Read Online Plum Gone: A Sonoma Wine Country Cozy Mystery (Sonoma Wine Country Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by A. J. Carton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. J. Carton
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“This will do perfectly. In fact,” she added, “I can’t think of a more beautiful spot.”
It was almost dark by then, and getting cold.
Jack motioned to Emma to return inside. “See, Emma, Frannie could have thrown a party here in her sleep. Sometimes I think Cara really picked this place out for her mother, not me. It’s just too bad she isn’t here to enjoy it, huh?”
Tears welled up in Emma’s eyes. She wanted to give the man a hug – but she knew that wasn’t what he was after. And for some reason, knowing that made her sad.
“You want something to drink while you look around the kitchen?” Jack asked once they were back inside. He had taken off his sports coat, and helped her off with her jacket. “To make sure you have everything you need.”
“Just water,” Emma answered. “Tap water is fine.”
“Please look around,” he called over his shoulder as he reached into a cupboard for a tumbler. “I probably have everything you need, but how would I know?”
He handed her the glass of water, and then opened cabinets one after another. They were all stocked with plain white china – probably enough for twelve. Cups, saucers, plates of all sizes, bowls, mugs and glasses. Lots and lots of glasses.
Emma inventoried it all in her head, thinking through each course, from hors d’oeuvres to dessert, coffee and after dinner drinks, imagining exactly what they would need.
“Have you got table linens?” she asked.
Jack opened a cabinet of short, wide drawers. They were full of linens. Emma pulled out a set of eight paisley placemats and napkins.
“Use these,” she said. “And tell Celina about the party in advance. So she can make sure everything is clean,” she added unnecessarily. The place mats, she noted, still had the price tags on.
Next Emma pulled open the deep, sliding drawers under the kitchen counter looking for serving dishes, pots and pans. Beside the professional Viking range, she found a cupboard filled with All-Clad cookware. Every size and shape imaginable. All brand new.
After spending about twenty minutes looking around, she turned to Jack.
“Honestly, I think you are all set,” she announced. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better equipped kitchen. Except maybe my daughter’s,” she added with a laugh.
“Great. Shall I take you home?” Jack asked.
Emma had turned to put her glass down by the sink when her eyes rested on the only personal clutter to be found in the entire, virtually unused room. It was a random collage of photographs stuck to the oversized stainless steel SubZero fridge. She set down her glass and walked up close to the refrigerator to look at the photographs while Jack went to get her coat.
One picture, Emma guessed, was obviously of Frannie, the multi-talented and beloved saint/wife. From the photograph, which appeared to have been taken when Jack’s wife was in her fifties, she looked to have been a pretty brunette. Perhaps a little overweight, Emma noted. In the photograph, taken somewhere at a beach, she wore black slacks and a black cotton T-shirt that covered her hips, much like the uniform the Walkie-Talkies wore.
There were also photographs of two boys at various ages. These must be the grandkids, Emma surmised, recognizing them from photos Jack had shown her on his cell phone. And there was a wedding photo of Cara with a stiff, serious young man who she assumed must be the radiologist, Mike Perkins.
One photograph in particular, however, caught Emma’s eye. It was of a little boy – obviously one of the grandchildren, Mikey or Josh. Emma guessed that in the photograph he must have been around three. He was an exceptionally bright-eyed little imp, laughing, full face into the camera. What struck Emma most of all, however, was that he was the spitting image of Jack.
When Jack handed Emma her jacket, she pointed to the photograph.
“Which one of the grandsons is that, Jack?” she asked. “He looks exactly like
It was almost dark by then, and getting cold.
Jack motioned to Emma to return inside. “See, Emma, Frannie could have thrown a party here in her sleep. Sometimes I think Cara really picked this place out for her mother, not me. It’s just too bad she isn’t here to enjoy it, huh?”
Tears welled up in Emma’s eyes. She wanted to give the man a hug – but she knew that wasn’t what he was after. And for some reason, knowing that made her sad.
“You want something to drink while you look around the kitchen?” Jack asked once they were back inside. He had taken off his sports coat, and helped her off with her jacket. “To make sure you have everything you need.”
“Just water,” Emma answered. “Tap water is fine.”
“Please look around,” he called over his shoulder as he reached into a cupboard for a tumbler. “I probably have everything you need, but how would I know?”
He handed her the glass of water, and then opened cabinets one after another. They were all stocked with plain white china – probably enough for twelve. Cups, saucers, plates of all sizes, bowls, mugs and glasses. Lots and lots of glasses.
Emma inventoried it all in her head, thinking through each course, from hors d’oeuvres to dessert, coffee and after dinner drinks, imagining exactly what they would need.
“Have you got table linens?” she asked.
Jack opened a cabinet of short, wide drawers. They were full of linens. Emma pulled out a set of eight paisley placemats and napkins.
“Use these,” she said. “And tell Celina about the party in advance. So she can make sure everything is clean,” she added unnecessarily. The place mats, she noted, still had the price tags on.
Next Emma pulled open the deep, sliding drawers under the kitchen counter looking for serving dishes, pots and pans. Beside the professional Viking range, she found a cupboard filled with All-Clad cookware. Every size and shape imaginable. All brand new.
After spending about twenty minutes looking around, she turned to Jack.
“Honestly, I think you are all set,” she announced. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better equipped kitchen. Except maybe my daughter’s,” she added with a laugh.
“Great. Shall I take you home?” Jack asked.
Emma had turned to put her glass down by the sink when her eyes rested on the only personal clutter to be found in the entire, virtually unused room. It was a random collage of photographs stuck to the oversized stainless steel SubZero fridge. She set down her glass and walked up close to the refrigerator to look at the photographs while Jack went to get her coat.
One picture, Emma guessed, was obviously of Frannie, the multi-talented and beloved saint/wife. From the photograph, which appeared to have been taken when Jack’s wife was in her fifties, she looked to have been a pretty brunette. Perhaps a little overweight, Emma noted. In the photograph, taken somewhere at a beach, she wore black slacks and a black cotton T-shirt that covered her hips, much like the uniform the Walkie-Talkies wore.
There were also photographs of two boys at various ages. These must be the grandkids, Emma surmised, recognizing them from photos Jack had shown her on his cell phone. And there was a wedding photo of Cara with a stiff, serious young man who she assumed must be the radiologist, Mike Perkins.
One photograph in particular, however, caught Emma’s eye. It was of a little boy – obviously one of the grandchildren, Mikey or Josh. Emma guessed that in the photograph he must have been around three. He was an exceptionally bright-eyed little imp, laughing, full face into the camera. What struck Emma most of all, however, was that he was the spitting image of Jack.
When Jack handed Emma her jacket, she pointed to the photograph.
“Which one of the grandsons is that, Jack?” she asked. “He looks exactly like
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