him
?”  He demanded softly.

“My ex-
fiancé
.”  I looked around for a place to put the empty glass. 

He sucked his breath,
and then
engulfed
me
in
a big, breath taking bear hug. I dropped the glass and it shattered on the cement.

“I’m sorry,”
h
e mumbled into my hair. “That must have been a blow.”

The
stainless steel
equipment
around
us
pinged and sighed as
it cooled in the early evening.
The roar of the crowd was deadened here
. It
was more comfortable
and private
. I shifted and my foot hit the glass, cracking it again.

“I haven’t seen him since before the wedding.”  I said truthfully.

I felt Ben nod.

I wiggled happily in his embrace and kicked the
shattered glass
. “I don’t know if we should leave him alone with
Carrie on the loose
.” 

“
You’re right, she
looked pretty
dangerous
.”

“Defending her friend.  This is the first time they’ve met. I don’t think he really appreciates who she is.”

I still didn’t understand the girl attached to Mark.
I would have
thought
th
at Mark would be attracted to a
more slippery girl, someone in
a
red
dress finished off
with platform heels and bare legged because her skin was still young and firm and so she could eschew pantyhose.  But he could have matured and is now attracted by someone more, understated.
Someone with a winery.
  I wondered how they met, yet
at the same time,
didn’t really care.  Cassandra was
on her own
.

“I’ll get someone to sweep this u
p
.” Ben said absently.  He crushed me to his side and we locked stepped back to the party, admittedly away from the patio. I was brave, but not that brave.
 

“
Just g
reat.” Ben mumbled. But he wasn’t look
ing
at me or at the retreating couple.  He was scanning the crowd.  “I have someone I need to talk to, are you oka
y?  I think Mark
and Cassandra are still in the tent.”

“Then I’ll stay here.”  The oyster bar was
in the middle.
Or maybe it was time for some Cow Girl Creamery Camembert.

A tall, attractive woman with dark hair braided down her back reached for
the wheel of cheese
the same time I did.

“Oh, sorry.”  Her voice and tone were oddly flat, but then many of the gu
ests, with the exception of the
enthusiastic
Mark Cincet
, were on the reticent side.  I hoped the wedding would prove more festive, maybe even wild and crazy.

“After you.” I pulled my hand back and opened the way for her to access the
creamy cheese. 

She nodded and
expertly
knifed a generous hunk onto the crostini.  She woofed it down as if she hadn’t tasted decent cheese in years.  Well, Cow Girl was pretty damn good. 

“Thanks. So this is the engagement party?”  She
easily
sliced
out another
wedge
of
brie
onto
the bread
.
Her face registered
the pure, unreasonable pleasure of the
food
.  We were kindred spirits in that.

“No, it’s the winery opening.  But we are testing it out for the wedding, but you knew that.”  I hazarded.
  I had no idea who she was, but I was accustomed to not knowing everyone in Carrie’s new circle.

She nodded and
created two more cheese and bread combinations
and held
one in each hand. “I read about the engagement in the
Chronicle
. You must be very excited.”

“Of course. We’re all excited.” I said.   The odd woman nodded and moved away from me
still carrying her cheese
. She
melted into the crowd. And I mean that pretty literally, she just sort of disappeared.  I never disappear, even in a crowd.  How did she do that?

Perhaps because
she’s quieter than me, that probably helped.

My phone buzzed. I glanced down at the caller, ah, the
Garcia’s
.  I answered and as I spoke
with
him,
I scanned the guests.
  The light was turning into liquid gold as the sun crept towards the top of the mountains and angled long streaks
of sunshine
over the flat valley floor.  Shadows snaked from the pillars and urns.  The air was still warm but now a breeze from the back of
the
warehouse wound
around my bare ankles.  I shivered. Where was Mark? Because wherever
he was, I plan
n
ed to hike in the
opposite direction. 

A small reception line had formed, with Ben at the head thanking the guests and shaking hands. Where was Cassandra? I gla
n
ced around as
I listened to
John Garcia
discussed the pros and cons of each property.

I saw Mark at the trailing end of the reception line, the girl right next to him.  But she
grew
bored with the good byes quickly enough and wandered towards me. She circumvented
me and the oysters
and purposefully walked to the warehouse.

The
Garcia’s
liked the Heron Way house and that made me happy, pretty happy
.
I was too distracted to be solidly delighted.

Carrie and Patrick stood by a large amphora tipped artfully to one side.  They were talking with a couple I did not recognize
.

And for once it didn’t matter. I was not compelled to introduce myself to Carrie’s new friends.
I did not feel compelled to network, to thrust my business card at them. I could do nothing.
I relished the moment of calm.  The air had a Sunday evening feeling - it caressed me with the end of week, the end of the weekend. It was restful, quiet.  I took in a breath and
my shoulders finally dropped past my
jawline
.

The ground abruptly rolled and
threw me off balance.  Whoa.  I instinctively looked for the nearest door way, but that refuge was
passé
, no one stands in doorways during an earthquake, you’re suppose to crouch next to a desk
in the triangle of safety.
At least that’s what you are supposed to do according to an anxious email that made the rounds last
s
pring.
I bolted for the tasting room doors.  Old habits are hard to re-think during a real moment of
crisis
.

The tremor was over
by the time
I reached the doorway.
A cry went up from the guests,
and like them, I listened to the abrupt silence, as if we all could hear the approach of the next
tremor, as if tremors come in pairs
.
The silence
grew;
we held our breaths, nothing.  It was just that, a short rumble,
the
geysers
clearing their throats. Just as
conversations began to buzz up again
,
a mighty splintering crash
reverberat
ed off the steel tanks
in the warehouse
and
annihilated
the fragile calm
.

I was
near
est
,
but Carrie and Patrick were only steps away from me.  We all dashed through the tasting room door, past the marble
tasting
bar and through the back doors leading to the
warehouse
.  We paused, our eyes, or at least my eyes, had to adjust to the gloom, and no one wanted to trip on
a
hose or
a
jutting pallet.

The
warehouse was silent
. 
I picked my way through the
room,
it wasn’t large, just treacherous, especially in my pair of good Christian Louboutins. 
The back door was open and I could finally make out
a tangle of
clear tubing carelessly flung over the damp floor.

I stepped over one
tube
, then another.

“Cassandra!” Carrie called out from behind me. 

I jumped.
“Don’t do that!”

She pushed me aside,
then
recoiled back.

Chapter
7

It did not take long for the remainder of the party
guests
to come running
.
I quickly glanced over my shoulder but Mark was not in evidence.  Good.

It was a tableau worthy of the stage (Summer
,
back in Claim Jump
,
would
have
be
en
impressed).
The
tremor
must have
been just
strong
enough to knock loose those
top heavy
wine cases.  Half the cases had
tumbled down and splintered in a wide circle. 
Green g
lass
glinted in the
overhead
lights
and white wine lapped at our feet.  Careless
of the glass
, Cassandra knelt beside
a
prone body
.
 

“The tremor!  The cases fell, I couldn’t
move fast enough
!
”  Cassandra wailed. 
White
wine pooled out from under the inert man and soaked into Cassandra’s
rose
silk slacks.
  Even as the guests tumbled into the shadowy warehouse, I noticed that Cassandra was not bleeding.  She had not been under the cases.  I steeled myself to look at the prone body.
He
was covered in green glass
and blood
. He
was terribly still.

“Shit
,
”
a guest
breathed.

“Is he dead?”

“Is he hurt?”

And the more practical,
“What are we going to do?” 

A young
man,
who could be accurately described as tall, dark and handsome, waded through the pond of wine
and crushed glass
and
calmly
lifted Cassandra away from
the
man
.  The boy transferred
Cassandra
to Ben and returned to
the
injured man.  We all stood respectfully as he leaned over
.
The boy paused and took a breath before straightening.

Cassandra didn’t need any more than that.  “Oh no!  No!”  Her wails cracked the silence.

“Now what will I do!”  She moaned and held her head. Her curls cascaded over her cheeks.
She buried her face in Ben’s shoulder and started to sob.

“All that wine
,
”
s
omeone breathed behind me.

“
We just mailed the invitations
,
” Carrie uttered
, but fortunately
not loud enough for anyone but me to hear.

Patrick stepped forward
, glanced at the gathering crowd and quickly turned his attention to the young cellar rat
who
seemed to be the only student left on the premise
. The
two men
carefully
lifted
the body
free
of
the glass
. Shards fell from the prone figure and clanged on the cement floor.  The men gently
carried
him
into the waning
sunshine.
Cuts welled with blood, the
tannic
scent of the wine drifted around us like a
miasma
.

We heard sirens in the distance because you always hear sirens in the distance at times like this.

“I’m ruined.”  Cassandra followed the body outside and sank back down next to
the boy. It was Fred.  I sucked in my breath as Cassandra ineffectually
fluttered her hands over his prone form as if commanding him to rise. It wasn’t working.

“You are not ruined
,
” Carrie snapped.  “You are still in business, this was an unfortunate accident and we’ll just have to move on.” Carrie leaned over Cassandra and
smacked her
arm.  “Are you listening?”

“Honey,
”
Patrick wiped his hands on his elegant slacks and approached Carrie. He folded his arms around her and led her away.   “It will be fine, it’s just an accident, terrible
;
we all felt the tremor. But we’ll cope, we’ll help Cassandra cope.”
  In a lower voice he murmured, “
the
wedding will be fine.”

For the very first time I wondered what Patrick thought about this insane wedding.  Would he have preferred a quick trip to Vegas?  Carrie never intimated that he would,
but
now
I wondered.

Ben’s heavy tread distracted me for a moment.  “There’s another injury.”  His face was grave.

“Where?”

“Further under the cases.”

Carrie glanced back at me.  I exchanged the look.

“Who?”  I kept my eyes on my friend.  In our experience events
labeled accidents were often anything but.  However, for
the next few weeks
we may
be forced to
assiduously not know what
really
happened.
This was an act of God, you don’t have to
investigate an act of God,
there
isn’t even another form to fill out, at least from my end.  It
would be
hard to get a signature.

Ben lifted his head.  “Is the ambulance on the way?”

A siren beeped and wailed as if in answer.

“Who?”  I asked because no one else was asking. The young boy who had helped with
Fred
appeared in the sun
with another
guest
.  Between
them
sagged
a woman
dressed in linen slacks and a now stained tunic.
Her white hair was matted with
blood;
her tan face was smeared with blood mixed with wine. They laid her gently on the ground and the boy disappeared again. 

Cassandra
took one look and groaned anew.
Her hand wringing escala
ted to a frantic level.
I thought of Lady Mac
b
eth, but knew it really didn’t apply,
Cassandra
was just overwrought
,
Lady
Mac
b
eth had been guilty.
Cassandra’s own hands were clean.

“Who is it?”  Carrie asked.

The ambulance
screeched
up
to the back doors.
The crowd obediently parted to allow the two
EMTs
through.  They took one look at
poor
Fred
and left him
where he lay
. First they help the living. 

The young
cellar rat
,
rushed back clutching two fuzzy
picnic blankets from the gift store
.
  He
covered the woman with one and folded the other for a pillow.

“Trisha Gault.”  Ben leaned over and picked out a piece of glass from her head, he didn’t dare wipe her
face;
there could be hundreds of glass pieces caught on her skin.

The name was familiar.

“She owns Wind Runner
W
inery.”  Patrick gingerly patted the blanket covering the woman.  “I don’t know what she was doing here.”

“She’s mad at me,
this is
all my fault!”  Cassandra said wildly.

The EMT’s looked at Cassandra with interest.

“Get her out of here.”  Ben
shot me a commanding look as he
stepped between the EMTs and Cassandra. M
e?
And where was her lover boy, Mark? 
Conspicuously absent
in times of crisis.
I
reached out, gripped Cassandra mid-hand wring and pulled her away from
her former tasting room manager
. 
I simultaneously
banished bridezilla
to parts unknown
with
a regal wave of my hand
.
Patrick
helped by whisking her away.
I wouldn’t have minded leaving myself, but that was not to be, I was with Ben and Ben was with his old friend
. 

The
sun
slipped
behind the hills
, I carefully walked Cassandra around the shadowed patio to the office.
The scream of the siren roared past us and out to the road.
I
exchanged her
wine soaked silk
with
black yoga pants, tee shirt and jacket all emblazoned with the Prophecy Estates logo. The dark navy ensemble did little to alleviate her pallor. I felt I was dressing Winemaker Barbie. 
She tolerated my ministrations in silence, which was just as
well,
I could not think of any small talk
other
than to
compliment her
on the quality of her merchandise.  I had a couple of
SpongeBob
Band-Aids
for the cuts on her bare feet, but she
rejected
my offering in favor of three plain
Band-Aids
.

I
heard
the voices of the
arriving
police
as they
secur
ed
the area and
called complicated
acronyms to
one another, their voices ricocheted between the tanks and cement floors.  Noisy group.

Cassandra
padded barefoot out to the deserted tasting room. She
sank down on a marb
le bench - beautiful, and cold.  She shivered and I fetched a lawn chair from the patio, still warm from the sun
,
and drew it inside for her.
And where was her wonderful Mark?  Where was O’Reilly’s assistant?
Where was O’Reilly? 
Some help they turned out to be.  I wasn’t surprised, but mentally berating
other
people
kept my own hysteria at bay. I liked
Fred
, why was he
under the cases?  There wasn’t anything unusual about them
,
was there?  There I go, I did not want to think that way, it was just an accident.

Cassandra
wrapped her arms under her breasts and rocked back and forth.

“
H
e’s gone
,
” Ben stepped carefully into the tasting room
.
H
is face was drawn. 

I mouthed the name Wind Runner. He shook his head but for once I did not know what that meant.  Did we have two deaths in one awful tremor?

“Fred is from here, he’s as local as me. His family never could get a winery off the ground so to speak.”
Cassandra continued to
sway back and forth
.

“I know.”  Ben
placed a hand on her shoulder to stop
the rocking
.

“He was thrilled to help me with my dream. It was so sweet of him
,
” her
tone was
wistful.
 
Oh sure, now she liked him, the last time I watched them together, she was imperious and he, suspicious.
S
he bit her lip to keep from crying.

Ben shot me a look and I shut
my mouth
.
I was rescued
from further face twitches passing as communication,
by the entrance of
Peter Klaussen O’
R
eilly the
T
hird
.
H
is
footsteps
were
heavy
on the tile
floor;
his face
was
drawn, he
looked
deeply troubled. 

“The police
determined
that it was an accident.”
He gl
anced at Cassandra.
  She nodded but contributed nothing more to the conversation.  “Everyone felt the tremor
,
”
h
e explained.
Cassandra
started to rock again, she moaned softly.